Speech concerning Civil Rights Movement overview, no date [2008?]

5 16 in the Magic City work.

From these uncelebrated authors, in a few words, in sacrifice and suffering penned in cramped shorthand, the episodes they choose to record recall their Birmingham movement.

Empress Akweke-King, now of Brooklyn wrote: "dog attacked!"

Rev. B. W. Henderson of Avenue O reports: "house bombed on Sugar Hill."

Ruth Barefield-Pendelton of 2nd Street West "marched Selma to Montogmery."

Doris Brewster of Riverchase Parkway simply wrote: "hosed."

Rodrick Hilson "brought kids from Bessemer to Birmingham."

In Arthur Lee Smith's account he "acted as liaison between jail and headquarters (church)."

Willie James Coleman boasts he was "first to go to jail for park." Sandra Johnson's brief narrative says simply: "left school."

Glenda Bailey of Adamsville remebers "heard blast of church from the Fountain Heights Methodist Church."

Thirteen-year-old Virgil Ware could not sign in; he was killed on the afternoon of September 15, 1963, in the angry aftermath of the dynamite blast Glenda Bailey heard from her church pew. Riding on the handlebars of his brother's bicycle, he was shot by a 15-year-old white boy riding on the back of a motor scooter. Someone signing in for Virgil Ware wrote: "Deceased. KKK killed him same day 16th Street Baptist was bombed."

Flora smith of Bessemer was "chaplain in jail." Annie Mason

6 17 describes herself: "Miles College student; sat-in at 5 & 10."

Like so many others, Bertha Wilson was simply "supporter."

Not all who made the movement were black. Melva Jimerson, now of Washington, DC., was "part of Alabama Council on Human Relations." Randall Jimerson, now of East Hampton, Connecticut, "spoke out on civil rights issues with white students in Homewood."

Many are modest. From Stafford, Vermont, Reverend William Sloane Coffin then the Chaplain of Yale, described himself simply as "Freedom Rider."

Will Eatman of Birmingham remembered: "I was water down on 5th Avenue 17th Street."

Mrs. Odessa Robinson "marched - Selma to Montgomery." Johnnie M. Smith of Birmingham "integrated churches."

Elijah Hill Jr. of Birmingham wrote: "Yes. Marched." From Alabamas capitol, Barbara Howard wrote "integrated/sit-in/movie in Montgomery."

Theophus C. Pogue of Anniston had seen the Freedom Riders attacked. He inscribed "Bus bombing Anniston 1961 May 14 witnessed."

Vonelle, Grady and Jesse Wilson jointly declared they "spent 15 days in jail."

Gloria Washington "spent two days in jail, city juvenile, county fairgrounds."

Bernard Johnson''s movement experiences are summarized in four words. "Got hosed and dogs."

B. G. Evans writes "I was there bombing of church."

7 18 Some served in other ways. Mrs. Rosie L. Craig was "usher in the mass meetings." William Upshaw, now of Laurel, Maryland described himself as "musician for mass movement." Annye H. Braxton of Demopolis was proud to state: "First black Marengo County to run for office."

Luther McKinstry proudly reports "case won against U. S. Steel.

Bernice Levert reported an indignity. Someone, she wrote, "slam door in face at courthouse."

Rev. Clyde Johnco "sued city for black policeman." Martee McPherson "worked with Justice Department at Gaston Motel."

Janet F. Horne of Cordele, Georgia, remembers a brush with celebrity. "At 10 years of age member of SCLC sat at feet of Dr. Benjamin Mays."

So do Frank Johnson. He remembers being "jailed with Dick Gregory."

Jesse Champion Sr. "lost job with Birmingham schools." Jean Moores Steward of Birmingham simply "didn't shop."

For some, experiences not immediately connected with the marches and protests were important Jimmie L. Terry's melancholy note reads "Son killed in Vietnam. First black buried in Elwood Cemetery."

Of 467 signers through November 16, 1992. 69% had marched; 22% had been arrested.

In 25 pages, each of more than one thousand lies defines a small space; each space is filled with proud self-identification

8 19 of contributions made to breaching Alabama's rigid racial walls, of days in jail, of marches and mass meetings and explosions heard, of offices sought, of sons killed in war, of ushers and musicians and food servers.

Steven Norris on the 26th page is then the first to mention the man most Americans associated with Birmingham than and give sole credit for the Birmingham movement today.

Norris writes "In jail with Martin Luther King."

"In jail with Martin Luther King!"

Here Steven Norris lists what must have been for him the significant summary of his involvement in the Birmingham campaign. He fellow authors have summed up their magic moments in other ways. They are the primary actors, only occasionally are they the acted-upon. It is they who "march(ed)" or "brought kids" or were "water(ed) down;" they were attacked by dogs or hosed by fireman or simply "spoke out" when speaking out was dangerous.

These first 25 pages - and the others which follow - filled with humble self-description and identification of movement makers from Birmingham and Alabama thirty 40 years ago - provide an excellent opportunity to examine the movement anew "from the bottom up", or in a more felicitous phrase, from the heart of the movement's mass.

That is part of what I, the slave's grandson

Today, that slave's grandson teaches at the the university founded by slave-owner Thomas Jefferson in Virgina, teaching young Americans about the modern-day struggle for human liberty.

That struggle has its roots in Jefferson's words more than his deeds, and its parallel's in my grandfather's membership in a transcendent generation - that body of black women and men born in the 19^th Century in servitude, freed from slavery by the Civil War, determined to make their way as free women and men.

My students are modern young men and women, filled with all the cynicism and despair of their age.