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shymilfromchi

Dr. King's Terrifying Day in Chicago

shymilfromchi
12 years ago

Dr. King's birthday on January 15th, brought this day back into my memory.

It was a hot, humid day in August. I knew that Martin Luther King was in the city, but I had two small children who needed a lot of attention, and wasn't following the news much. We had been invited to a wedding later that afternoon and had forgotten to pick up a card. So Steve stayed with the babies while I walked to the card shop, about four blocks north of our home.

As I started back, I noticed quite a few small groups of people, mostly teenage boys and young men, walking quickly, very animated, laughing and talking loudly. That was unusual and puzzling. As I got closer to home, I could hear an ungodly roar, a noise different from anything I had ever heard before, coming from Marquette Park, a beautiful large park about a half mile south of our home. I finally realized what was happening to cause that unbelievable sound; Dr. King was leading a march to protest segregated housing and a very large crowd had gathered to confront him. As I hurried home, the sound of the mob seemed to grow ever louder, as if it where feeding upon itself.

I had not been raised here, but came to know that racism was rampant in this working class neighborhood. My brothers and I had been brought up to respect all races and religions, so this was a surprise to me when we moved here. Now, even after closing the door of our home behind me, and with all the windows closed, the noise level was so loud that it penetrated our home as if we were right there in the chaos going on in the park. I was glad that our children were so young that they couldn't question that howling sound.

I felt such frustration. I wanted to go and walk with Dr. King and show that not everyone in the neighborhood could tolerate that behavior. Steve gently blocked my path and said that it was too dangerous and he didn't want to raise our childrem by himself. I knew that he was right and family had to come first, but it was so hard to hear that sound and see on the television what was going on. The crowd was jeering, taunting, threatening, their faces contorted by excitement and hatred. Dr. King was hit on the head by a large rock, dazed and almost knocked down. Many of his followers were injured by bottles and rocks, including a Roman Catholic nun. Firecrackers going off added to the badlam. There was even a knife thrown which hit the neck of a white marcher. Some policmen were injured while trying to keep the crowd under control. It seemed to go on forever. Estimates vary as to the numbers of people with Dr. King from 350 to 700 people; there were many thousands in the mob.

It was terrible, that long-ago day. Everyday, we see in the media the cruel things that people do to each other, but it was so frightening to be an actual observer of what human beings are capable of doing. Mob violence is so powerful and unthinking; its a good thing that our present "occupy" movement is attempting to stay peaceful. I wonder if the drastic changes in our country have changed the outlook of any of the hostile people who were in the park on that day in 1966.

Dr. King was quoted as saying, that this was worse than anything that he had experienced in the south.

Nowadays, African-American folks, who might have had a cross burned in front of their house in those days, (it actually happened not too far from here) are living peacefully among us, thanks in part to Dr. King's bravery in Marquette Park that day.

Comments (8)

  • shilty
    12 years ago
    last modified: 9 years ago

    Thank you for posting your personal experience in this matter.

    I remember that in my lifetime we went from white and colored bathrooms and water fountains and bus seats and drug store counters and schools to integration.

    We have lived history.

    But mostly I'm proud that we've come as far as we have.

    Just as an aside, my dear sainted mother was raised in the deep southern influence, but refused to do or say anything against blacks; her dearest brother was killed by the Germans in France, but her worst feeling toward any of the WWII countries is against the Japanese. You see, Germany had the men and the material to beat the US, Japan did not, but we were able to transfer all our feelings against the attacks and the losses of our own against the Japanese because they were certainly different than the Germans, many of which looked like most Americans.

    In the beautiful words of South Pacific..."you've got to be taught..."

  • west_gardener
    12 years ago
    last modified: 9 years ago

    "you've got to be taught..." I totally agree with that sentiment. I was never taught to discriminate against black people, and not a single black person has done anything to me personally.

    On the other hand, the Nazies looked just like me, blonde and blue eyed, I judge people on their actions, not their looks.

  • shilty
    12 years ago
    last modified: 9 years ago

    Good for you, West... that's the way we should all be.

    judging people on their looks reminds me of another bit of history we all lived through. I began life, it seems, in little white gloves for any special occasion, hats and gloves for church, you never got caught without nylons, never went anywhere in rollers, I forget the rest, but there were a set of rules you just didn't bend.

    Somehow the 60's managed to abide young men growing long hair, and women refusing to wear certain bits of under garments, and we all said it was because how we looked and dressing for success was too Establishment, and had nothing to do with how we performed our jobs, yadda yadda... I can remember having to get permission to wear slacks to work in an office.

    Well, blink your eyes and its the uncomfortable 2012's, and does a sweet young thing with studs and punctures in nose, lips, cheeks, eyebrows lean over my table while I order a dinner that costs more than $5 you can bet I call the manager over and tell them I don't want to even THINK about food looking at it.

    There's a lesson in there for me somewhere.

  • rob333 (zone 7b)
    12 years ago
    last modified: 9 years ago

    You lived it closer than many people. A part of you sounds like you regret not marching. Oh but you did. In your heart of hearts and in your mind. Your children and husband came first and that is even more selfless and took strength to do. Yes, Dr. King revealed the hate, but only showed courage and love. That's how it is done. It is just heart sickening what they're doing to OWS protestors all over the US. Violently kicking a girl so that she miscarries her child, smashing their faces into the ground although they're getting up and have their hands behind their back...

    I lived the riots spawned after Rodney King (Atlanta for me). I remember Coretta Scott King indelibly. Met her in person. Never known someone with a hole so deep and yet, she was full of something I couldn't quite put my finger on as a child. An amazing countenance, and personal demeanor; she affected the rest of my life. What a graceFULL woman. I want(ed) to be like her. She was the hero of my childhood (born in 1967, met her in 1972).

  • shymilfromchi
    Original Author
    12 years ago
    last modified: 9 years ago

    Since those long-ago days, our neighborhood has changed so much. The children have grown up and left to start their own families. Now their children go to school with kids of all races.

    As the former neighbors left, many of their homes were bought by people from Mexico and Central America. I know that there's so much controversy about illegal immigration, and perhaps some of our new neighbors are illegal, but all I know is that they are the best neighbors that we ever had. Many of them have fled the violence and grinding poverty in their homeland and appreciate their new lives. The elderly homes are getting facelifts. The roofers have been very busy and the sounds of sawing and hammering are heard coming from inside houses as we walk past them. There is homemade landscaping and flowers abound all summer. Loved stautettes and expensive urns are sometimes left out on front porches and are not stolen, as they might have been in the past.

    The parents are striving to learn English. The children are becoming assimilated in their schools and Americanization is slowly breaking out all over the place. The families are careful about their children; they've seen what gangs are capable of doing and keep the children as close to home as possible.

    These people are thoughtful about others. When we had five yards of mulch delivered to the foot of our driveway last summer and it needed to be moved to the back yard, suddenly wheelbarrows and shovels appeared and offers of help came from all around us. If we are winter slug-abeds, when it has snowed overnight, we find that our neighors have shoveled for us.

    Of course, all personalities and past experiences are represented in any population and we are not immune to the problems of urban life. Some folks play their music too loud. Some have a party to celebrate anything. Some honk their horns at six in the morning. Some bring their rural lack of skills to try to "do-it-yourself", oops! that old tree you are taking down, just brought down a telephone wire.

    The city seems to want to "write off" neighborhoods where an underclass lives, but who is the underclass. The family behind us, the man teaches in the city college system, the wife was an architect in Mexico, their son is attending our most esteemed state university and is studying international finance. The twins, (whose parents came from Jordon) down the block grew up become a mathematian and a nuclear physicist, their sister a pharmacist. The nurse across the street is getting her PhD, can we call her Dr. Nurse? The teenaged children next door are in gifted classes. Alex has started his own business and is thriving.

    Our country still has much to overcome. Among many things, we need more and better education, and to learn to respect each other. But our new neighbors see the America, with all its faults and opportunitities, that our ancestors did when they immigrated here.

  • west_gardener
    12 years ago
    last modified: 9 years ago

    I'm an immigration success story and it came about with hard work. I worked full time, part time and overtime when I could get it. I was fortunate that the work was available. I never asked for a dime from the us government.

  • anneliese_32
    12 years ago
    last modified: 9 years ago

    When I was an exchange student in the Northeast segregation was not much of an issue in the area. Later I worked in a Civilian Personnel Office on an Army post in Germany and since the Army had been integrated for years it did not register either nor when I married and moved to the US and lived on post again in NYC and the families in our highrise were a virtual United Nations with every race and lots of nationalities.

    Next move was to Ft. Eustis, VA and I went once in a while off post to Newport News to go shopping or to take the kids to the dentist. My two loved to ride in the back of the bus since it bounced quit often. That apparently was a no-no. I got dirty looks and snide remarks, even though segregation on the busses was over. Mixed race couples in the Army were either not assigned to VA, MD and DC or if it had to be, they needed post housing and were advised to not go off-post together. Going out with another couple if they were black was a gamble too, even if in uniform we got bad vibes on post it was no problem.
    Where we live now it is an extension of an Army Post and we like it. Most of the people are either retired Army and decendends.

  • shilty
    12 years ago
    last modified: 9 years ago

    You know, we graduate only 50% of all high school students. Most of that is the inner cities schools, many minorities, yes, but they're OUR minorities, they are OUR social security revenue, they are OUR prison residents or OUR poor, or OUR welfare need, and OUR soldier in the struggle to keep good jobs in America, and if we get them before they're defeated, they are OUR model citizens.

    You can bet your bottom dollar the most competitive countries do not graduate only 50% of their kids in high school.

    And so I've been thinking, what if every graduate of every high school, everyone with a job anywhere saved enough aluminum cans, took their leftovers home for lunch the next day, or used enough coupons with their own shopping to save
    $1 a week and send it to their alumn. Earmark it for scholarships and after school programs and tutoring in feeder elementary schools to make sure those kids make it all the way through.

    All over the US we have schools with community partners, and programs that keep kids too busy, off the streets, out of harms way.

    We could do this, no grants, no tax dollars, no monitoring, investigating, enforcement... just let the schools work with parent-teacher, boosters, alumni groups to get the job done.

    What if?

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