March to Montgomery
Bloody Sunday
Anticipating that
their march will not be allowed out of Selma ,
SCLC leaders make few logistic preparations for a 50-mile trek to Montgomery Washington Atlanta Selma
Here is a different accounting of King’s absence.
On Saturday, March 6,
King was back in Atlanta Selma
On Sunday morning,
though, King’s aides reported that more than five hundred pilgrims were
gathered at Brown Chapel and that Williams wanted permission to march that day.
In his church office King thought it over and relayed word to Brown Chapel that
his people could start without him. Since the march had been prohibited, he was
certain that they would get arrested at the bridge. He would simply join them
in jail. He expected no mayhem on Highway 80, since even the conservative Alabama press had excoriated Lingo’s troopers for their
savagery in Marion
John Lewis
recalled: We expected a confrontation. We knew that Sheriff Clark had issued
yet another call the evening before for even more deputies. Mass arrests would
probably be made. There might be injuries. Most likely, we would be stopped at
the edge of the city limits, arrested and maybe roughed up a little bit. We did
not expect anything worse than that.
Charles Bonner, a Selma student leader, remembered: Even
though we had been demonstrating for two years now, we had the uneasiness that
this was going to be a different day — uneasiness is to put it
mildly, if not euphemistically, because frankly it was a fear, it was a terror
that was going through us all. We were scared, because we didn't know what was
going to happen.
With horns blaring, a
caravan of cars filled with 200 marchers from Perry County
It is mid-afternoon
when the 600 or so marchers line up two-by-two and head for the bridge. Leading
the line are Hosea Williams and John Lewis, behind them are SCLC leader Albert
Turner of Marion Selma
Police roadblocks have
closed the bridge to vehicles. The MCHR ambulances are blocked. Gangs of
possemen on foot lurk nearby. The marchers remain on the sidewalk as they start
up the bridge rise. When the leaders reach the crest, they see what awaits on
the other side. State trooper cars, their lights flashing, are parked across
the highway. A phalanx of more than 200 troopers and sheriff's deputies are
lined up two and three deep to bar the march. To one side is a band of possemen
in their khaki uniforms and construction helmets. More than a dozen of them are
mounted on horses and they carry long leather bullwhips. White thugs armed with
bats and pipes and waving Confederate battle flags crowd the burger-joint
parking lot.
As the marchers start
down the bridge slope toward the waiting cops, Hosea Williams looks over the
rail at the cold, choppy waters of the Alabama River
100 feet below. "Can you swim," he asks John Lewis. "No."
"Neither can I, but we might have to."
The media is confined
off to the side where their view is limited. With their usual clueless
certainty, TV reporters are telling viewers that the "militant" SNCC
has "forced" this dangerous march on an "unwilling" Dr.
King.
Charles Bonner: We kept stepping two by two, one foot in
front of the other one, marching resolutely into hell, because it was so clear
that we were going to be beaten. I mean, these men were just so prepared, they
were not going to let their readiness go to waste by not beating us. I mean,
when you look back on it, it was very clear.
When they come down
off the bridge, the marchers cross over the Selma Alabama Jefferson Davis Highway
“It would be
detrimental to your safety to continue this march,” Major John Cloud called out
from his bullhorn. “This is an unlawful assembly. You have to disperse, you are
ordered to disperse. Go home or go to your church. This march will not
continue.”
“Mr. Major,” replied
Williams, “I would like to have a word, can we have a word?”
“I’ve got nothing
further to say to you,” Cloud answered (Remembering 5).
As planned, the
leaders motion for everyone to kneel in prayer.
Bonner: "I was probably about 10 to 15 rows back
from John Lewis. ... I saw John Lewis ... kneel down with Hosea Williams, and
of course we sat, like these waves you seen in the stadiums, as they knelt all
the demonstrators behind fell in line and I knelt as well.
"Troopers
Advance!" shouts the Major. A wave of cops smashes into the people at the
front of the line.
Charles Fager: From between nearby buildings a line of
horses emerged at the gallop, their riders wearing the possemen's irregular
uniform and armed with bullwhips, ropes, and lengths of rubber tubing wrapped
with barbed wire. They rode into the melee with wild rebel yells, while behind
them the cheers of the spectators grew even louder. "Get those Goddamned
niggers!" came Jim Clark's voice. "And get those Goddamned white
niggers!"
John Lewis: The troopers and possemen swept forward as
one, like a human wave, a blur of blue shirts and billy clubs and bullwhips. We
had no chance to turn and retreat. There were six hundred people behind us,
bridge railings to either side and the river below. ... The first of the
troopers came over me, a large husky man. Without a word he swung his club
against the left side of my head. I didn't feel any pain, just the thud of the
blow, and my legs giving way. ... And then the same trooper hit me again. And
everything started to spin. I heard something that sounded like gunshots. And
then a cloud of smoke rose all around us. Tear gas. ... I began choking,
coughing. I couldn't get air into my lungs. I felt as if I was taking my last
breath.
Amelia Boynton is
viciously clubbed to the ground and tear gas is shot directly into her face as
she collapses into unconsciousness. Hosea Williams scoops up little Sheyann
Webb and carries her to safety through the tear gas and charging horses.
Sheyann Webb: He held on until we were off the bridge and
down on Broad Street
Behind the possemen
come the white thugs, beating down anyone who manages to stumble out of the gas
cloud. They assault the reporters and break their cameras. One of the "reporters"
is actually an FBI agent, and the three men who attack him are later arrested
for assault on a federal agent. They are the only whites ever arrested for
violence on "Bloody Sunday." They are never brought to trial.
The troopers,
deputies, possemen, and thugs pursue the retreating marchers over the bridge
and through the city streets, beating and assaulting Blacks wherever they find
them — whether they're demonstrators or not. Dr. Moldovan and nurses Virginia
Wells and Linda Dugan plunge into the swirling tumult. They lift unconscious
and crippled victims into their ambulance and race back to the aid station at
Brown Chapel, which is quickly swamped with the injured and wounded. By the end
of the day, 100 of the 600 marchers require medical attention for fractured
skulls, broken teeth and limbs, gas poisoning, and whip lashes.
The troopers and
possemen swarm into the Carver Projects beating whomever they catch and
charging their horses up the steps of Brown Chapel to attack those trying to
seek sanctuary in the church. Another band of possemen force their way into
First Baptist and throw a teenage boy through a stained glass window. Sheriff
Clark fires tear gas into homes to drive people outside where they can be
attacked. [Wilson
Sheyann Webb's
constant companion, Rachel West, 8 years old, recalls:
I saw the horsemen ... riding at a gallop, coming around
a house up the way, and that's when I turned and ran. I heard the horses'
hooves and I turned and saw the riders hitting at the people and they were
coming fast toward me. I stopped and got up against the wall of one of the
apartment buildings and pressed myself against it as hard as I could. Two
horsemen went by and I knew if I didn't move I would be trapped there. I saw
the people crying [from the gas] as they went by and holding their eyes and
some had their arms up over their heads.
I took off running. ... I was out in the open then, right in the middle of the street and heading for the yard toward our house, and I heard these other horsemen coming and I knew they were going to catch me. I just knew they were going to either trample me or hit me with a club or whip. My legs didn't seem to be moving — it was like in a bad dream when you are chased by something and can't run. Well, just as I got to the yard this white [SNCC worker] named Frank Soracco came by me and he was moving fast. And I must have been crying out, because he stopped and just swept me up and carried me under the armpits and kept moving.
I took off running. ... I was out in the open then, right in the middle of the street and heading for the yard toward our house, and I heard these other horsemen coming and I knew they were going to catch me. I just knew they were going to either trample me or hit me with a club or whip. My legs didn't seem to be moving — it was like in a bad dream when you are chased by something and can't run. Well, just as I got to the yard this white [SNCC worker] named Frank Soracco came by me and he was moving fast. And I must have been crying out, because he stopped and just swept me up and carried me under the armpits and kept moving.
Some Blacks begin to
retaliate with thrown rocks and bottles, but Movement leaders and civil rights
workers move among them, urging nonviolent discipline. The cops are raging with
mob fury, all control abandoned to racist hate. Many are now carrying loaded
rifles and shotguns at the ready. The activists know that if a single white
officer is injured by a tossed brick there'll be a blood-bath of indiscriminate
gunfire.
Eventually, the frenzy
of cop violence subsides and the forces of "law and order" occupy the
Carver Project and Selma Good Samaritan Hospital
Among those
hospitalized is John Lewis with a skull fracture and concussion. Before he
allows himself to be taken to hospital, he tells the battered and bruised
people gathered in Brown Chapel, "I don't known how President Johnson can
send troops to Vietnam Congo Selma , Alabama Montgomery Washington Selma
As the afternoon wanes
and evening falls, Brown Chapel remains crowded with marchers and supporters
huddling together for mutual support. Acrid tear gas fumes still emanate from
clothes and skin. Eyes weep and breathing is labored. There is anger and rage,
of course, but also deep humiliation at being whipped and beaten and driven.
Outside, the troopers and deputies strut like conquering heroes. Inside, people
are dispirited and dejected. They have endured so much, violence, jail,
economic retaliation, and yet despite all, practically no one has been
registered to vote.
Sheyann Webb recalls:
When
I had first gotten to the church ... my eyes were still swollen and burning
from the tear gas. But what I saw there made me cry again. I'll never forget
the faces of those people. I'd never seen such looks before. I remember
standing and looking at them a long time before sitting down. They weren't
afraid, because they were too beaten to know any more fear. It was as though nobody
cared to even try to win anything anymore, like we were slaves after all and
had been put in our place by a good beating.
I sat with Rachel up toward the front. ... we were just sitting there crying, listening to the others cry; some were even moaning and wailing. It was an awful thing. It was like we were at our own funeral. But then later in the night, maybe nine-thirty or ten, I don't know for sure, all of a sudden somebody there started humming. I think they were moaning and it just went into the humming of a freedom song. It was real low, but some of us children began humming along, slow and soft. At first I didn't even know what it was, what song, I mean. It was like a funeral sound, a dirge. Then I recognized it — "Ain't Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me' Round." I'd never heard it or hummed it that way before. But it just started to catch on, and the people began to pick it up. It started to swell, the humming.
Then we began singing the words. We sang, "Ain't gonna let George Wallace turn me 'round." And, "Ain't gonna let Jim Clark turn me 'round." Ain't gonna let no state trooper turn me 'round. Ain't gonna let no horses. ..ain't gonna let no tear gas — ain't gonna let nobody turn me 'round." Nobody!
And everybody's singing now, and some of them are clapping their hands, and they're still crying, but it's a different kind of crying. It's the kind of crying that's got spirit, not the weeping they had been doing. And me and Rachel are crying and singing and it just gets louder and louder. I know the state troopers outside the church heard it. Everybody heard it. Because more people were coming in then, leaving their apartments and coming to the church — because something was happening.
We was singing and telling the world that we hadn't been whipped ... I think we all realized it at the same time, that we had won something that day, because people were standing up and singing like I'd never heard them before. ... When I first went into that church that evening those people sitting there were beaten — I mean their spirit, their will was beaten. But when that singing started, we grew stronger. Each one of us said to ourselves that we could go back out there and face the tear gas, face the horses, face whatever Jim Clark could throw at us (March 6-12).
I sat with Rachel up toward the front. ... we were just sitting there crying, listening to the others cry; some were even moaning and wailing. It was an awful thing. It was like we were at our own funeral. But then later in the night, maybe nine-thirty or ten, I don't know for sure, all of a sudden somebody there started humming. I think they were moaning and it just went into the humming of a freedom song. It was real low, but some of us children began humming along, slow and soft. At first I didn't even know what it was, what song, I mean. It was like a funeral sound, a dirge. Then I recognized it — "Ain't Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me' Round." I'd never heard it or hummed it that way before. But it just started to catch on, and the people began to pick it up. It started to swell, the humming.
Then we began singing the words. We sang, "Ain't gonna let George Wallace turn me 'round." And, "Ain't gonna let Jim Clark turn me 'round." Ain't gonna let no state trooper turn me 'round. Ain't gonna let no horses. ..ain't gonna let no tear gas — ain't gonna let nobody turn me 'round." Nobody!
And everybody's singing now, and some of them are clapping their hands, and they're still crying, but it's a different kind of crying. It's the kind of crying that's got spirit, not the weeping they had been doing. And me and Rachel are crying and singing and it just gets louder and louder. I know the state troopers outside the church heard it. Everybody heard it. Because more people were coming in then, leaving their apartments and coming to the church — because something was happening.
We was singing and telling the world that we hadn't been whipped ... I think we all realized it at the same time, that we had won something that day, because people were standing up and singing like I'd never heard them before. ... When I first went into that church that evening those people sitting there were beaten — I mean their spirit, their will was beaten. But when that singing started, we grew stronger. Each one of us said to ourselves that we could go back out there and face the tear gas, face the horses, face whatever Jim Clark could throw at us (March 6-12).
…
ATLANTA: Throughout
the late afternoon, urgent phone conversations are held between Movement
leaders in Selma and Dr. King and his executive
staff in Atlanta
Dr. King decides. They
have to defy Wallace and Clark by marching again. But not alone. For the first
time ever, he mobilizes all of SCLC's resources to issue a nationwide call for
people of conscience to stand with local Blacks as they nonviolently confront
troopers, deputies, and possemen. In previous years, small groups of
northerners had been asked to support protests in places like Birmingham and
St. Augustine, but never before has King made a general plea for thousands of
people to place their bodies on the line against police violence. As night
falls, hundreds of telegrams are being dispatched from Atlanta
The people of Selma Selma for a
minister’s march to Montgomery
…
Tuesday is chosen to
give northern supporters time to reach Selma, and also time for SCLC attorneys
to file a motion in federal court on Monday morning to prevent the state of Alabama Selma to Montgomery Montgomery U.S.
When word of the
brutal attack arrives from Selma , members of the
SNCC Executive Committee are meeting in Atlanta Selma Atlanta
to Selma
SNCC veteran and Selma
On Bloody Sunday,
March 7, 1965, I was at the Atlanta SNCC office
when a call came from ... Selma Selma
It was a very traumatic time for me. When we
got there we saw what had happened. It was a bloody mess; people's heads had
been beaten; they'd been gassed. Of course we held a rally. At the meeting
people were angry; they, too, had been traumatized. One man stood up and said,
"I was out on the bridge today because I thought it was right. But while I
was on the bridge, Jim Clark came to my house and tear-gassed my
eighty-year-old mother, and next time he comes to my house, I'm going to be
ready." Everybody understood what that meant. People had lived their lives
basically sleeping with guns beside their beds — that was just a part of the
culture. These were people who were struggling to be nonviolent, who in their
hearts and spirits were not a violent people, but they also had notions of
self-defense."
…
NATION: Across the
country, Freedom Movement activists respond. Some begin mobilizing support
demonstrations at federal buildings in their home communities. Others head for Alabama
I was on the [Friends
of SNCC] steering committee in New
York Riverside Drive New York
The Sunday night movie
on ABC is the network premier of Judgment at Nuremburg, a major TV event with an estimated audience of 48 million.
Correspondent Frank Reynolds interrupts the program with news from Selma
Nearly 50 million
Americans who had tuned into the film’s long-awaited television premier
couldn’t escape the historical echoes of Nazi storm troopers in the scenes of
the rampaging state troopers. “The juxtaposition struck like psychological
lightning in American homes,” wrote Gene Roberts and Hank Klibanoff in “The
Race Beat.”
The connection wasn’t
lost in Selma Nuremberg ’ on the Late
Show the other night and I thought it
fits right in; it’s just like Selma
For many Americans who
have never before marched, never before protested, Bloody Sunday is the tipping
point that moves them into action. Not Bloody Sunday alone, of course, but the
cumulative effect of all that has gone before. Students, clergy, housewives,
and men and women from all walks of life, both Black and white, determine to
take a stand. Some hear of and respond to King's call, others act
spontaneously. Some hit the road for Selma , some
protest locally, some demand immediate action from their U.S.
Works cited:
Klein, Christopher. “Remembering
Selma
“March 7, ‘Bloody Sunday.’”
The March to Montgomery Selma & the
March to Montgomery
Oates, Stephen B. “The
Week the World Watched Selma
“Sunday, March 7.” The March to Montgomery Selma & the
March to Montgomery
“Tension Escalates.” Selma Selma & the
March to Montgomery
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