Sunday, December 23, 2018

Civil Rights Events
Freedom Rides
Trailways Bus to Birmingham
 
James Farmer grew up in Marshall, Texas, where his father, James L. Farmer, Sr. was a professor at the historically black Wiley College. Farmer devoted his career to civil rights and social justice causes, working for the NAACP and the Fellowship of Reconciliation (FOR), CORE's parent organization, prior to his February 1961 election as director of CORE. 
 
In early 1961 CORE was less well known than the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), Dr. Martin Luther King's Southern Christian Leadership Coalition (SCLC) or the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC). Farmer envisioned the ride as a way to vault CORE and its philosophy of nonviolent direct action to prominence on the national stage, with attendant opportunities for policy-making and fundraising.
 
Returning to Washington, D.C. from Atlanta, GA on the morning of May 14 to attend his father's funeral, Farmer was haunted by guilt.  Later, he would relate his emotions.  "There was, of course, the incomparable sorrow and pain," he said. "But frankly, there was also a sense of reprieve, for which I hated myself. Like everyone else, I was afraid of what lay in store for us in Alabama, and now that I was to be spared participation in it, I was relieved, which embarrassed me to tears" (Meet) 5).
 
The man who replaced Farmer in Atlanta was James Peck, the only activist among the Freedom Riders to have participated in the 1947 Journey of Reconciliation.  Born into the family of a wealthy clothing wholesaler in 1914, Peck was a social outsider at Choate, an elite Connecticut prep school, in part because his family had only recently converted from Judaism to Episcopalianism. At Harvard he quickly gained a reputation as a campus radical, shocking his classmates by bringing a black date to the freshman dance. Peck dropped out after the end of his freshman year, spending several years as an expatriate in Europe and working as a merchant seaman. Returning to the United States in 1940, Peck devoted himself to organizing work and journalism on behalf of pacifist and social justice causes. He spent almost three years in federal prison during World War II as a conscientious objector.
 
 After his release from prison in 1945, he rededicated himself to pacifism and militant trade unionism. In the late 1940s, Peck became increasingly involved in issues of racial justice, joining the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE) as a volunteer (Meet 7).
 
Waiting in line at the Trailways bus station in Atlanta to purchase their tickets, Peck and the other Riders noticed that several of the regular passengers that had also been standing in the line left after they had been spoken to by a group of white men. Afterward, these rough-looking white men – mostly in their twenties and thirties – boarded the bus.  The Riders followed, scattered themselves throughout the seats.  They were Walter and Frances Bergman, white, 61 and 58 respectively; Jim Peck, white, 46; Charles Person, black, 18, student at Morehouse College; Herman Harris, black, 21, student at Morris College; Ivor Moore, black, 19, student at Morris College; and Ike Reynolds, black, 27, a CORE field secretary.  Simeon Booker, Washington bureau chief of Jet Magazine, and Ted Gaffney, Jet Magazine photographer, were seated in the rear of the bus.
 
Soon after the bus had left the Atlanta terminal, the rough-looking white men – Klansmen – began harassing the black Riders.  "You niggers will be taken care of once you get in Alabama," one of the Klansmen threatened.  The comments intensified, once the bus passed into Alabama (Gross/Arsenault 12-13). 
 
“Kids knew something was going to happen to them, in most cases it was not going to be good,” Charles Person would remark 56 years later (Colvin 3).
 
The bus arrived at the Anniston Trailways station approximately an hour after the other Freedom Riders bus had pulled into the Greyhound station.  The waiting room was eerily quiet.  Several whites looked away as the Riders, white and black, approached the lunch counter. They purchased sandwiches, then returned to the bus.  Waiting for the bus to leave, they heard an ambulance siren.  The bus driver, John Olan Patterson, after talking to several Anniston police officers, leaped up the steps. To the occupants of the bus he announced: "We have received word that a bus has been burned to the ground and passengers are being carried to the hospital by the carloads.  A mob is waiting for our bus and will do the same to us unless we get these niggers off the front seats."
 
One of the Riders told Patterson that they were interstate passengers, that they had the right to sit wherever they wanted.  Patterson exited the bus without uttering a word.  One of eight tough, beefy men that had entered the bus behind Patterson answered.  "Niggers get back. You ain't up north. You're in Alabama, and niggers ain't nothing here."  He then lunged toward Person, punched him in the face. A second Klansman then punched Harris, who was sitting next to Person in the front section of the bus. Both non-violent black Riders refused to fight back.  They were dragged into the aisle, struck with fists, and repeatedly kicked.  Peck and Walter Bergman rushed forward from the back of the bus. “Can we talk about this?” Peck said.  One of the Klansmen struck Peck, sent him reeling across two rows of seats.  Bergman was then struck and fell to the floor.  Blood spurted from their faces.  The enraged Klansmen continued their assaults.  A pair of Klansmen lifted Peck's head, others punched him senseless.  Even though Bergman was unconscious, one Klansman kept stomping on his chest (Gross/Arsenault 14).
 
Behind them, Bergman's wife, Frances, 58, heard the sound of human flesh being brutally beaten for the first time in her life. Frances pleaded with the men to stop. She said later, "I had never before experienced the feeling of people all around hating me so... I kept thinking,‘How could these things be happening in 1961?'"
 
A reporter on the scene wrote: "Bergman was battered into semi-consciousness and as he lay in the aisle, one of the whites jumped up and down on his chest.... Peck's face and head bled profusely, making the aisle a slippery, bloody path" (Bergman 1).  
 
The Klansman ignored her plea, called her a "nigger lover."  However, another Klansman, seeing that Bergman was about to be killed, interceded.  "Don't kill him," he said authoritatively (Gross/Arsenault 15).
 
Interviewed by Eyes on the Prize years later, Peck recalled the following:
 
Walter Bergman and I were sitting the back seat so we decided to go up front and intercept, with our bodies.  We got clobbered on the head.  I didn't get it so bad. But Bergman got it so bad that he later had a stroke and has been paralyzed ever since.  As, he has been in a wheelchair ever since.  And so, Walter and I are both suing the F.B.I., Bergman for a million dollars and me for a half a million dollars (Interview 3).
 
Several Klansmen dragged Person and Harris, both semi-conscious, to the back of the bus.  They draped the two black men over the passengers sitting in the backseat.  They did the same with Peck and Bergman.  Content with what they had accomplished, the Klansmen sat in the middle of the bus.  A black woman who was not a Freedom Rider begged to be allowed to exit the bus.  "Shut up, you black bitch," one of Klansmen answered. "Ain't nobody but whites sitting up here. And them nigger lovers . . . can just sit back there with their nigger friends."
 
The bus driver, Patterson, returned with a police officer.  Satisfied with what he saw, the officer addressed the Klansmen.  "Don't worry about no lawsuits. I ain't seen a thing."  He  left the bus.  Knowing that a mob was waiting on the main road to Birmingham, the driver used back roads heading west.  The Klansmen did not object.  The Freedom Riders were puzzled.  They didn’t know that the Klansmen were protecting them for a welcoming party that was gathering in downtown Birmingham (Gross/Arsenault 15-16). 
 
They also did not know that Birmingham Police Chief Eugene “Bull” Conner had agreed to keep his police away from the Trailways station for 15 minutes to give local whites and members of the Klan time to beat up the arriving Freedom Riders.  Connor had reportedly cut a deal with the KKK giving them 15 minutes to “burn, bomb, kill, maim, I don’t give a god-damn what you do” (Doyle 6).
 
During the next two hours the Klansmen continued their intimidation.  One man brandished a pistol, a second man displayed his steel pipe, three others blocked access to the middle and front sections of the bus.  Jet Magazine journalist Simeon Booker recalled that one of the sentries was "a pop-eyed fellow who kept taunting: 'Just tell Bobby [Kennedy] and we'll do him in, too.'"  One of the Klansmen approached Booker ominously.  Booker gave the man a copy of Jet featuring an advance story on CORE's sponsorship of the Freedom Ride.  The article was passed from Klansman to Klansman. "I'd like to choke all of them," one of the thugs said.  Several others reiterated that the Riders were going to get what was coming to them when they reached Birmingham.  Reaching the outskirts of the city, Peck and the other injured Riders had regained consciousness; but since the Klansmen were not allowing any of them to leave their seats or communicate, Peck could not attempt to prepare them for the horror of what most assuredly waited.
 
Peck and the other Trailways Riders had no detailed knowledge of what had happened to the Greyhound Riders in Anniston. They thought they were prepared for the worst, but were not.  They had no knowledge of how far Birmingham's extreme segregationists would go to preserve their way of life.  In Birmingham, collaboration between the Ku Klux Klan and law enforcement officials was absolute. The special agents in the Birmingham FBI field office, and their superiors in Washington, knew what was going to happen.  They could have warned the Freedom Riders but did not.
 
Worse, FBI informant Gary Thomas Rowe actively ensured in Birmingham that the Trailways Riders would be pummeled.  The plan agreed to between Klansmen and law enforcement had been to attack first the occupants of the Greyhound bus when it arrived at the Greyhound station.  News of the Anniston bombing did not reach Birmingham until midafternoon, minutes before the arrival of the Trailways bus.  Apprised by police headquarters, Rowe alerted the Klansmen waiting near the Greyhound station that the second bus of Freedom Riders was about to arrive at the Trailways station, three blocks away.  Years later Rowe recounted the frantic dash across downtown Birmingham: "We made an astounding sight . . . men running and walking down the streets of Birmingham on Sunday afternoon carrying chains, sticks, and clubs. Everything was deserted; no police officers were to be seen except one on a street corner. He stepped off and let us go by, and we barged into the bus station and took it over like an army of occupation. There were Klansmen in the waiting room, in the rest rooms, in the parking area."
 
Police dispatchers had cleared the area.  For the next fifteen minutes there would be no police presence at the Trailways station, except for two plainclothes detectives in the crowd there to monitor what occurred and make sure that the Klansmen left the station before the police was subsequently dispatched (Gross/ Arsenault 16-18).
 
Interviewed by Eyes on the Prize, James Peck recalled: When we arrived in… Birmingham, … we saw along the sidewalk … about… twenty men with pipes.  We saw no cop in sight.  And now I'll tell you what, how I remember the date.  The next day, Bull Connor, the notorious police chief was asked why there were no police on hand.  He said, he replied, it was Mother's Day and they were all visiting their mothers.  Uh, well we got out of the bus and Charles Person, the black student from Atlanta and I, had been designated to try to enter the lunch counter.  So we… of course we didn't [get] there (Interview 5).
 
Why had Charles Person, the eighteen-year-old black Morehouse College student from Georgia, chosen to be there?
 
The Russians had launched Sputnik, demonstrating a technological and scientific supremacy over the United States, and Person, of Atlanta, was ready to answer the call for more American students to become scientists. Accepted to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, he thought he would also apply to nearby Georgia Tech, which was cheaper. But he couldn’t get in there; the university was not integrated. And that’s what galvanized him.
 
“When you do all the things your parents ask you to do, you’re a pretty good student and you’re denied, it’s hard for a child or a teenager to understand,” he said. He joined sit-ins in Atlanta and later was chosen for the rides.
 
“Change always begins with the young. As you get older you can rationalize things and can kind of live with them,” Person said. “But as a child or young person, you don’t have that rationalization, and you just want to see things change” (Colvin 5).
 
When the bus pulled into the Trailways terminal, the Klansmen on board rushed down the aisle to be near the front door.  One man shouted: "You damn Communists, why don't you go back to Russia? You're a shame to the white race!"  They exited down the steps and quickly disappeared into the crowd.  Peck and the other Freedom Riders, peering at the crowd, saw no weapons.  They filed off the bus onto the unloading platform to retrieve their luggage.  Several rough-looking men were standing a few feet away giving no indication of impending violence.  Peck and Person walked toward the white waiting room. In his 1962 memoir, Peck recalled: “I did not want to put Person in a position of being forced to proceed if he thought the situation was too dangerous," but "when I looked at him, he responded by saying simply, 'Let's go.'"  Person knew the Deep South; he had been jailed for sixteen days for participating in the Atlanta sit-ins; hours earlier he had been beaten up.  Despite his and Peck’s past experiences, neither man was sufficiently prepared to anticipate what was about to occur.
 
A Klansmen pointed to the cuts on Peck's face and the caked blood on his shirt and shouted that Person, walking in front of Peck, had attacked a white man.  Peck responded, tried to explain that Person had not attacked him, added: "You'll have to kill me before you hurt him." This blatant breach of racial solidarity only served to incite the crowd of Klansmen blocking their path.  An enraged Klansman pushed Person toward the colored waiting room.  Person recovered, proceeded toward the white lunch counter, was stopped by a second Klansman who shoved him up against a concrete wall.  Another segregationist, National States Rights Party (NSRP) leader Edward Fields pointed at Peck, yelled: "Get that son of a bitch."  Several burly Klansmen pummeled Person with their fists, bloodied his face and mouth, dropped him to his knees.  Peck rushed to help Person to his feet.  Several Klansmen pushed both men into a dimly lit corridor that led to a loading platform.  A dozen whites, armed with pipes or oversized key rings, pounced. Person escaped into the street.  Boarding a city bus, he made his way to Reverend Fred Shuttlesworth's parsonage (Gross/Arsenault 18-19).
 
Person says he knows of only one photograph that survived that melee: “It’s a picture of me. You’ll see a guy in a blazer with a pipe. We figure he’s the one that gave the most damaging blow,” he said. “He’s the only one who had a weapon that could make my skull pop open the way it did.”
 
In late 2016, in the middle of a conversation with a relative, Person suddenly passed out -- Collateral damage, almost 56 years later.  There’s that lingering damage — a CT scan found that there’s still damage to his skull, “which was kind of disturbing to me because I thought that was past me,” he said — but there is also lingering hope. He would like to have a cup of coffee with the person who attacked him in Birmingham. No one was charged.
 
“There’s no resentment,” Person said. He simply wants to know why. “I don’t have time to be hating anyone because I’ve adopted nonviolence as a way of life, not just a tactic” (Colvin  6).
 
Meanwhile, Peck took the worse of the attack.  I was unconscious, I'd say, within a minute. Uh… I woke up, I came to in an alley way.  Nobody was there.  A big pool of blood.  I looked at that pool of blood, I said, I wonder whether I'm going to live or die.  But I was too tired to care.  I lay down again.  Finally I came too again, and I looked and a white G.I. who had come up and said, you look in a bad way.  Do you need help?  And I looked the other way and [Walter] Bergman was coming so I said, no my friend is coming, he'll help me out. So, uh, Bergman took me in a cab to Shuttesworth's home, and when Shuttlesworth saw me, he said, man you need to go to a hospital. And so he called the ambulance and they took me to the hospital and … they took me to the hospital and put fifty-three stitches into my head (Interview 6). 
 
Rev. Fred Shuttlesworth … would later say, “His head was split down to the skull. Somebody had cracked him with a lead pipe. Peck was a bloody mess. . . .” It took more than an hour for Shuttlesworth to find an ambulance willing to take Peck to the all-white Carraway Methodist Hospital. Once there, staff refused to treat him. Only at Jefferson Hillman Hospital did Peck finally receive treatment, including some 53 stitches for his head wounds (Doyle 7).
 
The attacks had been moved to the back corridor to avoid reporters and news photographers stationed at the white waiting room.  However, several newsmen, including national CBS News correspondent Howard K. Smith, witnessed at least part of the attack.  
 
Smith had been working on a television documentary investigating allegations of lawlessness and racial intimidation in the Southern city. Smith, a Southerner himself from Louisiana, was trying to determine if the claims he and his network were hearing about were exaggerated or true. 
 
On the night of May 13, Smith [had] received a phone call tipping him off that the downtown bus station was the place to be the next day “if he wanted to see some real action.” Smith thus witnessed the May 14 “Mother’s Day” riot at the Birmingham Trailways Bus Station, as a vicious mob of Klansmen attacked the Freedom Riders and innocent bystanders alike with pipes and baseball bats. After the riot, Smith helped badly injured Riders Jim Peck and Walter Bergman to hail a cab. He also found three other injured black men after the melee, one of whom was Ike Reynolds. These men had agreed to do on camera interviews which Smith conducted with the men and was hopeful of airing that evening on CBS-TV. But “signal difficulties” from the local TV station – WAPI – prevented that from happening, though Smith suspected that the local owner there had vetoed such a broadcast.
 
Smith did deliver news accounts of the bus station melee over the CBS radio network that went out nationally. He would make a series of live radio updates from his hotel room that day. “The riots have not been spontaneous outbursts of anger,” he reported in one broadcast, “but carefully planned and susceptible to having been easily prevented or stopped had there been a wish to do so.” In another he explained: “One passenger was knocked down at my feet by 12 of the hoodlums, and his face was beaten and kicked until it was a bloody pulp.”[i.e., the Jim Peck beating].  Smith reported the facts of the incident for CBS. “When the bus arrived,” he explained in one report, “the toughs grabbed the passengers into alleys and corridors, pounding them with pipes, with key rings, and with fists,” But he was outraged by what he had witnessed, and stated at one point that the “laws of the land and purposes of the nation badly need a basic restatement.” Smith at the time also did a Sunday radio commentary, during which he was more direct, “The script almost wrote itself,” he would later recall. “I had the strange, disembodied sense of being forced by conscience to write what I knew would be unacceptable.” In his commentary, Smith laid the blame squarely on Police Chief Eugene “Bull” Connor, whose officers had looked the other way during the attack. During that commentary Smith also stated that the “rule of barbarism in Alabama” must bow to the “rule of law and order – and Justice – in America(Doyle 8-9).   
 
The other Riders had sought refuge.  Ivor Moore, 19, and Herman Harris, 21, both of them black, somehow lost themselves in the crowd before the assaults started.  Ordered to by her husband, Frances Bergman boarded a city bus just after their arrival.  Walter, woozy, blood dried on his clothing, followed Peck and Person into the white waiting room. 
 
Having witnessed Peck and Person’s beatings, he turned about hoping to find a policeman.  He, too, was knocked to the floor by a raging Klansman.  Jet Magazine journalist Simeon Booker came upon him crawling on his hands and knees.  Booker withdrew to the street, where he found a black cabdriver who was willing to transport him and photographer Ted Gaffney to safety.
 
Several white men kicked and stomped Ike Reynolds, 27, before dumping his semiconscious body into a curbside trash bin.  
 
The mob also attacked bystanders that it misidentified as Freedom Riders.  A Klansman named L. B. Earle had come out of the men's room at the wrong time.  Earle suffered several deep head gashes and was taken to a hospital. A second victim was twenty-nine-year-old black laborer George Webb, who was attacked when he entered the baggage room with his fiancée, Mary Spicer, who had been on a Trailways bus that had arrived from Atlanta.  Spicer had been unaware of the melee inside the station until she and Webb were set upon by pipe-wielding Klansmen. Undercover FBI informant Gary Thomas Rowe, told Spicer: "Get the hell out of here," whereupon she fled into the street.  Rowe and three others, including an NSRP member, pummeled Webb, who fought back but succumbed after several other thugs surrounded him.  Dozens of bystanders watched, some yelling, "Kill the nigger."  One of the plainclothes detectives on the scene, Red Self, told Rowe: "Get the boys out of here.  I'm ready to give the signal for the police to move in."  When the police did arrive, most of the rioters had left.
 
Several thugs, however, continued their attack on Web.  A news photographer from the Birmingham Post-Herald, Tommy Langston, snapped a picture of Rowe and the other Klansmen.  The attackers, abandoning Webb, chased after Langston.  One man smashed the camera to the ground.  Rowe and others kicked and punched, threatened to beat him with the pipes and baseball bats they had used on Webb.  Meanwhile, Webb ran into the loading area, and was captured by different Klansmen.  With the police arriving Webb and Langston receiving several parting licks.  Bleeding profusely, Webb managed to find the car in which his fiancée and his aunt were waiting.  Langston staggered down the street to the Post-Herald building, and collapsed into the arms of a fellow employee. Later, another Post-Herald photographer returned to the terminal and recovered Langston's broken camera.  The roll of film inside it was undamaged.
 
A grisly picture of the Webb beating appeared on the front page of the Post-Herald the next morning.  It was one of the few pieces of documentary evidence that survived the riot.  By Monday, May 15th, photographs of the burning “Freedom Bus” in Anniston as well as images of the Birmingham mob scene were reprinted in newspapers across the country (Gross/Arsenault 19-22).
 
According to historian Raymond Arsenault, author of the 2006 book, Freedom Riders, “[Howard] Smith’s remarkable broadcast opened the floodgates of public reaction. By early Sunday evening, hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions, of Americans were aware of the violence that had descended upon Alabama only a few hours before.” At that point, few people had heard of CORE, and fewer still knew what the term ‘Freedom Rider’ meant. But with reports like the one Smith made [and newspaper photographs and articles reprinted in local newspapers], more and more of the general population would soon understand what was taking place in the southern part of their country (Doyle 10).
 
 
Works cited:
 
Bergman, Gerald.  “Walter Gerald Bergman's Freedom Ride
and Brutal Government Violence.”  Investigator 143.  March 2012.  Web.  http://ed5015.tripod.com/ReligBergmanFreedomRide143.html
 
Colvin, Rhonda.  As Trump attacks John Lewis, here’s how freedom riders broke the chains of segregation.”  The Washington Post.  January 15, 2017.  Web.  https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/we-were-soldiers-the-flesh-and-blood-behind-the-new-civil-rights-monument/2017/01/15/4d1c9edc-42dc-11e6-88d0-6adee48be8bc_story.html?utm_term=.3a43ab1ea4f6
 
Doyle, Jack.  ““Buses Are A’Comin’- Freedom Riders: 1961.”  PopHistoryDig.com.  June 24, 2014.  Web.  http://www.pophistorydig.com/topics/tag/james-peck-freedom-rider/
 
Gross, Terry.  “Get On the Bus: The Freedom Riders of 1961,” containing excerpts from Raymond Arsenault’s Freedom Riders: 1961 and the Struggle for Racial Justice.  NPR.  Web.  https://www.npr.org/2006/01/12/5149667/get-on-the-bus-the-freedom-riders-of-1961
 
“Interview with James Peck.”  Eyes on the Prize.  Washington University Digital Gateway Texts.  Web.  http://digital.wustl.edu/e/eop/eopweb/pec0015.0499.082jamespeck.html
 
“Meet the Players: Freedom Riders.”  American Experience.  Web.  http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/americanexperience/features/meet-players-freedom-riders/

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