BRIEF HISTORY OF MARTIN LUTHER KING JR
Luther King, Jr., (January 15, 1929-April 4, 1968)
was born as Michael Luther King, Jr., but
later had his name changed to Martin. His grandfather began the family’s long
tenure as pastors of the Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta, serving from 1914
to 1931; his father has served from then until the present, and from 1960 until
his death Martin Luther acted as co-pastor.
Martin Luther attended segregated public schools in
Georgia, graduating from high school at the age of fifteen; he received the B.
A. degree in 1948 from Morehouse College, a distinguished Negro institution of
Atlanta from which both his father and grandfather had graduated. After three
years of theological study at Crozer Theological Seminary in Pennsylvania where
he was elected president of a predominantly white senior class, he was awarded
the B.D. in 1951.
With a fellowship won at Crozer, he enrolled in
graduate studies at Boston University, completing his residence for the
doctorate in 1953 and receiving the degree in 1955. In Boston he met and
married Coretta Scott, a young woman of uncommon intellectual and artistic
attainments. Two sons and two daughters were born into the family.
In 1957 he was elected president of the Southern
Christian Leadership Conference, an organization formed to provide new
leadership for the now burgeoning civil rights movement. The ideals for this
organization he took from Christianity; its operational techniques from Gandhi.
In the eleven-year period between 1957 and 1968, King traveled over six million
miles and spoke over twenty-five hundred times, appearing wherever there was
injustice, protest, and action; and meanwhile he wrote five books as well as
numerous articles.
In these years, he led a massive protest in
Birmingham, Alabama, that caught the attention of the entire world, providing
what he called a coalition of conscience. and inspiring his “Letter from a
Birmingham Jail”, a manifesto of the Negro revolution; he planned the drives in
Alabama for the registration of Negroes as voters; he directed the peaceful
march on Washington, D.C., of 250,000 people to whom he delivered his address,
“l Have a Dream”, he conferred with President John F. Kennedy and campaigned
for President Lyndon B. Johnson; he was arrested upwards of twenty times and
assaulted at least four times; he was awarded five honorary degrees; was named
Man of the Year by Time magazine in 1963; and became not only the symbolic
leader of American blacks but also a world figure.
On the evening of April 4, 1968, Martin Luther King
was assassinated. He was fatally shot while standing on the balcony of a motel
in Memphis, where King had traveled to support a sanitation workers’ strike. In
the wake of his death, a wave of riots swept major cities across the country,
while President Johnson declared a national day of mourning.
James Earl Ray, an escaped convict and known racist,
pleaded guilty to the murder and was sentenced to 99 years in prison. He later
recanted his confession and gained some unlikely advocates, including members
of the King family, before his death in 1998.
After years of campaigning by activists, members of
Congress and Coretta Scott King, among others, in 1983 President Ronald Reagan
signed a bill creating a U.S. federal holiday in honor of King.
Observed on the third Monday of January, Martin
Luther King Day was first celebrated in 1986.
MARTIN LUTHER KING'S I HAVE A DREAM SPEECH AUGUST
28,1963
I am happy
to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest
demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose
symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This
momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro
slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a
joyous daybreak to end the long night of captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not
free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by
the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years
later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast
ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still
languished in the corners of American society and finds himself in exile in his
own land. So we have come here today to dramatize an shameful condition.
In a sense we've come to our nation's Capital to
cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words
of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a
promissory note to which every American was to fall heir.
This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men
as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life,
liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
It is obvious today that America has defaulted on
this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of
honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad
check; a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."
But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is
bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great
vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check- a
check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of
justice.
We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind
America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury
of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism.
Now is the time to make real the promises of
democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of
segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our
nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood.
Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the
urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate
discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and
equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope
that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a
rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be
neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his
citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the
foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people
who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the
process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds.
Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of
bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane
of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate
into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of
meeting physical force with soul force.
The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the
Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of
our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to
realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to
realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk
alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we
shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the
devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?"
We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is
the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality.
We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies,
heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the
highways and the hotels of the cities.
We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic
mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one.
We can never be satisfied as long as our chlidren
are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating
"for whites only."
We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in
Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for
which to vote.
No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be
satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty
stream.
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here
out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow
jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left
you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police
brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work
with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.
Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back
to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the
slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation
can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.
I say to you today, my friends, so even though we
face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a
dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up
and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be
self-evident; that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of
Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be
able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of
Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the
heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one
day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin
but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day down in Alabama, with
its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words
of interposition and nullification, that one day right down in Alabama little
black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys
and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be
exhalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be
made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the
Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.
This is our hope. This is the faith that I will go
back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the
mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to
transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of
brotherhood.
With this faith we will be able to work together, to
pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for
freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
This will be the day when all of God's children will
be able to sing with new meaning, "My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of
liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my father’s died, land of the Pilgrims'
pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."
And if America is to be a great nation, this must
become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.
Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from
the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of
Colorado. Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California. But not
only that; let freedom ring from the Stone Mountain of Georgia. Let freedom
ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of
Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, and when we allow freedom
ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state
and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's
children, black men and white men, Jews and gentiles, Protestants and
Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro
spiritual, "Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at
last!"
Comments