That Night at the Lorraine

He was (39) years of age when that rifle shot cracked and the muzzle blast lit up the night.  A minister.  A young man.  A son.  A brother.  The father of (4) children.  A husband.  A leader.  A singular voice.  A soon-to-be icon and later – little more than a catch-phrase, a caricature of his public self.  As the years have passed since he died, the magnitude of what he represented for so many Americans has been diminished, forgotten nearly from where I see it.  It feels like we get farther away from what he stood for every day.

What has always struck me about MLK is his accepting knowledge of the inevitable and his insistence to still go there.  It is clear in his last speech that he knew that he was on borrowed time – and he still made the speech and didn't mince his words.  In spite of his acknowledged fate, he said the only words that were in his heart, he said exactly what he had to say.  I wasn’t alive at the time and I didn’t hear them then, but they give me chills when I see those grainy clips today.  Those images of Martin on 3 April.  Galvanized.  Confident.  Resolved.  Unbreakable.  Look in his eyes though the next time you watch the film – he knew those were his last words, and he made them as important as anything he had ever said prior to.  The last words he ever spoke in public:

 “…well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn't matter with me now. Because I've been to the mountaintop.  And I don't mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land! And so I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!”

I’m not even remotely qualified to speak intelligently about what he means, who he was, the place he holds or should hold in the lexicon of American History, but I do know that I remain in awe of his persona and the indelible mark that he left on the conscience of this country.  I certainly have never known the struggles that he or those he represented knew on the daily.  I am however well aware of how hard it is to remain calm in the face of adversity, to not react when the very embodiment of all that you are against is screaming in your face and he did exactly that.  His was the voice of reason at a time when all the voices in this country were angry and out of concert. 

He was by no means perfect.  He was reportedly an unabashed philanderer, an absentee father and his policies and beliefs became more and more radical throughout his life, alienating even his most ardent supporters.  But the conviction he held in the vision he saw for America never wavered, however Utopian and possibly unattainable it might have been.  To the end, he undoubtedly believed that the chasm between races in this country could in fact be bridged.  Dedication of that depth on any social concern is rare if not non-existent before or since.

He once said, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”  What happened to ideals like that?  Today, a similar statement made by a public figure would be met with incredible ridicule.  It would be decried as left-wing, liberal nonsense and panned in the media as naïve and forgettable.  It probably was then as well.  In the Archie Bunker mentality that permeated American society during that time anything that was dissimilar was labeled as communist.  Even the FBI agreed.  

Forty-five years to the day after his death, has that much really changed?  The racism and division that he dedicated his life to fighting still exists today; it’s everywhere if you pay attention.  We’re just more polite about it now than we were then.  I fear that our collective political correctness masks a darkness about us that may never go away.  The best you can do is to know what you know in your heart to be right and live such that the rest of the world has no choice but to follow your example.  

It might not seem like it sometimes, but the world is a better place because he lived in it.  And it is a damn shame what happened to him that night at the Lorraine.  His voice was silenced too soon.  R.I.P. Martin.  If we are lucky, we will catch up to where you were way back then.  

“The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.”

Martin Luther King, Jr.

15 January 1929 – 4 April 1968