MLK and RFK -- Early 1968
… King saw, at least as early as the 1963 March on Washington,
that the movement needed to expand beyond anti-discrimination and
into areas like economic equality. That tied into his anger over
Vietnam and the wasted resources he said would be of better use at
home fighting poverty.
“He
was trying to regain something. He was deeply concerned about the
direction of the country and his movement,” said Joseph Rosenbloom,
in his book, Redemption:
Martin Luther King Jr.’s Last 31 Hours. “He was trying
to revitalize the movement. He thought the war was a huge mistake and
was draining resources from far more important causes. He thought
that the most critical issue facing the country was poverty.
The
Vietnam speech and King’s efforts to address poverty was a stark
shift in his thinking and marked a sharp contrast to the optimism of
the “I Have a Dream” speech just four years earlier.
“He
was trying to recruit thousands of poor people and convince them to
come to Washington, possibly for months, to engage in a series of
protests demanding a legislative response to the problems of
poverty,” Rosenbloom said. “They would need to be brought to
Washington. Housed in Washington. fed and organized. That would have
to go on in a controlled fashion for an unpredictable long time. All
that was an enormous task.”
About
60 people gathered in the basement of Ebenezer Baptist Church in
January 1968 for a party that would celebrate King’s last birthday.
He would turn 39….
If
the birthday party served as a reprieve, it was only briefly.
King
immediately got back to work planning the Poor People’s Campaign
while fighting with his own doubts.
“Over
the last three months, Doc is in a shakier emotional state than he
had ever been before,” said Pulitzer Prize-winning author David
Garrow. “It was a combination of exhaustion and the political
pessimism.”
At
that point, King had been under an intense spotlight for 12 years
with nonstop travel and his mood had become increasingly despondent.
“But
it was not just external pressures,” Rosenbloom said. “He
suffered from chronic insomnia. He was on the road all the time and
he was utterly exhausted. And physically, he wasn’t always in
terrific shape.”
[Jesse]
Jackson said at times King talked about giving it all up to spend
his time writing, traveling and making speeches. Even perhaps being
president of Morehouse College.
“He
was trying to figure it out,” Jackson said. “He was preaching
through his pain.”
But
it was becoming painfully clear that the planning for the Poor
People’s Campaign was not going well, even to the point where it
was fracturing the already tender SCLC. Jesse Jackson, Andrew Young
and James Bevel all questioned some aspect of why they were doing it.
“It
was not very well organized and it doesn’t seem that it is gonna
draw folks to D.C.,” said Garrow, the author of “Bearing
the Cross: Martin Luther King Jr. and the Southern Christian
Leadership Conference. “He is very much behind the 8 ball
because everything is running behind.”
On
Feb. 1, two weeks after his birthday party, two Memphis sanitation
workers, Echol Cole and Robert Walker, were crushed to death by a
malfunctioning compactor in a garbage truck where they were taking
shelter from the rain. Their deaths led to a massive strike, peppered
with spates of violence and police confrontations.
As
the impasse tightened, almost in desperation, James Lawson, the
pastor of Centenary Methodist Church in Memphis, called King and
asked him to help put pressure on the mayor (Suggs 6-7).
The
rain was torrential, flooding streets and overflowing sewers. Still,
the Memphis public works department required its sanitation workers —
all black men — to continue to work in the downpour Feb. 1, 1968.
That
day, two sanitation workers, Echol Cole and Robert Walker, took
shelter from the rain in the back of their garbage truck. As Cole and
Walker rode in the back of the truck, an electrical switch
malfunctioned. The compactor turned on.
Cole
and Walker were crushed by the garbage truck compactor. The public
works department refused to compensate their families.
Eleven
days after their deaths, as many as 1,300 black sanitation workers in
Memphis walked off the job, protesting horrible working conditions,
abuse, racism and discrimination by the city …
…
The
men …worked in filth, dragging heavy tubs of garbage onto trucks.
“Most
of the tubs had holes in them,” sanitation worker Taylor Rogers,
recalled in the documentary “At
the River I Stand.” “Garbage would be leaking. When you
went home, you had to stop at the door to pull off your clothes.
Maggots would fall out on you.”
The
men worked long hours for low wages, with no overtime pay and no paid
sick leave. Injuries on the job could lead to their getting fired. If
they didn’t work, they didn’t get paid. Most of them made 65
cents per hour.
“We
felt we would have to let the city know that because we were
sanitation workers, we were human beings. The signs we were carrying
said ‘I Am a Man,’ ” James Douglas, a sanitation worker,
recalled …. “And we were going to demand to have the same
dignity and the same courtesy any other citizen of Memphis has.”
Led
by T.O. Jones, a sanitation worker who had attempted to organize the
workers in a strike years earlier, and supported by the AFSCME, the
men demanded the city recognize their union, increase wages and
improve inhumane conditions for sanitation workers.
…
Memphis’s
then-mayor, Henry Loeb III, refused the demands of the sanitation
workers union, Local 1733, refusing to take malfunctioning trucks off
routes, refusing to pay overtime and refusing to improve conditions.
“It
has been held that all employees of a municipality may not strike for
any purpose,” Loeb said in a 1968 news conference …. “Public
employees cannot strike against your employer. I suggested to these
men you go back to work.”
On
Feb. 14, 1968, Loeb issued an ultimatum, telling the men to return to
work by 7 a.m.
Some
men returned to work under police escort. Negotiations between the
majority of strikers and the city failed. More than 10,000 tons of
garbage had piled up in Memphis….
The
Rev. James Lawson, a King ally, said at a news conference: “When a
public official orders a group of men to ‘get back to work and then
we’ll talk’ and treats them as though they are not men, that is a
racist point of view. And no matter how you dress it up in terms of
whether or not a union can organize it, it is still racism. At the
heart of racism is the idea ‘A man is not a man.’ ”
On Feb. 19, 1968, the NAACP and protesters organized an all-night
sit-in at Memphis City Hall. The next day, the NAACP and the union
called for a citywide boycott of downtown businesses.
…
On
March 18, 1968, King, who was in the midst of working on the Poor
People’s Campaign, flew into Memphis (Brown 1-4).
Robert
F. Kennedy toured eastern Kentucky on February 13 and 14, 1968,
landing at Lexington 's Bluegrass Airport and traveling over two
hundred miles in those two days. At the same time, in Vietnam, the
Tet Offensive was still underway - marking a major turning point in
both the war and in attitudes toward it. Less than a month later, RFK
would announce his candidacy for presidency.
Kennedy's
purpose in touring eastern Kentucky was to examine the outcomes of
the first wave of "war on poverty" legislation with the
people it most affected - previous trips of inquiry were made to the
San Joaquin Valley of California, the Mississippi Delta, northern New
Mexico, and the hills of western Pennsylvania.
…
Kennedy held field hearings for the Senate Subcommittee on
Employment, Manpower and Poverty in two locations during the tour, in
Vortex and Fleming-Neon, taking testimony that would be entered into
the Congressional Record. RFK also visited individual homes,
schoolhouses, and county centers during his tour, focusing on the
needs of children and young people, asking questions about what they
had eaten that day, and viewing for himself the effects of both
poverty and the federal efforts to combat it.
The
schedule of the tour was grueling: Kennedy met dozens of people
individually, spoke to thousands, and traveled over rough mountain
roads, starting with a hearing in Vortex at a one room schoolhouse
whose entire student body consisted of the children of one rural
family; on to another one room school in Barwick, where the teacher,
Bonnie Jean Carroll cooked a hot meal for her students on a
pot-bellied stove everyday; on to Hazard, where he toured the African
American neighborhood, Liberty Street; to a strip mining site where
he viewed for himself the physical destruction produced by surface
mining …
Advance
man Peter Edelman would write: In nearly every place, especially
rural communities, where we found a severe unwillingness to help the
poor, we also found, and not always because of ethnic differences, a
pocket of feudalism in America: a local power structure committed to
perpetuating itself at all costs and unwilling to countenance the
slightest improvement in the lives of the excluded, for fear they
would gain the confidence and the wherewithal to overturn the status
quo at the ballot box. Elected officials, judges, police officers and
sheriffs, and local bankers and business people were always ready to
use any tool necessary to quash dissidence whenever it appeared. This
was true in Cesar Chavez's world in California, in the Rio Grande
valley in south Texas, in Mississippi, and in Appalachia (About
1-3).
The
boy was 11 years old and had never seen a man in the middle of winter
with a suntan and such straight teeth in his corner of the United
States, the small towns baked into the impoverished hills of eastern
Kentucky.
But
here was Sen. Robert F. Kennedy in February of 1968, in a gray coat
and dark, narrow tie, his sandy brown hair falling over his forehead.
The senator stood on the steps of the Letcher County courthouse, a
horde of citizens gazing in wonder at him and the ungainly caravan of
reporters documenting his every step in those days when everyone
expected him to announce his candidacy for president.
“I
stood really close to him — I was able to do that — and that was
the first time I’d seen someone with a suntan in winter,”
Benjamin Gish, now 61, said 50 years later. “I asked my mom how was
that possible? And she said, ‘Only wealthy people can have suntans
in February.’ It was like a big star had come to town. I was amazed
just seeing him there.”
In
those months before he ran for president, Kennedy commanded public
attention opposing the Vietnam War and criticizing President Lyndon
Johnson.
But
he was also preoccupied with the scourge of poverty and hunger, a
focus that had taken him to Bedford-Stuyvesant, a poor neighborhood
in Brooklyn, and to the Mississippi Delta, where he was seen wiping
away tears after venturing into a family’s shack and meeting a
child with a distended stomach who was listless from malnourishment.
Now,
a year later, Kennedy [had] traveled to eastern Kentucky’s
coal country, a region that one local leader told him accounted for
20 of the nation’s 30 poorest counties; where a doctor told Kennedy
that 18 percent of the population was underweight and 50 percent
suffered from intestinal parasites; where one man, Clister Johnson of
Partridge, Ky., told him that he, his wife and nine children survived
on a monthly income of $60.
“They’re
desperate and filled with despair,” Kennedy told a television
reporter. “It seems to me that in this country, as wealthy as we
are, this is an intolerable condition. It reflects on all of us. We
can do things all over the rest of the world but I think we should do
things for people in our own country.”
Over
the course of two days, Kennedy traveled 300 miles in Appalachia,
stopping in towns with names such as Neon and Hazard and Pippa
Passes. He held two public hearings, one of them in a one-room
schoolhouse, visited people in their beat-up homes and tapped into a
“deep vein of disillusionment,” as described at the time by
William Greider, then a reporter for the Louisville
Courier-Journal.
“Don’t
Give Us Anymore Promises,” read a banner at one stop. “We Can’t
Eat Your Fancy Promises.”
…
Greider,
who would later write for The
Washington Post, Rolling
Stone and the Nation,
said he was “put off by the theatrics and manipulation” as he
approached the trip, a sense that Kennedy was stringing along the
public and the press, which was awaiting word on whether he would
run.
Yet
Greider said he saw something during those two days in Kentucky that
“captured me and changed my mind a little bit about Bobby Kennedy.”
It occurred at a schoolhouse, where the senator and his entourage
arrived to find six or eight students and their teacher “who were
in shock when we stormed in. Terrified. They didn’t know what this
was, they had never heard of Bobby Kennedy or national politics.”
“These
kids were hunkered down at their desks, hoping that this storm would
pass, and he grasped immediately that this was a horror show,”
Greider said. “He went around, one by one, kneeling by their desks.
He didn’t say very much. He nodded at them, talked to them in
whispers, held their hands. It was such a human response. This was a
side of the politician you don’t see very often” (Schwartzman
1-4).
Works
cited:
“About
RFK's 1968 Tour.” The Robert F. Kennedy Performance Project.
Web. http://rfkineky.org/1968-tour.htm
Brown,
DaNeen L. “‘I Am a Man’: The Ugly Memphis
Sanitation Workers’ Strike that Led to MLK’s Assassination”
The Washington Post. February
12, 2018. Web.
https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/retropolis/wp/2018/02/12/i-am-a-man-the-1968-memphis-sanitation-workers-strike-that-led-to-mlks-assassination/
Schwartzman,
Paul. “They Were Kentucky’s Poorest, Most
Desperate People. And He Was a Kennedy with an Entourage.” The
Washington Post. February 212, 2018.
Web.
https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/retropolis/wp/2018/02/21/they-were-kentuckys-poorest-most-desperate-people-and-he-was-a-kennedy-with-an-entourage-and-presidential-aspirations/?noredirect=on
Suggs,
Ernie. “Honoring Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.” AJC: The Atlanta
Journal-Constitution. Web. http://honoringmlk.com/