by Troy Jackson
King went on to highlight specific issues that faced the community. Regarding the dearth of recreation facilities for African Americans, the MIA had chosen to go to court to seek equity and access to all parks. In response, the City of Montgomery elected to close down all city parks, a policy that remained in effect for several years. He also noted that the county school board had failed to respond to a three-month-old letter asking that a plan for integration be spelled out for the citizens of the county. As the school year began, the MIA executive committee wrote a letter to the Montgomery County Board of Education noting that over five years had “elapsed and no discernable move has been made toward integrating the schools of Montgomery.” The letter was not intended as “a threat nor an ultimatum” but as a call for the board “to begin in good faith to study the idea, and then provide a reasonable start.” Given that the letter received no response, King announced, “we have no alternative but to carry this issue into the federal courts.”52
Near the end of his speech, King called those present to remember that “the freedom struggle in Montgomery was not started by one man, and it will not end when one man leaves.” He encouraged them to unite behind the new president of the organization as “new divisive forces are at work in our community. In the mad quest to conquer us by dividing us they are working through some Negroes who will sell their race for a few dollars and a few cents.” King concluded by noting his own personal faith as they faced the days ahead: “I have no doubt that the midnight of injustice will give way to the daybreak of freedom. My faith in the future does not grow out of a weak and uncertain thought. My faith grows out of a deep and patient trust in God who leaves us not alone in the struggle for righteousness, and whose matchless power is a fit contrast to the sordid weakness of man.”53
King rightly noted the central role the MIA now played in Montgomery. Before the boycott began, however, both Nixon and the WPC had served as a clearinghouse for many in Montgomery’s African American community. The WPC president, Jo Ann Robinson, had enough influence to gain an audience with the mayor and city commissioners. When working people faced legal troubles, they had turned to Nixon. As people looked to the MIA after the boycott, the roles for both Nixon and the WPC became less clear. Following his resignation from the MIA, Nixon turned his attention back to union work through his membership in the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters. By contrast, the MIA had become Robinson’s primary outlet for community engagement. Other WPC members also faced persecution from local authorities. WPC member Thelma Glass remembered the slow demise of her organization after the boycott: “the city began to retaliate. We began to lose members, they got threats—if they stayed in the council, [they’d lose] their teaching jobs—people had children to feed and all that, and you know, about the situation. So gradually, membership just dropped and dropped until on campus I remember there were just four of us left, Jo Ann Robinson, and J. E. Pierce and Mary Frances Burkes and myself.” In the years following the boycott, the power of the MIA rendered many other African American community organizations and leaders ineffective and inconsequential.54
King’s decision to leave Montgomery was not only a response to the needs of the SCLC. According to many who were in the city at the time, some in the congregation were ready for a new pastor who would prove less controversial and would be more available to attend to the day-to-day pastoral responsibilities. King family friend Mrs. O. B. Underwood later remembered “rumors all over Montgomery that Dexter did not want Rev. King, and they wanted to get rid of him.” Underwood also reflected on the division between some of the younger members at Dexter and those with longer tenures in the congregation. College students and other young adults felt like they were excluded from “the workings and operations of Dexter.” Underwood believed part of the problem was “that many people might have felt threatened by him.” Dexter member Warren Brown also credited internal tensions within Dexter as a motivation for King’s decision to leave Montgomery. Brown emphasized the pressure applied to many professionals who attended Dexter due to their association with King and thus the local civil rights efforts: “Some of the church members complained that the pastor was hurting their cause. Working persons were being threatened by their employers. The old comfort zones were being disturbed.” According to Brown, King challenged those who sought to avoid involvement: “Reverend King stood in the pulpit and said one Sunday: ‘Those who are working and have jobs might not lift a finger or say a word in support of or in defense of the movement, but they think no more of you than they do of those who are protesting. In fact, they (meaning the local white establishment) do not think as much of you as they do those who are protesting. When it is over, whatever the outcome, you will benefit just as much as anyone else, even those who will lose their lives.’” Although King could issue such bold challenges, his words to Deacon Robert Nesbitt Sr. when he informed him of the decision support Brown’s contention: “The explanation was not long in coming: ‘Pressure is being put on the teachers and professional people in the congregation. They are having to take abuses that they could avoid, if I were out of the picture.’”55
Local barber and Dexter member Nelson Malden also believed the pressure from many professionals at Dexter was a major influence on King’s decision to leave the city: “in carrying out his mission, Reverend King was interfering with the bread and butter of some of the folk in the church. I sensed he wanted to remain in Montgomery.” Dexter member Claressa W. Chambliss came to a similar conclusion, noting that she “began to notice a change in my pastor. Many of his followers and supporters were withdrawing. I could tell from his sermons he was a little disgusted and hurt. He was being so brave and his followers were getting weak. People started coming forward as if they wanted to be a leader. There was a definite turn in Reverend King’s disposition. One could hear it in his sermons and speeches.” Dexter deacon Richard Jordan concurred: “Some of the leaders of the movement and open supporters began to withdraw from Reverend King. His Montgomery power base was beginning to weaken. People were not distancing themselves from him because they really wanted to withdraw. Pressure from certain corners forced them to put some distance between themselves and Reverend King.” While in part King was pulled toward Atlanta by a chorus of voices urging him to take a much more active role in guiding the SCLC, the timing of the decision was affected greatly by the push from a portion of his Dexter congregation who longed for a more attentive and less controversial pastor to lead them.56
On Sunday January 31, 1960, King preached his last sermon as the pastor of Dexter Avenue Baptist Church. Reflecting on his six years in Montgomery, King gave a sermon titled “Lessons from History.” He emphasized a theme he had first sounded even before the boycott began: that throughout history God has triumphed over evil. King also took the opportunity to critique militarism, calling it “suicidal” and the “twin of imperialism.” In a closing charge to his congregation, he reminded them that “a great creative idea cannot be stopped” and that “the quest for human freedom and dignity” was coming to fruition around the globe.57
Later that evening, Dexter offered a special program to honor the King family. In his remarks, King affirmed the leadership of Ralph Abernathy, who succeeded him as president: “I believe that under his leadership, Montgomery will grow to higher heights, and new creative things will be done. I hope that you will be able to find a pastor to this church who will join him and the movement in this city and will carry you on to higher heights and do many of the things that I wanted to do and that I couldn’t do.” He also took a few moments to reflect on how he had grown since arriving in the city nearly six years earlier:
And I know this God enough to know that He’s with us. I’ve come to believe in prayer stronger, stronger than ever before, since I’ve been in Montgomery. And I’m convinced that when we engage in prayer, we are not engaging in just the process of autosuggestion, just an endless soliloquy or a monologue, but we are engaged in a dialogue. And we are talking with a fath
er who is concerned about us. And I’ve come to believe that. Maybe this is rationalization. Maybe I have believed more in a personal God over these last few years because I needed Him. But I have felt His power working in my life in so many instances, and I have felt an inner sense of calmness in dark and difficult situations, an inner strength I never knew I had.
Among the many contributions Montgomery made to the life and ministry of King was as the location where his faith became personal and sustaining. 58
The following evening, the MIA held a banquet to honor the Kings. In his address to an organization he had led since its inception, he downplayed the role he had played: “although you’ve been kind enough to say nice things about me, Martin Luther King didn’t bring about the hour. Martin Luther King happened to be on the scene when the hour came. And you see my friends, when the hour comes you are just projected into a symbolic structure. And even if Martin Luther King had not come to Montgomery, the hour was here.” He added that when the boycott began there was already “a preexisting unity here that caused you to substitute tired feet for tired souls and walk the streets of Montgomery until segregation had to fall before the great and courageous witness of a marvelous people.”59
When King first announced his plans to relocate to Atlanta to devote more time to the SCLC, the organization issued a press release to communicate the rationale for the decision that included some poignant musings from a Dexter member: “Rev. King will not truly be leaving us because part of him always will remain in Montgomery, and at the same time, part of us will go with him. We’ll always be together, everywhere. The history books may write it Rev. King was born in Atlanta, and then came to Montgomery, but we feel that he was born in Montgomery in the struggle here, and now he is moving to Atlanta for bigger responsibilities.” It would be hard to find better words to describe the fundamental impact King’s six years in Montgomery had upon his life and preaching.60
King came to Montgomery well prepared to both pastor an African American Baptist church and to play a supporting role in the growing struggle for civil rights. In many ways, King left Montgomery the same as when he arrived six years earlier. His theology and commitments had changed very little. He continued to be suspicious of the excesses of capitalism, to call for greater international cooperation and an end to colonialism, and to hope for an end to segregation and racism through the establishment of a redeemed and beloved community in America. In other ways, however, King was a transformed person. Evil was no longer a theory, but something he and his fellow activists faced day in and day out. Its passing was not inevitable, but would require tireless struggle and sacrifice. He knew full well the resolve of those in power to maintain the status quo. And King was prepared to suffer and even die to resist this evil. This was possible because his faith had moved from an intellectual theory to a heartfelt belief. No longer was King’s call to ministry only understood as a way to contribute to society. Now ministry was about leading a community to trust in the power and justice and righteousness of God even when evil seemed to triumph.
Through the crucible of a local struggle for justice, King’s oratorical skills shined brightly. After learning how his words could stir a congregation, he set his sights on stirring a nation to fulfill its promises of justice and equality. King also grew in his capacity for connecting with professionals and the working class, black and white. His sermons and speeches demonstrate his effectiveness in speaking the language of people from all walks of life. As he assumed local leadership, King began to adjust to being the symbol of the movement. He and his family became targets. Exploding dynamite and the steely blade of a knife reminded King that being a symbol had its price. Despite threats and even violence, King maintained hope in the prevailing power of God when it is unleashed through the love-infused strategy of nonviolence.
After the boycott, King found it easier to turn his attention to regional and national struggles, as he pulled away from the local battle. Although he would be involved in many local campaigns over the remaining eight years of his life, never again would he play such a pivotal role from start to finish. King was more than just a symbol in Montgomery; he was a part of the movement and critical to its success. He learned a great deal from the city about God, about leadership, and about sacrifice. During a mass meeting shortly after the bombing of King’s home, Dr. Moses Jones told the crowd that the city had waited too long to kill Martin Luther King Jr., claiming that King “is in all of us now.” The people of Montgomery were also in King, and he would be a different man the rest of his days. Although King’s civil rights leadership may have been conceived in Atlanta, Georgia, in Montgomery he was becoming King.61
Epilogue
On February 1, 1960, hours before King delivered his final address as president of the Montgomery Improvement Association, four young African American college students staged a sit-in at a Woolworth’s lunch counter in Greensboro, North Carolina. Over the following weeks, hundreds of college students staged similar protests in cities throughout the South, including Montgomery. Alabama State University (ASU) students began their protest on February 25 by requesting service at the cafeteria of the Montgomery County Courthouse. Although no arrests were made, Alabama governor John Patterson demanded that ASU president H. Councill Trenholm expel the students who participated in this direct action or risk losing state funding for his institution. In early March, Trenholm wrote letters to several students informing them that the State Board of Education had directed him to expel them from the school, citing their participation in “conduct prejudicial to the school and for conduct unbecoming a student or future teacher in schools of Alabama, for insubordination and insurrection, or for inciting other pupils to like conduct.”1
Immediately after the expulsions of their fellow classmates, several Alabama State students gathered to protest the expulsions at Dexter Avenue Baptist Church and then proceeded to march to the nearby Capitol building. In response, the Montgomery police deputized dozens of white citizens in response to the sit-ins, and used many of these new deputies to cordon off the Capitol building and prevent the protestors from reaching their destination. Virginia Durr commented regarding the response to the sit-ins and demonstrations: “You never saw such unanimity in your life as there seems to be in the white community, although privately some dissent, but not many.” Meanwhile, the campus of Alabama State was divided over the issue, with some professors supporting the protestors, while others worked to preserve their jobs. Still, for the first time since the end of the bus boycott over three years earlier, students from Alabama State took the lead in a sustained protest that lasted several weeks. The leadership for this new protest came not from the MIA or other established local civil rights organizations, but from young college students, who were part of a much larger movement that would soon organize as the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC).2
Young college students were willing to risk a great deal in an effort to break down segregation in their city. The timing of their sit-ins was undoubtedly influenced by events in Greensboro and Nashville and throughout the South. The fact that these Alabama State students sat down at segregated lunch counters, risking arrest and abuse, was also a part of the legacy of their community. Many of their professors had been at the forefront of the boycott just a few years earlier. Several of these students had been on campus or in the broader community during the epic year of the bus protest. They were ready for this moment, in part because of the brave men and women who had stepped forward four years earlier. Despite white backlash and the floundering of local civil rights organizations over the previous three years, there were still young men and women ready to act in Montgomery to bring about substantive change and greater justice.
The State of Alabama seized on the sit-ins and protests by students to finally go after some of the more active faculty members at Alabama State whom they suspected had been a part of the boycott years earlier. Even before the sit-ins had begun, the state had sent representatives from the
state’s department of education into the classrooms of Alabama State professors they believed had been involved in the local movement, taking notes throughout class in an attempt to intimidate the instructors. Recognizing her teaching job was in jeopardy, Mary Fair Burks wrote a letter to her former pastor expressing her concerns. Claiming “Jo Ann [Robinson], [Lawrence] Reddick and I expect to be fired,” her biggest surprise was that they had not yet lost their jobs. King was disappointed in the ASU president: “I had hoped that Dr. Trenholm would emerge from this total situation as a national hero. If he would only stand up to the Governor and the Board of Education and say that he cannot in all good conscience fire the eleven faculty members who have committed no crime or act of sedition, he would gain support over the nation that he never dreamed of. And indeed jobs would be offered to him overnight if he were fired.” King tried to reassure Burks, claiming he would “do all that I possibly can to assist you and your colleagues in getting work for the Fall.” After the spring term, Burks, Reddick, and Robinson were among seventeen professors who either resigned under pressure or were dismissed from ASU.3