David Webber, Columbia MISSOURIAN March 30, 2018
Last April 4, the 49th year since the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. was killed in Memphis, I became curious about Columbia’s reaction to the news of King’s murder on April 4, 1968. So, I spent the evening with Columbia Tribune microfilm at the Columbia Public Library. I was curious, hopeful and a little bit afraid of what I would find. When I came to Columbia in 1986, I was surprised to discover its segregated housing pattern, to learn that I walked the same ground where slaves once worked and to count more Confederate names than Union names on the courthouse war memorial.
I learned a great deal from the Tribune’s coverage of the week following April 4, 1968. Most important, Columbia remained calm and did not experience violent reactions as did Jefferson City, Kansas City and St. Louis.
The local context of public reaction to King’s murder included the defeat of a hotly debated open housing referendum just a few weeks before. Nationally, the politics of Vietnam War had caused President Lyndon Johnson to announce on March 31, 1968, that he would not run for re-election.
On Saturday, April 6 of that year, more than 500 “Negroes and non-Negroes” attended a two-hour memorial service at the Second Baptist Church where Mayor George Nicholaus called on “all Columbians to heal through mutual respect the deep disillusionment evoked by the sniper slaying” of King. He urged all people to “forget differences, look at similarities.”
The Sunday after the Thursday that King was killed was Palm Sunday. King was buried during the Christian Holy Week.
Nicholaus said, “I think the playing of ‘The Star Spangled Banner’ makes us all realize that we have a common purpose of being here tonight.”
Nicholaus went on, “I could not help but draw an analogy to the week we are about to begin” and “the last words of our Lord as he hangs on the Roman cross, ‘It is finished.'”
The Tribune reported that the mood of the audience was one of reverent dedication to making King’s death an impetus for better race relations.
At 2 p.m. Tuesday, April 9, the day of King’s funeral in Atlanta, more than 1,000 marched “10-12 abreast, many arm-in-arm” from the Blind Boone Community Center to the Boone Country Courthouse.
The event was led by the Columbia Civil Rights Coalition and heard remarks from five speakers, including George Brooks of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, Annie Gardner of the Congress for Racial Equality and two members of the Columbia Action Teen Council.
An April 10, 1968, Tribune editorial praised local citizens for staying true to King’s philosophy of nonviolence. It read:
“Anyone who has taken the trouble to observe our Columbia Negro people in recent months can have gained only one impression.
“Through the frustrating experience of the open housing election and the despair surrounding Dr. King’s murder, they have conducted themselves with dignity, intelligence, and restraint. They have clung tenaciously to their announced tactic of operating peacefully and within the law…
“During the open housing situation, the Negro voice was fair and untainted by malice. In defeat it remained admirably calm. At the Tuesday afternoon memorial service it said things that any resident of this city would hear with complete approval…
“The Negro leadership in Columbia today is exemplary. The Negro people respond to their suggestion of using traditional democratic means for achieving progress.”
As a believer in “traditional democratic means” for changing public policy, my research into Columbia’s reaction to King’s killing was a relief to my worries that Columbia might have been full of racial strife. The Columbia of 1968 sounds like it was the foundation of Columbia today that strives to make racial progress, even if painfully slow.
As for me, I was a junior in high school in a nearly all-white western Pennsylvania steel town. I heard the news with my father on the car radio when we stopped for gas on the way home that Thursday evening.
We were stunned. We sat in disbelief. Over the next few days my parents worried about the safety of my elder sister who attended a university not far from Pittsburgh’s Hill District that went up in flames like more than a 100 American cities.
Over the years since King’s murder, I have marveled at his personal characteristics of patience and persistent, but perhaps mostly at his leadership abilities.
At the time of his death, King was struggling with the Black Power movement, as well as the politics of the Vietnam War. As I learn more history and personal accounts of those 50 years, I learn the great struggles and sacrifices made by millions of my fellow citizens to move toward more racial equality.
The year 1968 was a traumatic year in American history; my impression is that Columbia came through in a lot better condition than most cities. Leadership of the black community must have been the difference.
David Webber joined the MU Political Science Department in 1986 and wrote his first column for the Missourian in 1994.