Five years...I was just short of my tenth birtday.. MOw I am nearly sixty and we have Trump Putin and the Theresa May...........
Thank you very kindly, my friends. As I listened to Ralph Abernathy and
his eloquent and generous introduction and then thought about myself, I
wondered who he was talking about. It's always good to have your closest
friend and associate to say something good about you. And Ralph
Abernathy is the best friend that I have in the world. I'm delighted to
see each of you here tonight in spite of a storm warning. You reveal
that you are determined to go on anyhow.
Something is happening in Memphis; something is happening in our world.
And you know, if I were standing at the beginning of time, with the
possibility of taking a kind of general and panoramic view of the whole
of human history up to now, and the Almighty said to me, "Martin Luther
King, which age would you like to live in?" I would take my mental
flight by Egypt and I would watch God's children in their magnificent
trek from the dark dungeons of Egypt through, or rather across the Red
Sea, through the wilderness on toward the promised land. And in spite of
its magnificence, I wouldn't stop there.
I would move on by Greece and take my mind to Mount Olympus. And I would
see Plato, Aristotle, Socrates, Euripides and Aristophanes assembled
around the Parthenon. And I would watch them around the Parthenon as
they discussed the great and eternal issues of reality. But I wouldn't
stop there.
I would go on, even to the great heyday of the Roman Empire. And I would
see developments around there, through various emperors and leaders.
But I wouldn't stop there.
I would even come up to the day of the Renaissance, and get a quick
picture of all that the Renaissance did for the cultural and aesthetic
life of man. But I wouldn't stop there.
I would even go by the way that the man for whom I am named had his
habitat. And I would watch Martin Luther as he tacked his ninety-five
theses on the door at the church of Wittenberg. But I wouldn't stop
there.
I would come on up even to 1863, and watch a vacillating President by
the name of Abraham Lincoln finally come to the conclusion that he had
to sign the Emancipation Proclamation. But I wouldn't stop there.
I would even come up to the early thirties, and see a man grappling with
the problems of the bankruptcy of his nation. And come with an eloquent
cry that we have nothing to fear but "fear itself." But I wouldn't stop
there.
Strangely enough, I would turn to the Almighty, and say, "If you allow
me to live just a few years in the second half of the 20th century, I
will be happy."
Now that's a strange statement to make, because the world is all messed
up. The nation is sick. Trouble is in the land; confusion all around.
That's a strange statement. But I know, somehow, that only when it is
dark enough can you see the stars. And I see God working in this period
of the twentieth century in a way that men, in some strange way, are
responding.
Something is happening in our world. The masses of people are rising up.
And wherever they are assembled today, whether they are in
Johannesburg, South Africa; Nairobi, Kenya; Accra, Ghana; New York City;
Atlanta, Georgia; Jackson, Mississippi; or Memphis, Tennessee -- the
cry is always the same: "We want to be free."
And another reason that I'm happy to live in this period is that we have
been forced to a point where we are going to have to grapple with the
problems that men have been trying to grapple with through history, but
the demands didn't force them to do it. Survival demands that we grapple
with them. Men, for years now, have been talking about war and peace.
But now, no longer can they just talk about it. It is no longer a choice
between violence and nonviolence in this world; it's nonviolence or
nonexistence. That is where we are today.
And also in the human rights revolution, if something isn't done, and
done in a hurry, to bring the colored peoples of the world out of their
long years of poverty, their long years of hurt and neglect, the whole
world is doomed. Now, I'm just happy that God has allowed me to live in
this period to see what is unfolding. And I'm happy that He's allowed me
to be in Memphis.
I can remember -- I can remember when Negroes were just going around as
Ralph has said, so often, scratching where they didn't itch, and
laughing when they were not tickled. But that day is all over. We mean
business now, and we are determined to gain our rightful place in God's
world.
And that's all this whole thing is about. We aren't engaged in any
negative protest and in any negative arguments with anybody. We are
saying that we are determined to be men. We are determined to be people.
We are saying -- We are saying that we are God's children. And that we
are God's children, we don't have to live like we are forced to live.
Now, what does all of this mean in this great period of history? It
means that we've got to stay together. We've got to stay together and
maintain unity. You know, whenever Pharaoh wanted to prolong the period
of slavery in Egypt, he had a favorite, favorite formula for doing it.
What was that? He kept the slaves fighting among themselves. But
whenever the slaves get together, something happens in Pharaoh's court,
and he cannot hold the slaves in slavery. When the slaves get together,
that's the beginning of getting out of slavery. Now let us maintain
unity.
Secondly, let us keep the issues where they are. The issue is injustice.
The issue is the refusal of Memphis to be fair and honest in its
dealings with its public servants, who happen to be sanitation workers.
Now, we've got to keep attention on that. That's always the problem with
a little violence. You know what happened the other day, and the press
dealt only with the window-breaking. I read the articles. They very
seldom got around to mentioning the fact that one thousand, three
hundred sanitation workers are on strike, and that Memphis is not being
fair to them, and that Mayor Loeb is in dire need of a doctor. They
didn't get around to that.
Now we're going to march again, and we've got to march again, in order
to put the issue where it is supposed to be -- and force everybody to
see that there are thirteen hundred of God's children here suffering,
sometimes going hungry, going through dark and dreary nights wondering
how this thing is going to come out. That's the issue. And we've got to
say to the nation: We know how it's coming out. For when people get
caught up with that which is right and they are willing to sacrifice for
it, there is no stopping point short of victory.
We aren't going to let any mace stop us. We are masters in our
nonviolent movement in disarming police forces; they don't know what to
do. I've seen them so often. I remember in Birmingham, Alabama, when we
were in that majestic struggle there, we would move out of the 16th
Street Baptist Church day after day; by the hundreds we would move out.
And Bull Connor would tell them to send the dogs forth, and they did
come; but we just went before the dogs singing, "Ain't gonna let nobody
turn me around."
Bull Connor next would say, "Turn the fire hoses on." And as I said to
you the other night, Bull Connor didn't know history. He knew a kind of
physics that somehow didn't relate to the transphysics that we knew
about. And that was the fact that there was a certain kind of fire that
no water could put out. And we went before the fire hoses; we had known
water. If we were Baptist or some other denominations, we had been
immersed. If we were Methodist, and some others, we had been sprinkled,
but we knew water. That couldn't stop us.
And we just went on before the dogs and we would look at them; and we'd
go on before the water hoses and we would look at it, and we'd just go
on singing "Over my head I see freedom in the air." And then we would be
thrown in the paddy wagons, and sometimes we were stacked in there like
sardines in a can. And they would throw us in, and old Bull would say,
"Take 'em off," and they did; and we would just go in the paddy wagon
singing, "We Shall Overcome."
And every now and then we'd get in jail, and we'd see the jailers
looking through the windows being moved by our prayers, and being moved
by our words and our songs. And there was a power there which Bull
Connor couldn't adjust to; and so we ended up transforming Bull into a
steer, and we won our struggle in Birmingham. Now we've got to go on in
Memphis just like that. I call upon you to be with us when we go out
Monday.
Now about injunctions: We have an injunction and we're going into court
tomorrow morning to fight this illegal, unconstitutional injunction. All
we say to America is, "Be true to what you said on paper." If I lived
in China or even Russia, or any totalitarian country, maybe I could
understand some of these illegal injunctions. Maybe I could understand
the denial of certain basic First Amendment privileges, because they
hadn't committed themselves to that over there.
But somewhere I read of the freedom of assembly. Somewhere I read of the freedom of speech.
Somewhere I read of the freedom of press. Somewhere I read that the
greatness of America is the right to protest for right. And so just as I
say, we aren't going to let dogs or water hoses turn us around, we
aren't going to let any injunction turn us around. We are going on.
We need all of you. And you know what's beautiful to me is to see all of
these ministers of the Gospel. It's a marvelous picture. Who is it that
is supposed to articulate the longings and aspirations of the people
more than the preacher? Somehow the preacher must have a kind of fire
shut up in his bones. And whenever injustice is around he tell it.
Somehow the preacher must be an Amos, and saith, "When God speaks who
can but prophesy?" Again with Amos, "Let justice roll down like waters
and righteousness like a mighty stream." Somehow the preacher must say
with Jesus, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed
me," and he's anointed me to deal with the problems of the poor."
And I want to commend the preachers, under the leadership of these noble
men: James Lawson, one who has been in this struggle for many years;
he's been to jail for struggling; he's been kicked out of Vanderbilt
University for this struggle, but he's still going on, fighting for the
rights of his people. Reverend Ralph Jackson, Billy Kiles; I could just
go right on down the list, but time will not permit.
But I want to thank all of them. And I want you to thank them, because
so often, preachers aren't concerned about anything but themselves. And
I'm always happy to see a relevant ministry.
It's all right to talk about "long white robes over yonder," in all of
its symbolism. But ultimately people want some suits and dresses and
shoes to wear down here! It's all right to talk about "streets flowing
with milk and honey," but God has commanded us to be concerned about the
slums down here, and his children who can't eat three square meals a
day. It's all right to talk about the new Jerusalem, but one day, God's
preacher must talk about the new New York, the new Atlanta, the new
Philadelphia, the new Los Angeles, the new Memphis, Tennessee. This is
what we have to do.
Now the other thing we'll have to do is this: Always anchor our external
direct action with the power of economic withdrawal. Now, we are poor
people. Individually, we are poor when you compare us with white society
in America. We are poor. Never stop and forget that collectively --
that means all of us together -- collectively we are richer than all the
nations in the world, with the exception of nine. Did you ever think
about that?
After you leave the United States, Soviet Russia, Great Britain, West
Germany, France, and I could name the others, the American Negro
collectively is richer than most nations of the world. We have an annual
income of more than thirty billion dollars a year, which is more than
all of the exports of the United States, and more than the national
budget of Canada. Did you know that? That's power right there, if we
know how to pool it.
We don't have to argue with anybody. We don't have to curse and go
around acting bad with our words. We don't need any bricks and bottles.
We don't need any Molotov cocktails. We just need to go around to these
stores, and to these massive industries in our country, and say, "God
sent us by here, to say to you that you're not treating his children
right. And we've come by here to ask you to make the first item on your
agenda fair treatment, where God's children are concerned.
Now, if you are not prepared to do that, we do have an agenda that we
must follow. And our agenda calls for withdrawing economic support from
you."
And so, as a result of this, we are asking you tonight, to go out and
tell your neighbors not to buy Coca-Cola in Memphis. Go by and tell them
not to buy Sealtest milk. Tell them not to buy -- what is the other
bread? -- Wonder Bread. And what is the other bread company, Jesse? Tell
them not to buy Hart's bread. As Jesse Jackson has said, up to now,
only the garbage men have been feeling pain; now we must kind of
redistribute the pain.
We are choosing these companies because they haven't been fair in their
hiring policies; and we are choosing them because they can begin the
process of saying they are going to support the needs and the rights of
these men who are on strike. And then they can move on town -- downtown
and tell Mayor Loeb to do what is right.
But not only that, we've got to strengthen black institutions. I call
upon you to take your money out of the banks downtown and deposit your
money in Tri-State Bank. We want a "bank-in" movement in Memphis. Go by
the savings and loan association. I'm not asking you something that we
don't do ourselves at SCLC. Judge Hooks and others will tell you that we
have an account here in the savings and loan association from the
Southern Christian Leadership Conference.
We are telling you to follow what we are doing. Put your money there.
You have six or seven black insurance companies here in the city of
Memphis. Take out your insurance there. We want to have an
"insurance-in."
Now these are some practical things that we can do. We begin the process
of building a greater economic base. And at the same time, we are
putting pressure where it really hurts. I ask you to follow through
here.
Now, let me say as I move to my conclusion that we've got to give ourselves to this struggle until the end. Nothing would be more tragic than to stop at this point in Memphis.
We've got to see it through. And when we have our march, you need to be
there. If it means leaving work, if it means leaving school -- be there.
Be concerned about your brother. You may not be on strike. But either
we go up together, or we go down together.
Let us develop a kind of dangerous unselfishness. One day a man came to
Jesus, and he wanted to raise some questions about some vital matters of
life. At points he wanted to trick Jesus, and show him that he knew a
little more than Jesus knew and throw him off base....
Now that question could have easily ended up in a philosophical and
theological debate. But Jesus immediately pulled that question from
mid-air, and placed it on a dangerous curve between Jerusalem and
Jericho. And he talked about a certain man, who fell among thieves. You
remember that a Levite and a priest passed by on the other side.
They didn't stop to help him. And finally a man of another race came by.
He got down from his beast, decided not to be compassionate by proxy.
But he got down with him, administered first aid, and helped the man in
need. Jesus ended up saying, this was the good man, this was the great
man, because he had the capacity to project the "I" into the "thou," and
to be concerned about his brother.
Now you know, we use our imagination a great deal to try to determine
why the priest and the Levite didn't stop. At times we say they were
busy going to a church meeting, an ecclesiastical gathering, and they
had to get on down to Jerusalem so they wouldn't be late for their
meeting. At other times we would speculate that there was a religious
law that "One who was engaged in religious ceremonials was not to touch a
human body twenty-four hours before the ceremony." And every now and
then we begin to wonder whether maybe they were not going down to
Jerusalem -- or down to Jericho, rather to organize a "Jericho Road
Improvement Association."
That's a possibility. Maybe they felt that it was better to deal with
the problem from the causal root, rather than to get bogged down with an
individual effect.
But I'm going to tell you what my imagination tells me. It's possible
that those men were afraid. You see, the Jericho road is a dangerous
road. I remember when Mrs. King and I were first in Jerusalem. We rented
a car and drove from Jerusalem down to Jericho. And as soon as we got
on that road, I said to my wife, "I can see why Jesus used this as the
setting for his parable." It's a winding, meandering road. It's really
conducive for ambushing. You start out in Jerusalem, which is about 1200
miles -- or rather 1200 feet above sea level. And by the time you get
down to Jericho, fifteen or twenty minutes later, you're about 2200 feet
below sea level. That's a dangerous road. In the days of Jesus it came
to be known as the "Bloody Pass."
And you know, it's possible that the priest and the Levite looked over
that man on the ground and wondered if the robbers were still around. Or
it's possible that they felt that the man on the ground was merely
faking. And he was acting like he had been robbed and hurt, in order to
seize them over there, lure them there for quick and easy seizure. And
so the first question that the priest asked -- the first question that
the Levite asked was, "If I stop to help this man, what will happen to
me?" But then the Good Samaritan came by. And he reversed the question:
"If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?"
That's the question before you tonight. Not, "If I stop to help the
sanitation workers, what will happen to my job. Not, "If I stop to help
the sanitation workers what will happen to all of the hours that I
usually spend in my office every day and every week as a pastor?" The
question is not, "If I stop to help this man in need, what will happen
to me?" The question is, "If I do not stop to help the sanitation
workers, what will happen to them?" That's the question.
Let us rise up tonight with a greater readiness. Let us stand with a
greater determination. And let us move on in these powerful days, these
days of challenge to make America what it ought to be. We have an
opportunity to make America a better nation. And I want to thank God,
once more, for allowing me to be here with you.
You know, several years ago, I was in New York City autographing the
first book that
I had written. And while sitting there autographing
books, a demented black woman came up.
The only question I heard from her was, "Are you Martin Luther King?"
And I was looking down writing, and I said, "Yes." And the next minute I
felt something beating on my chest. Before I knew it I had been stabbed
by this demented woman. I was rushed to Harlem Hospital. It was a dark
Saturday afternoon. And that blade had gone through, and the X-rays
revealed that the tip of the blade was on the edge of my aorta, the main
artery. And once that's punctured, your drowned in your own blood --
that's the end of you.
It came out in the New York Times the next morning, that if I had merely
sneezed, I would have died. Well, about four days later, they allowed
me, after the operation, after my chest had been opened, and the blade
had been taken out, to move around in the wheel chair in the hospital.
They allowed me to read some of the mail that came in, and from all over
the states and the world, kind letters came in. I read a few, but one
of them I will never forget. I had received one from the President and
the Vice-President. I've forgotten what those telegrams said. I'd
received a visit and a letter from the Governor of New York, but I've
forgotten what that letter said. But there was another letter that came
from a little girl, a young girl who was a student at the White Plains
High School. And I looked at that letter, and I'll never forget it. It
said simply,
"Dear Dr. King,
I am a ninth-grade student at the White Plains High School."
And she said,
"While it should not matter, I would like to mention that I'm a white
girl. I read in the paper of your misfortune, and of your suffering. And
I read that if you had sneezed, you would have died. And I'm simply
writing you to say that I'm so happy that you didn't sneeze."
And I want to say tonight -- I want to say tonight that I too am happy
that I didn't sneeze. Because if I had sneezed, I wouldn't have been
around here in 1960, when students all over the South started sitting-in
at lunch counters. And I knew that as they were sitting in, they were
really standing up for the best in the American dream, and taking the
whole nation back to those great wells of democracy which were dug deep
by the Founding Fathers in the Declaration of Independence and the
Constitution.
If I had sneezed, I wouldn't have been around here in 1961, when we
decided to take a ride for freedom and ended segregation in inter-state
travel.
If I had sneezed, I wouldn't have been around here in 1962, when Negroes
in Albany, Georgia, decided to straighten their backs up. And whenever
men and women straighten their backs up, they are going somewhere,
because a man can't ride your back unless it is bent.
If I had sneezed -- If I had sneezed I wouldn't have been here in 1963,
when the black people of Birmingham, Alabama, aroused the conscience of
this nation, and brought into being the Civil Rights Bill.
If I had sneezed, I wouldn't have had a chance later that year, in August, to try to tell America about a dream that I had had.
If I had sneezed, I wouldn't have been down in Selma, Alabama, to see the great Movement there.
If I had sneezed, I wouldn't have been in Memphis to see a community rally around those brothers and sisters who are suffering.
I'm so happy that I didn't sneeze.
And they were telling me --. Now, it doesn't matter, now. It really
doesn't matter what happens now. I left Atlanta this morning, and as we
got started on the plane, there were six of us.
The pilot said over the public address system, "We are sorry for the
delay, but we have Dr. Martin Luther King on the plane. And to be sure
that all of the bags were checked, and to be sure that nothing would be
wrong with on the plane, we had to check out everything carefully. And
we've had the plane protected and guarded all night."
And then I got into Memphis. And some began to say the threats, or talk
about the threats that were out. What would happen to me from some of
our sick white brothers?
Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days
ahead. But it really doesn't matter with me now, because I've been to
the mountaintop.
And I don't mind.
Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place.
But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And
He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And
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!
And so I'm happy, tonight.
I'm not worried about anything.
I'm not fearing any man.
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.
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