RICHARDSON: Love, justice, trust and hope
It's hard to describe the events of the week. Monday, El Trumpbo came to town. Some people asked me if I was going to see him, and I said "no." I make it a rule not to put myself in uncomfortable situations around people who might try to make me respond in a way that would cause me trouble. I still have a problem turning the other cheek. I'm working on it, but I would prefer to turn it after I've snatched the hand that slapped me from the joint it's attached to.
I know that's not a proper response. It made me think of a diminutive woman named Rosa, who on Dec. 1, 1955 — 60 years ago — was arrested in Montgomery, Alabama for not giving up her seat on the bus to a white customer. Her quiet act of dignity ignited the Montgomery Bus Boycott that lasted 381 days and launched the civil rights career of a little known Baptist preacher named Martin Luther King Jr.
Montgomery had been mistreating its black bus riders as standard operating procedure. They had to pay up front, exit the bus and then re-enter through the back door. Parks knew the bus driver, James Blake. Prior to that fateful Dec. 1 incident, he had ordered her to enter through the back and then drove off before she could board. Black riders had to give up their seats and stand if more white riders boarded the bus. They couldn't cross a fixed dividing line separating black from white.
After Parks' arrest, the Montgomery Improvement Association was formed and a boycott of the bus system was announced — not without controversy. Some of the black ministers in town didn't want to rock the boat, but their congregations were ready even if they weren't. King was relatively new to Montgomery and was chosen to lead the MIA, because he hadn't been tainted by either the black or white power structures of the city.
The demands were reasonable. They didn't want to give up their seats to whites. They wanted to be treated courteously, and they wanted the dividing line to disappear. They also wanted the system to hire black bus drivers. Reasonable was not in the city leaders' vocabulary, but now those leaders were in a pickle. Seventy-five percent of the riders were black. No riders, no money. So what did they do? They firebombed King's and Ralph Abernathy's homes along with four black churches. They threw King in jail, saying he conspired to interfere with a business.
Still, the boycott went on and on and ended in a complete victory. But was it? Not to the white terrorists of Montgomery. Blacks were attacked and shot, one was lynched, churches were burned. Bus service had to be halted because of snipers. Rosa Parks and her husband had to leave town due to death threats. By the early 1960s, Montgomery was more segregated than it was when Parks refused to give up her seat. Seemingly, the terrorists had won.
It was a short-lived victory. Segregation was quickly coming to an end. Are there still vestiges of that mentality out there? Certainly, that's why I wouldn't be caught dead at a Trump rally. He is an echo of past times — times I think of when someone spouts, "I want my country back." I've always wanted to ask, "Back from whom?"
Just when I start to get depressed about the events of the day, my spirits are lifted. I ran into Andrew Silver, Ron Lemon and Sam Oni on Thursday. They had just come from the dedication of the fountain in Tattnall Square Park. This is no simple fountain. It is a fountain, as they wrote in a media release, that's "a place that asks people to deepen their relationship to one another as neighbors in this city."
Years from now people will see the words: Love, Justice, Trust and Hope etched in stone and the 16 quotations from people, most of them local, who sought those four attributes in their lives and in others. Five are still living and continue to share their vibrant minds with the world.
The Friends of Tattnall Square Park are to be commended for being "mindful" and "intentional" in the process of creating "something unique to Macon."
As I walked away from the fountain Friday, I was reminded that what we do today is not meant for today but for tomorrow. Thank you Rosa and all the other known and unknown martyrs and those who believe in love, justice, trust and hope.
Charles E. Richardson is The Telegraph's editorial page editor. He can be reached at 478-744-4342 or via email at crichardson@macon.com. Tweet @crichard1020.
This story was originally published December 5, 2015 at 9:14 PM with the headline "RICHARDSON: Love, justice, trust and hope ."