April 3, 1968. The rain came down like a curtain. Ralph Abernathy and I had just left Martin Luther King at the Lorraine Motel. I was a local pastor and the chairman of the black sanitation workers’ strike. Martin had come to Memphis at my invitation to lead a mass march scheduled for April 5. It was just the kind of march Martin felt the movement needed--one that joined issues of racism and poverty.
A rally was planned for that night, but Martin thought the storm would probably cause people to stay at home. He begged off. He was tired and needed to work on the upcoming Poor People’s March. Ralph and I agreed to go to the rally and call him if necessary. We found nearly 4,000 people inside Mason Temple. It was the kind of cheerful gathering that occurs when people have struggled to get there. We told Martin to come right away. That night he gave his prophetic “I Have Been to the Mountaintop” speech. It was to be his last. When I learned of Martin’s assassination the next day, I was grief-stricken, but not unprepared. Martin told us it would happen, given the kind of change he was calling for in the society.
On the 30th anniversary of Martin’s death, I feel his loss personally and as a citizen. Martin and I were more than friends. We were fellow travelers along a spiritual path to help create a just society. We met at Oberlin College in 1957. I had recently returned from India, where I’d studied Gandhi’s nonviolence in my effort to confront American racism. As King listened to my story, he became excited and asked me to come quickly to the South. I soon moved to Nashville and began directing activities to end segregation there.
Aside from my personal feelings, I am disturbed as a citizen because America has largely ignored Martin Luther King. We ignore him when we do not honestly search for the truth of his murder. Why were no firsthand witnesses interviewed? Why was his regular security not available that day? Why not give James Earl Ray the trial he never had? We cannot blithely walk away from the murder of one of our most prophetic voices and not expect our collective soul to drag.
We ignore King when African American leaders fail to build on his campaign of nonviolence. Too many of us have not carried forth King’s comprehensive vision for America. When the movement stalled, critics of King had the chance to reverse the process of social Justice. Yes, Wall Street is booming and Tiger Woods is a hero, but the gap between rich and poor is widening. Racism thrives in many guises. The public schools are stratified by race and class. And, as Jonesboro reminds us, we are paying the price for raising our children in a culture of violence.
We ignore King when the media project him as merely a “civil rights” leader. It is as if his life ended right after he said, “I Have a Dream.” But Martin lived another five years after the 1963 March on Washington. He gave perhaps his most important speech at Riverside Church in 1967. There he linked the civil rights and peace movements and the war against poverty. He warned, “Our only hope today lies in our ability to go out and declare eternal hostility to poverty, racism and militarism. . . . If we do not act, we shall be dragged down the long dark corridors of time reserved for those who possess might without morality.”
Thirty years after his death, it is time to stop ignoring King and acknowledge him as a prophetic voice. At his death, King embodied the heart of the preamble to the Constitution itself. His quest was nothing less than to establish justice, insure domestic tranquillity and promote the general welfare. As a nation, we can truly honor King by regaining his vision.
Originally published in the Los Angeles Times on April 3, 1998.