Fifty years after the assassination of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., thousands of people began to gather on the downtown streets of this Southern city to commemorate the life of the slain civil rights leader and rekindle his struggle for economic and social justice.
Many who rallied outside the American Federation of State, County and Municipal Employees Local Union 1733 headquarters on Beale Street early Wednesday morning were sanitation workers whose 1968 strike for better working conditions inspired King to come to Memphis. They were joined by civil rights activists, pastors and union workers from Atlanta to Los Angeles.
Joseph Booker, 60, who has worked for the sanitation department for just six months, stood in the crowd holding a sign saying, “We Remember.” He was just 10 when King was shot and heard the news on the television. “It was a sad day in this city,” he said.
For Cleophus Smith, a 75-year-old who was a sanitation worker for 50 years, it was important to pay tribute to King by marching a mile and a half in his honor. He scoffed at those who urged him, as an elderly man, to ride a shuttle bus.
“I just want them to know that I’m still in the struggle,” he said ahead of the march.
For Smith and other workers, the Wednesday rally and march is a way to repay their debt to King.
“If it weren’t for King, we’d still be on strike,” said Elmore Nickleberry, at 86 the city’s longest-serving employee. After hauling garbage downtown for more than 60 years, he still drives a truck for the sanitation department.
More than 1,300 Memphis sanitation workers went on strike in February 1968 after two garbage collectors, Echol Cole and Robert Walker, were crushed to death by a truck’s malfunctioning compactor. Frustrated by years of shoddy treatment, black workers demanded better pay and benefits and safer working conditions.
King, who had just launched the Poor People’s Campaign, tried to lead a peaceful march in Memphis on March 28, but it turned violent as a small group of protesters broke windows. In response, police wielded mace and tear gas.
When King returned for another march in support of the sanitation workers, he was struck by a single bullet as he stood on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel.
The bullet, fired by segregationist James Earl Ray, hit him in his lower right jaw, re-entered his neck and fractured his spine. Less than an hour later he was pronounced dead.
Organizers expect hundreds of thousands to attend Wednesday’s events commemorating King’s assassination. After an 8 a.m. rally, which will be attended by Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.), the Rev. Jesse Jackson and the Rev. Al Sharpton, organizers plan to march to the Mason Temple Church of God in Christ, where King delivered his final speech — “I’ve Been To The Mountaintop” — the night before he was assassinated.
A wreath-laying ceremony will be held Wednesday afternoon on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel, which is now part of the National Civil Rights Museum.
At 6:01 p.m. — the exact moment when King was shot — a bronze church bell perched on a scaffold above the motel will toll 39 times — one for each year of King’s life.
Much as the news of King’s death spread around the world, bells will then ring out — at 6:03 p.m. in downtown Memphis, at 6:05 p.m. in Washington, at 6:07 p.m. in Vatican City.
Nickleberry credits King with many of the improvements in conditions for the sanitation workers.
Fifty years ago, sanitation trucks were not equipped to lift trash bins and residents did not leave garbage at the curb. Sanitation workers had to haul 50-gallon drums through residents’ yards. Trash juice and maggots would fall down their backs, covering their clothes and filling their shoes. When they finished their shifts, they did not have access to shower facilities.
“It was hard,” Nickleberry said. “We couldn’t ride the bus, we smelled so bad. But I had two kids and a wife, so I had to do it.”
Less than two weeks after King’s death, the Memphis City Council voted to recognize the union and pay higher wages, and the strike was over. Workers, he said, were eventually equipped with better trucks, uniforms, shoes, and raincoats.
“That man came to our town and tried to fight for us and help us,” Nickleberry said. “I feel real bad he had to die.”
The march and rally is part of a week of activities commemorating King across Memphis. On Tuesday evening, thousands packed the pews of Mason Temple, 50 years after King delivered his last speech from the pulpit.
“Like anybody, I would like to live a long life — longevity has its place,” King said that night. “But I’m not concerned about that now… I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land.”
Andrew Young, the civil rights leader and former Atlanta mayor who was on the balcony with King when the shot rang out, spoke of King’s enduring legacy.
“Africans say, ‘You ain’t dead ’til the people stop calling your name,” said. “That bullet only released his spirit and it released his spirit all over the world.”
Jarvie is a special correspondent.
