Jackson on a Prayer

The road from Birmingham to Jackson takes a southerly curve and as sure as the sun is going to rise tomorrow the heat was coming. Mrs. Larence was at the tourist office when some sassy kid enters and burps as loud as he could. The father looked at us and said, “I didn’t do it.” The kid sheepishly apologized and then just out of ear shoot the dad says, “Some folks are just……” I holler after them that manners were free. This continues for some time, people enter act rudely, don’t bother to register, ask impossible questions, huff and puff and these two lovely ladies didn't bat an eye.

“Here is a hotel in Jackson in this brochure and it has a coupon too, said, Mrs. Larence." This is news to me, not being up on bargains, I praised her. She calls and makes a reservation and tells me how much further it is, more Governor chats than a women can handle. Just as I am leaving I ask Miss Larence if she ever become disappointed with the people.

“They aren’t my kids, I wasn’t there when they were born or brought up. You can’t let all these people upset you.” There is a relinquish tone in her voice.

The streets are bare on this Saturday morning. A lone police officer seems at odds when I ask him if it is safe to walk around.

“Sure I’ll be here at the state capital all day, you want me to escort you somewhere lady, you call if you need help.”

“I would like to walk to several monuments is it safe, it seems rather desolate.”

“I guess so, never had anyone ask me that before, everyone drives.”

I got in my car and drove to each building, walking the perimeter and then driving another 3-5 blocks and doing the same thing until the first museum opened up.

STAND UP – was the exhibit and it was so fitting. I spoke to Louise a glorious large black women who had a smile to melt the hardest souls. “This exhibit gets into detail about the Freedom Writers, it is difficult, let me know if you have any questions and you can take a seat here if you need a breather."

On May 4, 1961, a group of 13 African-American and white civil rights activists launched the Freedom Rides, a series of bus trips through the American South to protest segregation in interstate bus terminals. The Freedom Riders, who were recruited by the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE), a U.S. civil rights group, departed from Washington, D.C., and attempted to integrate facilities at bus terminals along the way into the Deep South. African-American Freedom Riders tried to use “whites-only” restrooms and lunch counters. The group encountered tremendous violence from white protestors along the route, but also drew international attention to their cause. Over the next few months, several hundred Freedom Riders engaged in similar actions. On September 1961, the Interstate Commerce Commission issued regulations prohibiting segregation in bus and train stations nationwide.  http://www.history.com/topics/black-history/freedom-rides.

The exhibit moved further into the lives of Michael Schwerner, Andrew Goodman, and James Chaney all killed by a KKK lynch mob near Meridian, Mississippi. The three young civil rights workers were working to register black voters in Mississippi, thus inspiring the ire of the local Klan. The deaths of Schwerner and Goodman, white Northerners and members of the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE), caused a national outrage.

During most hearings of the Freedom Riders, the judge turned and looked at the wall rather than listen to their defense, just as had been the case when sit-in participants were arrested for protesting segregated lunch counters in Tennessee. He sentenced the riders to 30 days in jail. Attorneys from the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) a civil rights organization, appealed the convictions all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court, which reversed them.

Martin Luther King had come to Mississippi to preaching at the same time to 1000 congregates while a mob of 300 angry whites showed up outside the church and beat them up. King summoned Kennedy to bring in the federal troops and they did temporarily. But the governor and city major within days said they could handle the crowds and placed them own men on guard. The police never showed up at any of the train stations, and bus depots when the Freedom Riders arrived leaving them to be beaten up with bats, lead pipes and wild dogs while the police stated it was Mother’s Day or they were ill informed as to where the group was going to be. Kennedy wasn't responding as his mission was focused on the Russians. It wasn't till the incident in Birmingham that the federal guards were brought in to protect them.

I left this exhibit completely demoralized. Why couldn’t the south see that if they integrated the Blacks, Hispanics, and Native American’s they could have been a role model for the nation? Their state could have demonstrated that by treating all equally they were creating a model society lifting the spirits of all those that reside, providing opportunity, creativity, ingenuity and growth of the mind, soul, and body.

What struck me was the written documentation of speeches from the day by city officials, police, city majors, governors and senators. Segregation must be…. It is what keeps our society in check. They (being the Blacks) need their own schools, hospitals, restaurants, water fountains, cinemas, shops, and churches. There is no room for desegregation, they like it and so do we. Hundreds of recorded documents from judges claiming that no Black would ever receive a fair trial, better they go to N.Y. instead of living here. I often wondered if the Blacks had all left who the southern folks would blame for their ignorance.

It is no different today. Blacks attend public school and white attend Christian or private schools.  Restaurants house either or, some do both, shops allow both but there is a distinct security and tonal disposition when I walked into a dress shop with a Black woman. The church I attended was all Black, not a white soul to be seen, they welcomed me with open arms. When I asked if things are better, everyone will say yes, if you dig a little deeper, most if being honest will say that the will to fight is gone on both sides. Status quo has become accepted. The last voice I heard as I drove away was the present governor speaking about how he had provided such great education for the Blacks in THEIR schools. The word “ours” is generations away.

Louise was generous enough to share her experiences after I had completed my tour. We sat away from other folks and she began to tell me her story. Born in a little town outside of Jackson, her grandfather was a slave and worked for white folks in their home. Her father wanted better for his family and moved into Jackson. Times were tough in the 1960’s she said. Racism was rampant and her parents were strict. “No talking to any white folks, they used to tell us. Look down when you’re walking down the street, and better yet never be on the same street as them." Louise had an older sister who fancied one of the white boys, she was almost tarred and feathered by her own family when they found out. “It was bound to happen she said, but why my family. Everyone knew. My dad put an end to that real fast. My sister was sent off to live with a relative for years.”

“What to you seems odd, became normal for us. There was always a heightened awareness that you don't have to live with in Canada but you got used to it for the most part. I think Jews could understand, always looking for the German Nazi’s over their shoulder, never being home. We too were looking to see if we had done something wrong. Our parents had no tolerance, it was hard enough for them to get an education and there wasn’t any they weren't allowing us to get one. There were many lynching that my parents kept from us. I don’t know why the Blacks didn’t start killing some of them, it might have balanced things out, but we never did. We didn’t have guns, she says as she laughs, I guess that was the issue, but we could have got them, there was enough white that sympathized with us.”

“Now,” she said. I think most Blacks like to trick themselves into thinking things are okay, better, and they are, but we still have a long way to go. I have a University degree, and no offense but this is the only job I’ve been able to get. Jackson isn’t exactly the metropolitan center and even as the capital it’s hard to find good work.

“Do you ever want to leave and find work elsewhere in the country?”

“Naw, my family is here, and this is my home.”

“May I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure.”

“Does working here ever make you boiling mad?”

“I’ve had so foreigners that don’t get it, they can’t believe it happened, they just can’t wrap their heads around it. Then I mention WWII and they begin to comprehend, but the time period really throws them for a loop, 400 years, not 5 or 9 or even 15 years. It’s a long time to oppress a people.”

I thanked Louise for her candidness and walked into the late morning sun of 80 degrees, cold, despondent and empty.