Authors: Troy Jackson
The day after responding to the supposed settlement of the boycott, King told his congregation that “Christianity has never been content to wrap itself up in the garments of any particular society.” He urged his audience to take seriously Jesus’ call to go “into all the world and preach the gospel,” arguing that the one who most needed to hear about universal dimensions of the Gospel was “the white man,” noting “he is pagan in his conceptions.” As an example, King referred to those who murdered Emmett Till. He also sharply criticized white concern for foreign missions
while they continued to trample “over the Negro” in the United States. King’s proposed method for reaching out to southern whites included exploring “the root of the problem,” loving them, and sitting down and preaching to them. He concluded the sermon by calling his congregation to “be maladjusted.” In the wake of a manipulative attempt to end the boycott, King called for a vigilant movement to redeem the souls of southern whites. Less than two months into the boycott, King’s dream for the South was bigger than the end of segregation; he envisioned the creation of what he often called the beloved community.
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Even after the MIA vehemently debunked the spurious settlement announced by city officials, the rector of the Episcopal Church of the Ascension, Thomas Thrasher, hoped a compromise could still be reached. A board member of the ACHR who had served nine years in the city, Thrasher believed black leaders had not sought full integration because “Nigras here are used to operating within the framework of the state laws and that they feel more comfortable when they stay within the bounds of the law.” The real roadblock to a settlement was Crenshaw, the lawyer for the bus company, whom Thrasher called “rabidly anti-Nigra and a disturbed person.” While Thrasher hoped to find some middle ground, he also faced pressure from some in his congregation to remain silent on racial matters. Among those urging the rector to keep his moderate views quiet was Luther Ingalls, a parishioner in Thrasher’s church and the primary organizer of the White Citizens Council (WCC) in Montgomery.
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Boycott participant and WPC member Irene West was not interested in any brokered settlement dreamed up by Thrasher. Although she was a wealthy widow of dentist A. W. West Sr., she recognized the critical role played by the working people in the struggle. She had been involved in attempts to advance the quality of life for African Americans in Montgomery for decades, even hosting Ella Baker at her home during a trip by the NAACP branch director in the early 1940s. The bus company was financially dependent on laborers who rode the buses to work each day. These were “the ones who keep this movement going. The leaders could do nothing by themselves. They are only the voice of thousands of colored workers.” West believed a significant change had occurred in white-black relations since the
Brown
decision, as white clerks in the town’s stores began interacting with African American patrons with “a
steely glare in their eyes.” Emphasizing the economic power wielded by the black community, West claimed no compromise would happen and that the demands were only a first step. Next would be an all-out assault on “the unconstitutionality of the state statute. From this point we can wipe out state wide segregation on city bus lines.” Six weeks into the boycott, she believed the protest might “last another month or a year, but so long as it does, I’ll get up at 4:00 a.m. and help people get to work and everything else I can to make it a success. We have reached the point of no return.” King later applauded West’s exemplary commitment to the cause: “Every morning she drove her large green Cadillac to her assigned dispatch station, and for several hours in the morning and again in the afternoon one could see this distinguished and handsome gray-haired chauffeur driving people to work and home again.”
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In an MIA board meeting a few days later, King speculated the settlement announcement betrayed an attempt by the mayor to portray the African American community as divided. Debate in the meeting revealed there were very real differences within the MIA leadership. The majority argued that they should give up on their demand for black bus drivers, while a few felt that having bus drivers was the most important of the boycott objectives. Early on, several MIA leaders began to waiver on the demand for black bus drivers. While the executive board vowed to stand firm on their three conditions, King later admitted: “considering the possibility that there were no imminent vacancies and taking into account the existence of certain priorities due to union regulations, it was agreed that we would not demand the immediate hiring of Negro bus drivers, but would settle for the willingness of the bus company to take applications from Negroes and hire some as soon as vacancies occurred.” Their willingness to be flexible on this point reflects the presence of varying priorities on the part of the leaders of the MIA. This wavering also led many in the area to view this last demand as little more than a bargaining chip when negotiations began, as the ACHR director, Robert Hughes, believed: “I can’t say this publicly and this is of course confidential, but it seems to me that the demands for Negro drivers was tacked on for purposes of compromise—I think it was something the leaders added to use as a bargaining point and I think it will be dropped when they are ready to end the thing, whenever that is.”
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While MIA leaders tried to stay unified, the city commissioners announced a “get-tough policy” after their bogus settlement fell apart. A few weeks earlier, Commissioner Clyde Sellers had joined the Montgomery White Citizens Council, claiming “I’ll stand up and say I’m a white man.” The crowd roared as Sellers joined an organization that now numbered as many as twelve thousand people from the Montgomery area. Following the ill-fated compromise attempt, all three commissioners claimed they “felt betrayed,” and at a rally on January 24, Mayor Gayle and City Commissioner Parks joined Sellers as members of the White Citizens Council.
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Responding to the news that all the city commissioners were now members of the WCC, the ACHR chair, Reverend Raymond Whatley, declared that “the Mayor has declared war on the Nigras of Montgomery.” In an attempt to explain this overreaction by white authorities, Whatley added that “they see this as an opening wedge leading to mixing in the schools and in people’s homes.” In the wake of Sellers joining the WCC, Whatley had preached a sermon on Herod, noting the Roman leader ordered the deaths of innocent infants out of fear that this newborn King of the Jews would threaten his rule. Whatley claimed that some modern-day public officials were like Herods who were willing to join the WCC to preserve their reign of leadership. Soon after, Whatley got a note from the vestry board asking him to not mention blacks and segregation from the pulpit. He was later forced by his church board to resign from the ACHR, as both chair and member. Over the coming months Whatley decided to leave the firestorm at St. Marks to become the pastor at a small country church.
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Following this new “get-tough” policy by Mayor Gayle, the number of threats made against boycott participants grew significantly. King continued to be one of the primary recipients of hate-filled letters and phone calls. One night late in January, the phone rang just as King was heading to bed. A threatening voice told King that by “next week, you’ll be sorry you ever came to Montgomery.” At that moment, the torrent of threats and the stresses of leadership overwhelmed King. Unable to sleep, he made some coffee and deliberated how to gracefully remove himself from the leadership of the MIA. Exhausted and overwhelmed, King decided to practice what he preached by bringing his situation to God. He later
remembered the tenor of his prayer: “I am here taking a stand for what I believe is right. But now I am afraid. The people are looking to me for leadership, and if I stand before them without strength and courage, they too will falter. I am at the end of my powers. I have nothing left. I’ve come to the point where I can’t face it alone.” In a later recounting, King remembered: “At that moment I experienced the presence of the Divine as I never had experienced Him before. It seemed as though I could hear the quiet assurance of an inner voice saying: ‘Stand up for righteousness, stand up for truth; and God will be at your side forever.’ Almost at once my fears began to go. My uncertainty disappeared. I was ready to face anything.” This prayer would serve as a defining moment of his personal faith and his leadership of the Montgomery movement.
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King emphasized this kitchen table experience in later stories about the boycott and recounted it in sermons around the country for years. Many King scholars have followed King’s lead, emphasizing this prayer as a critical turning point. Keith Miller emphasizes the “social gospel twist” of the story: “Unlike the narrators of traditional conversions, he faltered not from personal weakness or temptation, but from the strain of leading a social crusade. His description testifies to a social gospel, for God offered him strength—not to resist personal temptation—but to continue leading the bus boycott. By translating the social gospel into a conversion narrative, he expertly blends this-worldly and otherworldly redemption.” James Cone claims this was the moment when King first made the God of the African American experience his own. Mervyn Warren asserts that the vision at the kitchen table transformed King from “a mere pastor to a minister with innumerable inner resources.” Lewis Baldwin also credits what he calls King’s “vision in the kitchen” with solidifying a spiritual conception of his social leadership. Baldwin goes on to qualify his perspective, however, suggesting this was not a unique experience, but rather was one reflective of many such encounters King had over the course of his civil rights leadership.
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King did not mention this epiphany publicly for nearly a year, when he was quoted as telling his church that he had a vision in which God told him to “stand up and die for the truth, stand up and die for the righteousness.” Given the distance between the incident and any public account, it is quite possible King used this event as a rhetorical device to capsulate
a yearlong journey marked by a consistent struggle with fear and doubt. Throughout the year, and for the remainder of his life, King fought to retain his faith in God’s ultimate power and presence. King’s sermons suggest a need by both King and the community to be reminded again and again that “our God is able” and that one can indeed “believe in a good God in the midst of glaring evil.” While his vision at the kitchen table was significant, it was but one in a series of crises that King faced during the year of the boycott. King’s faith in God and in his own ability to lead developed in the midst of many moments of truth throughout the year.
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A few days later, King called a special executive board meeting of the MIA to deal with some urgent issues. The minutes reflect that the first item they addressed was whether to accept a new settlement proposal made by “white friends” to Reverend Binion, who was on the MIA finance committee and served on the executive board. After explaining that this proposal had been floated before the so-called compromise, Binion suggested that a vastly reduced number of seats reserved for whites on predominantly black bus routes might be amenable to the city commissioners and provide some grounds for an agreement. Nixon dismissed the suggestion immediately, noting the board was “going to run into trouble” with the foot soldiers of the movement should they make such a compromise. Nixon wanted no part of such a compromise: “If that’s what you’re going to do, I don’t want to be here when you tell the people.” King quickly sided with Nixon: “From my limited contact, if we went tonight and asked the people to get back on the bus, we would be ostracized. They wouldn’t get back. We shouldn’t give people the illusion that there are no sacrifices involved, that it could be ended soon. My intimidations are a small price to pay if victory can be won. We shouldn’t make the illusion that they won’t have to walk. I believe to the bottom of my heart that the majority of Negroes would ostracize us. They are willing to walk.” King knew this was no time to grow timid or turn back. If the people were willing to walk, the leaders of the MIA needed to demonstrate their commitment through bold leadership. They took a courageous step when they concluded their meeting with a commitment to file suit in federal court to seek a ruling that would ensure full integration on city buses.
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That evening, a mass meeting was held at Ralph Abernathy’s First
Baptist Church. In King’s keynote address, he told the people: “If M. L. King had never been born this movement would have taken place. I just happened to be here. You know there comes a time when time itself is ready for change. That time has come in Montgomery, and I had nothing to do with it.” Referring to his recent arrest and fine for speeding at the hands of Montgomery police, King continued, “If all I have to pay is going to jail a few times and getting about 20 threatening calls a day, I think it is a very small price to pay for what we are fighting for.” As the meeting was winding down, King received word that a bomb had exploded at his home where his wife, Coretta, and their new baby were resting.
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King rushed home, making his way through a gathering crowd to discover a hole in the front porch and several shattered windows. He quickly located his wife, Coretta, and was relieved to discover that she and their young baby had not been harmed. King next turned his attention to the angry crowd, which was primarily comprised of a number of Alabama State students and some working-class blacks who had sacrificed significantly over the previous few months. From his badly damaged front porch, King urged them not to resort to violence but to continue to love their enemies. He then reiterated a theme he had sounded at the mass meeting earlier in the evening, reminding them that “if I am stopped this movement will not stop. If I am stopped our work will not stop. For what we are doing is right. What we are doing is just. And God is with us.” After encouraging the crowd to return to their homes, King added, “We are not hurt and remember that if anything happens to me, there will be others to take my place.”
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