50 Years Later: `free but equal?' In Freguson, Staten Island, and all over the USA

"At our first stop in Virginia . . . I [was] confronted with what the Southern white has called `separate but equal.' A modern rest station with gleaming counters and picture windows was labelled `White,' and a small wooden shack beside it was tagged `Colored.'"
-- Freedom Rider William Mahoney [26]
In 1947, the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE) planned a "Journey of Reconciliation," designed to test the Supreme Court's 1946 decision in the Irene Morgan case, which declared segregated seating of interstate passengers unconstitutional. An interracial group of passengers met with heavy resistance in the upper South. Some members of the group served on a chain gang after their arrest in North Carolina. [27] The Journey of Reconciliation quickly broke down. Clearly the South, even the more moderate upper South, was not ready for integration.
Nearly a decade and a half later, John F. Kennedy was elected president, in large part due to widespread support among blacks who believed that Kennedy was more sympathetic to the civil rights movement than his opponent, Richard Nixon. Once in office, however, Kennedy proved less committed to the movement than he had appeared during the campaign. To test the president's commitment to civil rights, CORE proposed a new Journey of Reconciliation, dubbed the "Freedom Ride." The strategy was the same: an interracial group would board buses destined for the South. The whites would sit in the back and the blacks in the front. At rest stops, the whites would go into blacks-only areas and vice versa. "This was not civil disobedience, really," explained CORE director James Farmer, "because we [were] merely doing what the Supreme Court said we had a right to do." But the Freedom Riders expected to meet resistance. "We felt we could count on the racists of the South to create a crisis so that the federal government would be compelled to enforce the law," said Farmer. "When we began the ride I think all of us were prepared for as much violence as could be thrown at us. We were prepared for the possibility of death." [28]
The Freedom Ride left Washington DC on May 4, 1961. It was scheduled to arrive in New Orleans on May 17, the seventh anniversary of the Brown decision. Unlike the original Journey of Reconciliation, the Freedom Ride met little resistance in the upper South.On Mother's Day, May 14, the Freedom Riders split up into two groups to travel through Alabama. The first group was met by a mob of about 200 angry people in Anniston. The mob stoned the bus and slashed the tires. The bus managed to get away, but when it stopped about six miles out of town to change the tires, it was firebombed. The other group did not fare any better. It was greeted by a mob in Birmingham, and the Riders were severely beaten. Birmingham's Public Safety Commissioner, Bull Conner, claimed he posted no officers at the bus depot because of the holiday; however, it was later discovered that the FBI knew of the planned attack and that the city police stayed away on purpose. Alabama governor John Patterson offered no apologies, explaining, "When you go somewhere looking for trouble, you usually find it . . . . You just can't guarantee the safety of a fool and that's what these folks are, just fools." [29]
Despite the violence, the Freedom Riders were determined to continue. Jim Peck, a white who had fifty stitches from the beatings he received, insisted, "I think it is particularly important at this time when it has become national news that we continue and show that nonviolence can prevail over violence." [30] The bus company, however, did not want to risk losing another bus to a bombing, and its drivers, who were all white, did not want to risk their lives. After two days of unsuccessful negotiations, the Freedom Riders, fearing for their safety, flew to New Orleans. It appeared that the Freedom Ride was over.
At that point, however, a group of Nashville sit-in students decided to go to Birmingham and continue the Freedom Ride. Diane Nash, who helped organize the group, later explained, "If the Freedom Riders had been stopped as a result of violence, I strongly felt that the future of the movement was going to be cut short. The impression would have been that whenever a movement starts, all [you have to do] is attack it with massive violence and the blacks [will] stop." [31] The Nashville students traveled to Birmingham and asked the bus company to let them use their buses. Attorney general Kennedy also leaned on the bus company and the Birmingham police. He was determined to enforce the Supreme Court's decision that called for integration of interstate travel, and he worried that if the Nashville students remained in Birmingham much longer, violence might erupt. On May 17, the Birmingham police arrested the Nashville Freedom Riders and placed them in protective custody. At 2 AM on Friday, the police drove the Riders back to Tennessee, dumping them by the side of the highway at the state line. After they got a ride back to Nashville, 100 miles away, they went right back to Birmingham.
Meanwhile, Governor Patterson agreed to meet with John Seigenthaler, a Justice Department aide and a native of Tennessee. In the meeting, Floyd Mann, head of the state highway patrol, agreed to protect the Freedom Riders in between Birmingham. Attorney General Robert Kennedy then pressured the Greyhound bus company, which finally agreed to carry the Riders. The Freedom Riders left Birmingham on Saturday, May 20. State police promised "that a private plane would fly over the bus, and there would be a state patrol car every fifteen or twenty miles along the highway between Birmingham and Montgomery -- about ninety miles," recalled Freedom Rider John Lewis. Police protection, however, disappeared as the Freedom Riders entered the Montgomery city limits. The bus terminal was quiet. "And then, all of a sudden, just like magic, white people everywhere," said Freedom Rider Frederick Leonard. [32] The Riders considered leaving by the back of the bus in hopes that the mob would not be quite as vicious. But Jim Zwerg, a white rider, bravely marched off the bus first. The other riders slipped off while the mob focused on pummeling Zwerg. Floyd Mann tried to stop the mob, but it continued to beat the Riders and those who came to their aid, such as Justice Department official John Seigenthaler, who was beaten unconscious and left in the street for nearly a half an hour after he stopped to help two Freedom Riders. Mann finally ordered in state troopers, but the damage was already done. When news of the Montgomery attack reached Washington, Robert Kennedy was not happy. He decided to send federal marshals to the city.
Martin Luther King, Jr., flew to Montgomery and held a mass meeting, surrounded by federal marshals, in support of the Freedom Riders. As night fell, a mob of several thousand whites surrounded the church. The blacks could not leave safely. At 3 AM, King called Robert Kennedy and Kennedy called Governor Patterson. Patterson declared martial law and sent in state police and the National Guard. The mob dispersed and the blacks left safely.
After the violence at the church, Robert Kennedy asked for a cooling-off period. The Freedom Riders, however, were intent on continuing. James Farmer explained, "[W]e'd been cooling off for 350 years, and . . . if we cooled off any more, we'd be in a deep freeze." The Riders decided to continue on to Mississippi. They were given good protection as they entered the state, and no mob greeted them at the Jackson bus terminal. "As we walked through, the police just said, `Keep moving' and let us go through the white side," recalled Frederick Leonard. "We never got stopped. They just said `Keep moving,' and they passed us right on through the white terminal into the paddy wagon and into jail." [33] Robert Kennedy and Mississippi Senator James O. Eastland had reached a compromise. Kennedy promised not to use federal troops if there was no mob violence. Both men kept up their end of the bargain. Unfortunately, the Freedom Riders were now at the mercy of the local courts. On May 25, they were tried. As their attorney defended them, the judge turned his back. Once the attorney finished, he turned around and sentenced them to 60 days in the state penitentiary.
More Freedom Riders arrived in Jackson to continue the Freedom Ride, and they were arrested too. Freedom Riders continued to arrive in the South, and by the end of the summer, more than 300 had been arrested.
The Freedom Riders never made it to New Orleans. Many spent their summer in jail. Some were scarred for life from the beatings they received. But their efforts were not in vain. They forced the Kennedy administration to take a stand on civil rights, which was the intent of the Freedom Ride in the first place. In addition, the Interstate Commerce Commission, at the request of Robert Kennedy, outlawed segregation in interstate bus travel in a ruling, more specific than the original Supreme Court mandate, that took effect in September, 1961. The Freedom Riders may not have finished their trip, but they made an important and lasting contribution to the civil rights movement.

9 more Black pearls: 4 Little Black Pearls-four little Black girls had been attending Sunday school classes at the church...

9 black pearls scattered on the Black Church floor:   Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, SC....
In addition to Mr. Pinckney, 41 year old pastor and state senator, the victims were Cynthia Hurd, 54, who served as the regional manager of the St. Andrews branch of the county library; the Rev. DePayne Middleton Doctor, 49, the mother of four daughters — the youngest is in junior high school and the oldest is in college; Sharonda Coleman-Singleton, 45, a coach of the girls’ track and field team and a speech therapist at Goose Creek High School; Tywanza Sanders, 26, who had graduated from Allen University as a business administration major last year and was looking for a job; Ethel Lee Lance, 70, who had worked at the church for more than three decades; the Rev. Daniel L. Simmons Sr., a retired pastor from another church in Charleston; Myra Thompson, 59; and Susie Jackson, 87.

The Sixteenth Street Baptist Church in Birmingham was used as a meeting-place for civil rights leaders such as Martin Luther King, Ralph David Abernathy and Fred Shutterworth. Tensions became high when the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC) and the Congress on Racial Equality (CORE) became involved in a campaign to register African American to vote in Birmingham.
On Sunday, 15th September, 1963, a white man was seen getting out of a white and turquoise Chevrolet car and placing a box under the steps of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church. Soon afterwards, at 10.22 a.m., the bomb exploded killing Denise McNair (11), Addie Mae Collins (14), Carole Robertson (14) and Cynthia Wesley (14). The four girls had been attending Sunday school classes at the church. Twenty-three other people were also hurt by the blast.

Addie Mae Collins

Denise McNair

Carole Robertson

Cynthia Wesley

Civil rights activists blamed George Wallace, the Governor of Alabama, for the killings. Only a week before the bombing he had told the New York Times that to stop integration Alabama needed a "few first-class funerals."
A witness identified Robert Chambliss, a member of the Ku Klux Klan, as the man who placed the bomb under the steps of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church. He was arrested and charged with murder and possessing a box of 122 sticks of dynamite without a permit. On 8th October, 1963, Chambliss was found not guilty of murder and received a hundred-dollar fine and a six-month jail sentence for having the dynamite.
The case was unsolved until Bill Baxley was elected attorney general of Alabama. He requested the original Federal Bureau of Investigation files on the case and discovered that the organization had accumulated a great deal of evidence against Chambliss that had not been used in the original trial.
In November, 1977 Chambliss was tried once again for the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church bombing. Now aged 73, Chambliss was found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment. Chambliss died in an Alabama prison on 29th October, 1985.
On 17th May, 2000, the FBI announced that the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church bombing had been carried out by the Ku Klux Klan splinter group, the Cahaba Boys. It was claimed that four men, Robert Chambliss, Herman Cash, Thomas Blanton and Bobby Cherry had been responsible for the crime. Cash was dead but Blanton and Cherry were arrested.
In May 2002 the 71 year old Bobby Cherry was convicted of the murder of Denise McNair, Addie Mae Collins, Carole Robertson and Cynthia Wesley and was sentenced to life in prison.

A diamond in the rough

Invest in the human soul. Who knows, it might be a diamond in the rough.
Mary McLeod Bethune

We have a powerful potential in our youth

We have a powerful potential in our youth, and we must have the courage to change old ideas and practices so that we may direct their power toward good ends.
Mary McLeod Bethune

Bowie State University-First Lady Michelle Obama

Remarks by 

First Lady Michelle Obama 

at the Bowie State University 

Commencement Ceremony

 Speech by First Lady Michelle Obama 

At University of Maryland, College Park, Maryland

May 16, 2013

MRS. OBAMA:  Well, thank you.  (Applause.)  Oh, my goodness.  Thank you so much.  (Applause.)  Oh, my goodness.  It is such a -- you all, rest yourselves.  You’ve got a long day ahead.  It is beyond a pleasure and an honor for me to be here with all of you today.
Of course, I want to start by thanking President Bernim for that very kind introduction, for this wonderful degree, and for his outstanding leadership here at Bowie State University.  I also want to recognize Chancellor Kirwan, Provost Jackson, Executive Vice President and General Counsel Karen Johnson Shaheed, Vice Chair Barry Gossett.  And of course, I want to thank the BSU Madrigal Singers -- they did a great job -- the university choir, and DeMarcus Franklin for their wonderful performances here today.  You all are amazing.  I just wish I could sing.  Can’t sing a lick.
I also want to recognize today’s Presidential Medal of Excellence recipient, Professor Freeman Hrabowski, who’s a for-real brother as well.  (Applause.)  And I want to thank him for his tremendous work as the Chair of the President’s Advisory Commission on Educational Excellence for African Americans.  He has done some magnificent work, but we have so much more work to do.
And let’s take another moment to thank all of the beautiful people sitting all around us today -- the folks who have loved you and pushed you and put up with you every step of the way.  (Applause.)  Give another round of applause to all the family members who are here today.  (Applause.)  Yes, indeed.  This is your day, too.
But most of all, to the Bowie State University class of 2013, congratulations.  (Applause.)  Oh, congratulations.  You don’t know how proud we all are of you.  Just look at you.  We’re so proud of how hard you worked, all those long hours in the classroom, in the library.  Oh, yeah.  Amen.  (Laughter.)  All those jobs you worked to help pay your tuition.  Many of you are the first in your families to get a college degree.  (Applause.)  Some of you are balancing school with raising families of your own.  (Applause.)  So I know this journey hasn’t been easy.  I know you’ve had plenty of moments of doubt and frustration and just plain exhaustion.
But listen, you dug deep and you kept pushing forward to make it to this magnificent day.  (Applause.)  And in doing so, you didn’t just complete an important chapter in your own story, you also became part of the story of this great university -- a story that began nearly 150 years ago, not far from where we all sit today.  As you all know, this school first opened its doors in January of 1865, in an African Baptist church in Baltimore.  And by 1866, just a year later, it began offering education courses to train a new generation of African American teachers.
Now, just think about this for a moment:  For generations, in many parts of this country, it was illegal for black people to get an education.  Slaves caught reading or writing could be beaten to within an inch of their lives.  Anyone -- black or white -- who dared to teach them could be fined or thrown into jail.  And yet, just two years after the Emancipation Proclamation was signed, this school was founded not just to educate African Americans, but to teach them how to educate others.  It was in many ways an act of defiance, an eloquent rebuttal to the idea that black people couldn’t or shouldn’t be educated.  And since then, generations of students from all backgrounds have come to this school to be challenged, inspired and empowered.  And they have gone on to become leaders here in Maryland and across this country, running businesses, educating young people, leading the high-tech industries that will power our economy for decades to come.
That is the story of Bowie State University, the commitment to educating our next generation and building ladders of opportunity for anyone willing to work for it.  All of you are now part of that story.  And with that tremendous privilege comes an important set of responsibilities -- responsibilities that you inherit the moment you leave this stadium with that diploma in your hand.
And that’s what I want to talk with you about today.  I want to talk about the obligations that come with a Bowie State education, and how you can fulfill those obligations by how you live your lives.
So let’s return, for a moment, to the time when the school and others like it were founded.  Many of these schools were little more than drafty log cabins with mud floors, leaky roofs and smoke-wood stoves in the corner.  Blackboards, maps, and even books were considered luxuries.  And both students and teachers faced constant threats from those who refuse to accept freedom for African Americans.
In one Eastern Shore town, a teacher reported to work one morning to find that someone had smashed the windows of her schoolhouse.  Other black schools across Maryland were burned to the ground.  Teachers received death threats.  One was even beaten by an angry mob.  But despite the risks, understand, students flocked to these schools in droves, often walking as many as eight to ten miles a day to get their education.  In fact, the educational association that founded Bowie State wrote in their 1864 report that -- and this is a quote -- “These people are coming in beyond our ability to receive them.”  Desperately poor communities held fundraisers for these schools, schools which they often built with their own hands.  And folks who were barely scraping by dug deep into their own pockets to donate money.
You see, for these folks, education was about more than just learning to read or write.  As the abolitionist Fredrick Douglas put it, “Education means emancipation,” he said.  He said, “It means light and liberty.  It means the uplifting of the soul of man into the glorious light of truth, the only light by which men can be free.”  You hear that?  The only light by which men can be free.  (Applause.)
So to the folks who showed up to your school on that January day back in 1865, education meant nothing less than freedom.  It meant economic independence, a chance to provide for their families.  It meant political empowerment, the chance to read the newspaper and articulate an informed opinion, and take their rightful place as full citizens of this nation.
So back then, people were hungry to learn.  Do you hear me?  Hungry to get what they needed to succeed in this country.  And that hunger did not fade over time.  If anything, it only grew stronger.  I mean, think about the century-long battle that so many folks waged to end the evil of segregation.  Think about civil rights icons like Thurgood Marshall, Dr. King, who argued groundbreaking school integration cases, led historic marches, protests, and boycotts.  As you know, Dr. King’s house was bombed.  A police chief pulled a gun on Thurgood Marshall.  They both received piles of hate mail and countless death threats, but they kept on fighting.
Think about those nine young men and women who faced down an angry mob just to attend school in Little Rock, Arkansas.  And that was just the first day.  For months afterwards, they were spat on, jeered at, punched, and tripped as they walked down the halls.  Their classmates threw food at them in the cafeteria and hurled ink at them during class.  But they kept on showing up.  They kept claiming their rightful place at that school.
And think about little Ruby Bridges, who was just six years old when she became one of the first black children in New Orleans to attend an all-white school.  Parents actually pulled their children out of that school in protest.  People retaliated against her family.  Her father lost his job.  And only one teacher at that entire school would agree to teach her.  But the Bridges family refused to back down.  So for an entire year, little Ruby sat all alone, a class of one, dutifully learning her lessons.
See, that is the sacrifice that those folks and so many others have made.  That is the hunger they felt.  For them and so many others, getting an education was literally a matter of life or death.
But today, more than 150 years after the Emancipation Proclamation, more than 50 years after the end of “separate but equal,” when it comes to getting an education, too many of our young people just can’t be bothered.  Today, instead of walking miles every day to school, they’re sitting on couches for hours playing video games, watching TV.  Instead of dreaming of being a teacher or a lawyer or a business leader, they’re fantasizing about being a baller or a rapper.  (Applause.)  Right now, one in three African American students are dropping out of high school.  Only one in five African Americans between the ages of 25 and 29 has gotten a college degree -- one in five.
But let’s be very clear.  Today, getting an education is as important if not more important than it was back when this university was founded.  Just look at the statistics.  (Applause.)  People who earn a bachelor’s degree or higher make nearly three times more money than high school dropouts, and they’re far less likely to be unemployed.  A recent study even found that African American women with a college degree live an average of six and a half years longer than those without.  And for men, it’s nearly 10 years longer.  So yes, people who are more educated actually live longer.
So I think we can agree, and we need to start feeling that hunger again, you know what I mean?  (Applause.)  We need to once again fight to educate ourselves and our children like our lives depend on it, because they do.
We need to dig deep and find the same kind of grit and determination that drove those first students at this school and generations of students who came after them.  I am talking about the kind of grit and determination displayed by folks right here at Bowie State.  Folks like Ariel Williams-Edwards, one of today’s graduates.  (Applause.)  Yeah, Ariel!  Ariel’s mother struggled with substance abuse, and Ariel and her sister were removed from her care and sent to live with their grandmother.
But Ariel decided to draw inspiration from her struggle -- she majored in Social Work so she could help families like hers.  (Applause.)  Yes!  She became a member of the Phi Alpha National Honor Society.  And she’s been accepted to graduate school to get her master’s degree in Social Work starting in September.  Yes, indeed.  (Applause.)
And then there’s Audrey Marie Lugmayer, another one of this year’s graduates.  Audrey is the daughter of a single father, and her dad has struggled with some serious health issues.  So after graduating from high school, Audrey worked full time for a year, because she couldn’t bear the thought of putting any more financial burdens on her father.  She kept on working here at Bowie State, even while juggling a full course load.  And today, she is graduating with a perfect 4.0 GPA.  (Applause.)  Yes.  God is very good.
It is that kind of unwavering determination -- that relentless focus on getting an education in the face of obstacles -- that’s what we need to reclaim, as a community and as a nation.  That was the idea at the very heart of the founding of this school.
It’s even in the words of your school song:  “Oh Bowie State, dear Bowie State, may you forever be the flame of faith, the torch of truth to guide the steps of youth.”  And that’s not just a lyric -- it is a call to action.  Many of you will answer that call by carrying on the proud Bowie State tradition of serving as teachers, devoting your careers to guiding the steps of the next generation.
But for those of you who aren’t going into education, you’re not off the hook.  Oh, no.  Oh, no.  No matter what career you pursue, every single one of you has a role to play as educators for our young people.  So if you have friends or cousins or siblings who are not taking their education seriously, shake them up.  Go talk some sense into them.  Get them back on track.  (Applause.)
If the school in your neighborhood isn’t any good, don't just accept it.  Get in there, fix it.  Talk to the parents.  Talk to the teachers.  Get business and community leaders involved as well, because we all have a stake in building schools worthy of our children’s promise.
And when it comes to your own kids, if you don't like what they're watching on TV, turn it off.  (Applause.)  If you don't like the video games they're playing, take them away.  (Applause.)  Take a stand against the media that elevates today’s celebrity gossip instead of the serious issues of our time.  Take a stand against the culture that glorifies instant gratification instead of hard work and lasting success.
And as my husband has said often, please stand up and reject the slander that says a black child with a book is trying to act white.  Reject that.  (Applause.)
In short, be an example of excellence for the next generation and do everything you can to help them understand the power and purpose of a good education.  See, that's what my own parents did for me and my brother.
See, my parents didn't go to college, but they were determined to give us that opportunity.  My dad was a pump operator at the city water plant, diagnosed with MS in his early thirties.  And every morning I watched him struggle to get out of bed and inch his way to his walker, and painstakingly button his uniform, but never once did I hear him complain.  Not once.  He just kept getting up, day after day, year after year, to do whatever he could to give our family a better shot at life.
So when it came time for my brother and I to go to college, most of our tuition came from student loans and grants.  But my dad still had to pay a small portion of that tuition each semester, and he was always determined to pay his share right on time -- even taking out loans when he fell short, because he couldn’t bear the thought of us missing a registration deadline because his check was late.
And there is not a day that goes by when I don't think about the sacrifices that my mom and dad made for me.  There is not a day that goes by when I don't think about living up to the example they set, and how I must do everything in my power to make them proud of the daughter they raised.  (Applause.)
And today, I am thinking about all the mothers and fathers just like my parents, all the folks who dug into their pockets for that last dime, the folks who built those schools brick by brick, who faced down angry mobs just to reach those schoolhouse doors.  I am thinking about all the folks who worked that extra shift and took that extra job, and toiled and bled and prayed so that we could have something better.  (Applause.)
The folks who, as the poet Alice Walker once wrote, “Knew what we must know without knowing a page of it themselves.”  Their sacrifice is your legacy.  Do you hear me?  And now it is up to all of you to carry that legacy forward, to be that flame of fate, that torch of truth to guide our young people toward a better future for themselves and for this country.
And if you do that, and I know that you will, if you uphold that obligation, then I am confident we will build an even better future for the next generation of graduates from this fine school and for all of the children in this country because our lives depend on it.
I wish you Godspeed, good luck.  I love you all.  Do good things.  God bless.  (Applause.)