04/04/2008

Gene Herrick Remembers Martin Luther King Jr.

MULTIMEDIA: An AP photo slideshow highlighting the legacy of Martin Luther King Jr.

What started in Alabama and ended in Tennessee for Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., also were a beginning and an end for me.

The man who was to become a hero to millions and an icon for the masses seeking equality for black people in the world, and especially for those relating to slavery in this country, started his trek in the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama, and had his life ended in Memphis, Tennessee.

Friday, April 4, is the 40th anniversary of Dr. King's assassination on a motel balcony in downtown Memphis. He was there to bring attention to the local garbage truck driver's strike.

Our paths crossed many times.

It all started in 1956 in Montgomery, Ala. The Reverend King, who hailed from Georgia, took over the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church.

There was growing unrest in the area because of the way the black people felt white people, a problem that had permeated the South for years, especially after the Civil War, were treating them.

The trigger which ignited the change in history was a petite black lady named Rosa Parks, who got on a Montgomery city bus and sat down in an empty seat in the front section -- then a cardinal sin in the South.

At the time, I was working in Memphis, Tenn., as an Associated Press photographer.

Ironically, I was already in Tuscaloosa covering another story, also involving a black lady. She was Autherine Lucy, who was attempting to enroll in the University of Alabama.

I got to Montgomery in time to get a picture of Rosa Parks being fingerprinted after her arrest in the bus incident. That was Feb. 22, 1956. She was among some 100 people who were charged with violating segregation laws. That incident, led to what became known as the Montgomery Bus Boycott. It was exactly one month later, to the day, that Dr. King was arrested and found guilty of conspiring to boycott city busses during a campaign to desegregate the bus system. A judge suspended King’s fine of $500.

I took pictures of both events, two of which have been highly publicized. The picture of Rev. King shows him being kissed on the cheek by his wife as they come down the courthouse steps after his release after his hearing, and the one of Rosa Parks being fingerprinted. Both pictures were used in an Associated Press book, entitled "FLASH," which was a compilation of AP's staff coverage of historical news events. All of the pictures in that book also made a world tour exhibition. Both pictures have been used in newspapers and television, especially on the various anniversaries.

I attended at least two church services at the Dexter Avenue church where King was the pastor and speaker. I remember one very well. It was Palm Sunday. The church was bulging at the seams with congregants. I arrived to cover the event, and entered a back door and came upon the choir loft. I had no other path to the area in front of the pulpit, except over the choir. The choir members very graciously moved a leg here, and a leg there, permitting me to step on their chair, and thus to the main floor.

Finally in position, I wondered about my situation. I was the only white person in that overflow crowd. I pondered the thought about my situation. What if the role had been reversed, and I had been a black photographer in a sea of white church members? However, I felt secure being there, even with the uncertainty of the area unrest. I had always loved working in the South. I must, because I eventually selected Franklin County to be my retirement home.

With the picture of Dr. King, there was a caption comment which said, "Looking back, photographer Gene Herrick remembers his coverage of King as 'an overnight trip that lasted five weeks." It was an exciting five weeks, and the memories cling to my mind even these 40 years later.

In 1957, King was elected President of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, a platform from which he lead his world-wide movement for peaceful and fair equality for black people. I have covered many members of that organization, including the Rev. Ralph Abernathy. It was a new burgeoning civil rights movement, whose ideas were Christian, and, from India's Gandhi, non-violent. King later received the Nobel Peace Prize.

There is irony in life, and irony it was that brought us together again, but not pleasantly.

It was a routine Thursday evening in Chicago. The year was 1968. I was working as a photo editor in the AP's office on Randolph Street in the loop of downtown. A "hot line" telephone on my desk rang. It was a few minutes after six. The call was on a direct line to our photo desk in New York. The conversation was brief and to the point. "Gene, Martin Luther King has been shot in Memphis, Tennessee. We think he is dead, but we are trying to confirm that. You used to work there, and you know the place, so start making arrangements to fly there right now."

I called American Airlines to make arrangements for the next flight out. I called our chief photo editor, Fred Wright, at home and filled him in. He suggested I also take photographer Charles Knoblock. I got Charlie, but he couldn't go on my flight, but would take the next one. I called home and told my wife. The "hot line" rang again, and the voice said, "He's dead; get going." My flight was scheduled to leave in 30 minutes. I was at least 45 minutes from the airport.

I ran to the street level and caught a cab. I told the driver where I wanted to go, and the departure time of my flight. He looked at me as if I was crazy. I told him why. He was a black man who quickly became interested in the story about Dr. King. I kept urging him to go faster, and faster. Somehow, by the powers above, I arrived at the terminal, presented my credit card, and asked the clerk if I had time to grab a hot dog since I had not eaten since noon. "Absolutely not, they are holding the plane for you now." I ran to the plane, whose engines were running, and when on board, the doors, which were already half closed, completed their mission.

Everyone on the plane was excited. The hostess only served little cocktail sandwiches, but knowing I hadn't eaten, she made numerous passes and deposited more of those little things.

The flight was over southern Illinois when the hostess came to me and said that the plane could not land in Memphis, but had to over-fly to New Orleans. I explained I had to land in Memphis, and that I could not get a car in New Orleans and drive back in time. The hostess made the trip to the cockpit and relayed my information. She came back and said they were prevented from landing because Martial Law had been declared in Memphis. The National Guard had been called out because of an expectant riot over Dr. King's assassination, and the airport was surrounded by the military. I firmly suggested she go tell the pilot that I had all sorts of governmental identification and press credentials, and that all he had to do was land the plane somewhere away from the terminal and I would walk in.

The hostess came back and said the pilot would land the plane for me!

I deplaned and walked to the terminal, which was surrounded by tanks and jeeps with machine guns. Somehow, I caught a cab there and made it safely into our office in the Memphis Commercial Appeal building, at the edge of downtown, and very near where King was killed.

I started picking up pictures from that newspaper. Knoblock flew in at first light, and we went to the flophouse on Main Street, where the killer used his rifle to kill King. The killer stood in a bathtub in the only restroom on the second floor, braced his rifle on the windowsill, and put one bullet into King’s head. King and others were standing on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel.

After Knoblock took his pictures of the view of the killing, I stood in that tub, the tub from which a man killed a man, not an everyday man, but the man who started a movement that has changed humanity in a positive way.

The slaying happened one day after King delivered his famous "Mountaintop" sermon.

The accused killer, later identified as James Earl Ray, was later captured in England. He has since died in prison.

I was always impressed with passivity of King's peace movement. I remember that day in the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church when he spoke on Palm Sunday. Each church member wore a small cross made of palm. On each one was a piece of white tape, which read: "God Forgive Them."

After the service, and as the crowd exited the church, they were met by a big group of angry white men. The black congregation quietly, and peacefully, passed through what could have become a mob. There were angry remarks and slurs, but no physical damage, except for a little pushing and shoving. I don’t know when I have seen such bravery. They were members of a passive, non-violent movement, and they did what was expected of them.

Dr. Martin Luther King shouted, "I Have A Dream." His dream lives on. For people like me, we have our memories.