About AFSCME

The Memorial March

Federal Judge Bailey Brown had agreed on Friday, April 5, to lift the ban he had issued against a march on the following Monday. His cancellation of the restraining order was subject to an eight-point agreement:

(1) The march had to begin after nine a.m. and end by five p.m.
(2) Marchers had to walk no more than eight abreast.
(3) There had to be internal policing, by persons selected and trained as marshals by march leaders.
(4) Placards could be carried, but could not be mounted on sticks.
(5) There would be no limit on the number of marchers.
(6) There would be no minimum age for marchers.
(7) Young people and older people had to be well mixed in the line of march.
(8) Arrangements had to be made for fast, high-level consultation with the court and police to take care of contingencies.

This agreement was negotiated by Bayard Rustin and his assistant, Norman Hill, both of whom accepted much of the responsibility for organizing the march, with the help of the few SCLC staffers who could be spared from funeral preparations in Atlanta.

Plans called for 500 marshals -- young militants among them -- 50 captains, and 20 chief marshals. There would be a public address system sufficient for a crowd of 40,000. Three principal messages were printed on hundreds of placards: "UNION JUSTICE NOW," "HONOR KING: END RACISM," and "I AM A MAN."

Monday was a cool, slate-grey day. A threatened rain never materialized. People started gathering at Clayborn Temple before eight o'clock, although the appointed hour was ten o'clock -- the march to begin promptly at eleven.

Unionists arrived from all over the country. A very large delegation came from the New York United Federation of Teachers, AFL-CIO. Just a few of the others represented were the Texas AFL-CIO; the Maritime Union; the Councils of American Federation of State, County and Municipal Employees from Michigan, Arkansas, New York, and Louisiana; and the "Cincinnati Labor Movement."

There were civil rights groups from Chicago, Milwaukee, Forest Park, and Peoria, Illinois. There were representatives of the New York School of Social Work and of the Negro Benevolent Society, Inc., Department of Sanitation, City of New York.

Mrs. King's plane had been delayed in leaving Atlanta because of weather conditions, but the march was begun at eleven-twenty anyway. Two huge trailers had been so placed on Hernando Street as to form a funnel through which only eight people could pass abreast, and the march started through that passage.

The Rev. Mr. James Lawson and Dr. Ralph Jackson led the way. The front rank also included Walter Reuther; T. 0. Jones, president of the striking local; Jerry Wurf; and Dr. Benjamin Spock.

There were quite a few local white ministers in the march. There were members of the militant "INVADERS" wearing yellow arm bands to indicate that they were marshals. Councilman Jerry Blanshard, the only white member of the city council to vote with the three Negro members throughout the dispute, marched near the front.

Silently the march passed battle-geared, helmeted Guardsmen stationed in front of a fire station, construction sites, and vulnerable store windows. Double ranks of Guardsmen sealed off all side streets. They stood at parade rest, the muzzles of their rifles thrust out before them at arm's length. Unsheathed bayonets pointed upward toward the line of march like the points of a listing picket fence. For the most part, the Guardsmen looked straight ahead, but could not keep their eyes from following a bearded young photographer with flowing locks who minced past them on sockless feet.

Guardsmen were visible on the roofs of tall buildings. A city policeman stood at the corner of Linden and Main with an automatic weapon at the ready. A motorcycled "special officer" with a bolt-action rifle slung on his back idled his rumbling machine alongside the silent marchers.

There was a delay of about ten minutes at Main and Beale. Then, at eleven-fifty-five, Mrs. King took position at the head of the march, along with the Reverend Messrs. Abernathy, Young, and Williams of the SCLC staff, and Harry Belafonte.

One marcher wore a T-shirt lettered, "I Had A Dream -- 4-8-68." Another walked in striped prison trousers and carried a sign that read "Out With Loeb and His Butchers."

A man in the rank behind Councilman Blanshard carried a high frequency radio receiver tuned to the police band, Mr. Blanshard told another marcher he was mortified to hear the police dispatcher repeatedly give directions like "Large number of male niggers at Main and Union . . " or "Two niggers spotted in window on north side of the hotel..."

On the sidelines, some spectators had climbed into a display window out of which the glass had been broken during the March 28 "riot." A sign on the intact window of one shop read "Closed Monday in Memoriam to Dr. Martin Luther King." There was a floral spray on the door. The display compartments were bare -- just in case.

Two elderly Negro women stood weeping and wiping their eyes. One old Negro man said to another, "Well, we've lived to see some history."

There were many young Negroes in the march. A sizeable number of bitter-looking, hard-eyed teenagers walked along behind spectators, occasionally stopping to watch. Four or five of them stopped to talk in the entry of a vacant store. One idly stood on tiptoe and picked up a broken piece of heavy wooden molding from the top of a column. He hefted it a couple of times with his hand, then, grinning, replaced it.

As that group moved on down the sidewalk, another member of it grinned at his buddies and asked jokingly, "Ya'll ready now?"

Three tough-looking young white men stood on the curb monitoring police calls on a portable receiver and making comments. As a group from the Amalgamated Clothing Workers passed, carrying their identifying sign, one of this trio said, "Aglamated . . . algam . . . what's that?" And one of his friends replied, "Don't know. Must be some kind of sick nuts."

Another group of three or four whites were laughing on a corner. They kept glancing appreciatively at the National Guardsmen stationed there. "They better not start a riot," one remarked. "Yeah," his friend agreed with a smile and a nod toward the troops. "If they start a riot, there's gonna be a big funeral in Memphis."

The ceremonies were started in the plaza in front of city hall before even half of the marchers had filed in. They were still coming, four abreast, when the speechmaking was more than half over.

There were brief remarks by Ossie Davis, Harry Belafonte, Mrs. King, Jerry Wurf, Dr. Spock, Dr. Ralph Jackson, and James Bevel. Congressman John Conyers of Michigan introduced Mrs. Rosa Parks and Congressman William F. Ryan of New York.

The principal address by the Rev. Ralph Abernathy was, in the main, an expression of determination. "We are on our way to Washington," he said. "It became necessary for us to detour by way of Memphis . . . We are going to Washington, but we are going to stay here in Memphis until this problem is solved."

After he had spoken, Don Slaiman of the AFL-CIO Civil Rights Division brought a message from George Meany, president of the organization. "The struggle of the sanitation workers here in Memphis is the struggle of all organized labor." He looked forward to black and white working together in a solid program, "starting today."

Walter Reuther announced a donation of $50,000 from the United Auto Workers strike fund to Memphis sanitation men. He added, "I want to say to the mayor that, if it takes more than this, there will be more coming." (On the same day that Dr. King was murdered, the AFL-CIO donated $20,000 to start off a nationwide appeal to unions for funds for the Memphis strike.)

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