I Was There (1963) | 50th Anniversary March on Washington

Joelle Fishman

I was a junior in high school in 1963, attending Camden High School in Camden, New Jersey. My family was outraged at the brutality of racism and segregationist practices. We participated in pickets in front of Woolworth’s store to protest their refusal to serve African Americans at their lunch counter. That was one of many other activities at that time. We could not all afford to attend the march, and my parents wisely decided that I should be the representative of the family, along with a girlfriend from a nearby town. We boarded the charter bus with anticipation and determination. The radio news had been filled with reports that there would be wide-spread violence in Washington. We knew this was a provocation to make people afraid to attend. I will always remember that day. The atmosphere was so beautiful and peaceful. The huge crowd was inter-racial, Black and white together. Everyone was dressed in their Sunday best. Buses and trains came from all over the country including from the South, risking everything to come. Everyone looked out for each other and greeted each other with respect. Unions and other groups offered us signs to carry. It was a sweltering heat. Some people put their feet into the reflecting pool to get cooled off. We made our way around and stood at the near end of the reflecting pool on the side closest to the speakers podium. The program was overwhelming. What a privilege to be there in person to take a stand, to make history and to appreciate all the speakers and the music. Of course Dr. Martin Luther King’s address was very emotional even at the time. I remember everyone holding hands to sing We Shall Overcome. There was an announcement that anyone who would like to continue South for the Freedom Rides should meet at a certain location. We went there and boarded the bus. Then someone came and asked our ages. Since we were under 18 were were told we could not go. We were heartbroken, but we did understand. The civil rights movement and specifically the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom was important in shaping my life, as it was for so many. The task is far from finished, but the lessons learned about tactics and building unity are foremost for the struggles of today to achieve freedom, equality and peace.

Van White

Thank you for your contribution. You have helped us preserve a critical aspect of American history.
Sarah Davidson

Joelle: I came to the March in 1963 as a teenage civil rights leader from North Little Rock,Arkansas. I am conducting research on children who attended the March in conjunction with Ida Jones PhD, Association of Black Women Historians. I would beappreciative if I can interview you. I live in Silver Spring, MD Phone: 240 515-5739 E-mail: sarahdavdison11@aol.com

Bridgette Burch

Joelle, your story was beautiful! Loved hearing about. I hope your story appears in the soon-to-be released book. If so, I’ll be the first to buy it!

Peter Y. Sussman

The Overbeck Capitol Hill History Project and Capitol Hill Village are also soliciting marchers’ recollections. They are planning a “Were You There?” program in Washington on Feb. 23. They asked for my recollections of the march. I wrote them up but feel they’re too long for a comment box on their site (or for this one), so I’ve posted them on my personal website, http://www.peterysussman.com. As for so many other march vets with whom I’ve discussed it, August 28, 1963, made an indelible impression, changing the way I viewed my role in fostering social change. I’ll be traveling to Washington from the West Coast for the commemorative events this August 28 and look forward to hearing updates on the plans.

VanWhite

Thank you for your post. Would you be interested on having your remembrances included in “Marching Forward By Looking Back”.
- Peter Y. Sussman
  
  I’m sorry I didn’t get back to this site earlier to see your reply. If there’s still time, I’d be honored to have my recollections included in the book. No need to include the intro I did for the Overbeck site; you can take the whole text from my website, http://www.peterysussman.com. If you have any questions, please contact me at peter@psussman.com. I hope this isn’t too late. Apologies again for not checking back earlier.
- Peter Y. Sussman
  
  I’m sorry I didn’t get back to this site earlier to see your reply. If there’s still time, I’d be honored to have my recollections included in the book. No need to include the intro I did for the Overbeck site; you can take the whole text from my website, http://www.peterysussman.com. If you have any questions, please contact me at peter@psussman.com. I hope this isn’t too late. Apologies for not checking back earlier.
- barbaralee12
  
  I was 15 years old when I attended the March On Washington and I also attended the 20th Anniversary on August 27 1983.I was also fortunate to have been a Delegate for Obama on August 28th 2008 in Denver .to hear the First Black President accept the nomination for President of the USA.That day in August of 1963 was hot and humid but the spirit of the people made up for that.The sea of people sang ole gospel songs and prayed .But when DR. King came out to speak the crowd went to complete silence.People cried and you could hear them say amen and amen.

Vernay Dabney

My dad attended the March on Washington in 1963, while I was a rising 8th grader in junior high school in the Bronx, NY. I watched the I Have a Dream Speech on TV at home. Now it’s my turn to attend the March in person. I am planning to attend the 50th anniversary March on 8/28/13 (and the conference on 8/27). I am looking forward to it with eager anticipation!

June Wiley

I attended the March on Washington with my family. I was nine years old and in the third grade and because of my family’s enthusiasm and eagerness to go I was also very much looking forward to it.

It was a very hot and humid day and the throngs of people seemed to stretch for miles. I was surrounded by so many adults, people who seemed to loom over me. The energy and excitement of being there with so many other African Americans was extraordinary. The enormity of the day could not be fully comprehended by me as a nine year old, but I certainly knew that African Americans were discriminated against and the protests in the South and elsewhere meant that many courageous people were involved. (I’ll also never forget that I had a bloody nose that day, but due to the heat/humidity and the excitement, not any kind of altercation.)

I heard Dr. King’s speech. I saw the throngs of people united in a peaceful demonstration and I was a part of it. It is a day I will never forget. I can remember it like it was yesterday. It is a day I proudly remember and look forward to sharing with my grandchildren as soon as they are old enough to fully appreciate this historical event.

Sarah Davidson

June: I came to
the March in 1963 as a teenage civil rights leader from North Little Rock,
Arkansas. I am conducting research on children who attended the March in conjunction
with Ida Jones PhD, Association of Black Women Historians. I would be
appreciative if I can interview you. I live in Silver Spring, MD Phone: 240 515
5739 E-mail: sarahdavdison11@aol.com

B. D. Colen

I covered the March as a summer photography intern for the Westport Town Crier, a small weekly paper in Connecticut. I had just turned 17 the week before, and my parents drove me to the Norwalk, CT, New Have Railroad station to catch the train at 2:30 a.m. and join up with a group from Westport going down to the March. I can still feel the heat, the humidity, and the hope that dominated that day so long ago. I remember sitting on the edge of the northwest corner of the Reflecting Pool, my feet dangling in the water, listening to those words of Martin Luther King’s that now belong to history. Of all the events I experienced in my life – and I was at literally every anti-war demonstration in Washington, D.C., from the fall of 1966 to the end of the war, the March on Washington is the single event of which I always say – proudly – “I was there.” And I plan to be there again this summer to mark the 50th Anniversary.

Senior Correspondent

I want to invite you to share your story and photographs with Senior Correspondent, an online media venture powered by the stories of seasoned journalists and storytellers. Senior Correspondent is planning in-depth coverage of the March 50 years later, and it is currently collecting reflections here: http://www.seniorcorrespondent.com/march-submit
kathy

Wow you must be so proud to have been there I was 4 years old and I can only imagine. I grew up in New York and I remember watching Dr. King and all the News about what was happening in the south and all over America. It has affected me greatly. The kids today can only listen to what we tell them they did not live it so they are at a disadvantage. We have to keep the dream alive. I am going to the March also. I am a nurse. I always wanted to be a Photographer. You must have some beautiful photos that you have taken. They are the treasure’s from Our History….Thank God for you.
- B. D. Colen
  
  Thank you, Kathy. Your comments mean a great deal to me. Here are some of the photos from that day – forgive the quality, but these are iPhone photos of poor prints, and a photo of the page in the newspaper.
Chandra Salvi Harrington

Wow. I was also sitting at the northwest corner of the Reflecting Pool on that day. I was 18 years old, about to enter college when I decided to join the March, though I traveled alone. My parents took me to board a bus at Carter Playground in Roxbury. I didn’t know anyone on the bus. We sang Civil Rights songs on the way down. When we got to DC, I left the group to find a porta-potty. After waiting in a long line, I never found the Boston group again. I remember seeking relief from the heat by sitting by the Pool and dangling my feet in the water. Though I did not realize the significance of that day at the time, I am proud to know that I was there. And I will return this August.
- B. D. Colen
  
  I wonder how many of us were there, heard all the speeches – including “the speech,” and while we understood that we were part of something significant, hadn’t a clue just how significant that day, and the “dream speech” were.
  
  Where do you live now, Chandra?
  - Chandra Salvi Harrington
    
    I live in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
    - B. D. Colen
      
      I work in Cambridge. If you’d like to meet drop me an email at bd@bdcolenphoto.com
  - Janice Tudy-Jackson
    
    50 years ago, as an entering college freshman, from the housing projects of Brooklyn, NY, I participated in the historic “March on Washington,” on August 28, 1963. I took a chartered bus to D.C., with my Mom, a community activist, my best friend, Valerie, and her Dad. We were fortunate enough to find a place on the lawn, adjacent to the Reflecting Pool, right near the Lincoln Memorial! Back then, I knew that we were part of something very special. However, I had no idea that that day and that event would change the course of the United States and the world!
    
    Now, 50 years later, as a senior citizen, a consultant, a law professor and a minister, I was blessed to travel to D.C., on Saturday, August 24, 2013, to participate in the 50th Anniversary of the “March on Washington!” My Mom, who is now 92 years of age (and still an activist), was unable to make the trip, last Saturday, due to her advanced age. However, I thank God that I was there, last Saturday, to continue to carry on the work–even beyond the 50th Anniversary March!
- Lyda Peters
  
  Hi Chandra … I just entered my memories. I was living in Boston then but spent the summers in NY with my aunt. So we went from there. I’m going, too, this year. Let’s talk.
Donovan X. Ramsey

My name is Donovan X. Ramsey. I’m a reporter for NBC’s theGrio.com. We’re currently putting together reflections from the MoW from people who attended that historic day. We’d love to include your story. Please give me a call at 404.654.3726 or email donovan@donovanxramsey.com. I would love to interview you.

Derek Hawksley

Dear friends, Last night I had an unusual dream in which I could do math! I dreamed that the 50th anniversary of the 1963 Emancipation March On Washington was coming up and though I’m not normally prone to what the Quakers would call “leading”, I find myself planning a trip to Washington this August 28th.

Of course, the original demonstration has always profoundly stood out in my mind, but I am also struck by how many of my peers who were also there that I have known over the years and am still at least occasionally in touch. I think I will take the train this time and invite any and all of you to join me either on the journey or in Washington on August 18th. It could well be a vigil of one amongst the tourists, but I would welcome you, your partners , children and grandchildren. Feel free to to pass this on to others if you think they might be interested.

Peace & Freedom; Derek Hawksley

Derek Hawksley

I found these civil rights buttons and a double side placard I made in the basement. Also a photo on the net of a ten year old me cooling my feet in the reflecting pool. I have a feeling that I made the sign after the event.

VanWhite

Hello Im the organizer of the conference and march which occured last week. Did you attend either of those events last week? Also interested in knowing whether you ever supplied a written narrative of your experiences in 1963?

Denice Tyree

I was 15 years old and I was there … by myself. I lived in N.E. DC off of Bladensburge Road and Maryland Avenue. Early that morning, I left my home on foot and walked straight out Maryland Avenue until I got downtown and joined the throng. When we got to the Monument, a group of interracial people offered to share their water, food and blanket with me. It was exhilerating sitting their listerning to the entertainment and Dr. Martin Luther King speaking. When it was over, I walked all the way back home. (Those were different times then. Nowadays, a 15 year old shouldn’t be allowed to go anywhere by themselves.) I became a member of SNCC, then the NAACP as I got a little older. I spent my 30 year government career in Civil Rights, as a civil rights assistant, and eventually, ending it as an Equal Employment Opportunity Specialist. I guess I’ve always been a civil rights activist. Thank you Dr. King.

T Warren

Denice, wow! What an amazing experience. My name is Thomas Warren. I’m a reporter with WTOP Radio. Do you still live in the DC area? I’m doing a feature story on the March anniv. and would really like to chat with you about your experience.
- Denice Tyree
  
  Yes, I’m still located in the DC area: Waldorf, MD, as a matter of fact. You can reach me via email at: d2t2.2@hotmail.com. Will be happy to speak with you.
Donovan X. Ramsey

Ms. Tyree, My name is Donovan X. Ramsey. I’m a reporter for NBC’s theGrio.com. We’re currently putting together reflections from the MoW from people who attended that historic day. We’d love to include your story. Please give me a call at 404.654.3726 or email donovan@donovanxramsey.com. I would love to interview you.
Sarah Davidson

Ms. Tyree: I am looking for people to interview who attended the March who were chlildren/youth in 1963. Please send me an e-mail: sarahdavidson11@aol.com
Gabrielle Ware

Hi Denice, I am a reporter with Channel 6 News in Duluth MN. I would love to talk to you about your experience over the phone or via Skype. Please give me a call, 218 391 0678
Marina Sullivan

Ms. Tyree,
My name is Marina Sullivan, and I’m a high school student in Anne Arundel County, Maryland. I was doing some research for a project in my U.S. History class when I came across your comment here. I would absolutely love to hear more about your experience at the March and to discuss with you its legacy and impact on American history. If you would be willing to meet with me for a short interview some time in the next few weeks, I would be very grateful. I would be happy to meet at a time and place that is convenient to you. Please let me know if you are interested in meeting with me; you can contact me via email at marinasullivan@verizon.net. Thank you so much, and I look forward to hearing from you.

Gerry Segal

I was 20 years old when I went and it changed my life for the better. I wrote this song about that time: Bus Ride to Washington

http://m.youtube.com/#/watch?v=O_slIO8CxDw

Gerry Segal
http://www.gerrysegal.com

Jurgen (Jack) Ahlers

In March ’63 I was a seminary student at Princeton Theological Seminary. A couple of representatives of the Protestant Council of NYC were on campus interviewing students for a new summer “internship” program about to be launched. I was selected to work that summer with young men on the streets of Bedford-Styvesant, Brooklyn. Most of the kids I “worked” with were school drop-outs, members of street gangs. When I learned about the March on Washington, I asked if anyone would want to go. At first, there was silence, then they began asking HOW we’d get there, etc. I suggested we try to raise enough money to rent a bus to be part of this historic day. We could leave early in the morning and be back later that night. Miraculously, the money came together: all who wanted to go (first come, first served), chipped in during the weeks leading up to the trip. Churches chipped in, after hearing some of the guys giving short presentations at Sunday services, as to why they (he) wanted to be there, etc. Some of the guys on the bus were members of opposing street gangs (all African-American). I anticipated some expression of animosity, even a fight, or two, on the trip to DC, but the spirit of anticipation was electrifying and somehow personal tensions were held in tow. Arriving, we walked a couple miles from where the driver parked the bus. Within a very short time, hordes of people were thickening, our Bed-Sty contingent melding into a massive sea – all heading in the same direction! Never will I forget how, in the hot August sun, we stood, listening, occasionally singing, yelping! Speaker after speaker, an occasional singer, then MLK and his dream! As certain as we stood there, the conviction began to sink in, what a momentous occasion we were witnessing. On the long ride home that night, there was initial chatter and shared excitement. Eventually, the chatter slowed, The rhythm of the bus’ wheels on the pavement, sounding not unlike a lullaby, beckoned restful sleep. Any expression of gang animosity I had anticipated remained contained, safely, in my head.

Janice Ferebee

What an awesome historic moment. I was seven years old in August 1963. I remember being in the kitchen with my family in Westbury, New York, preparing food for my father’s cooler, as he prepared to drive down to Washington, DC, to attend the March on Washington. Although we couldn’t point him out in the crowd, my two sisters, my mother and I were sooooo proud of him for joining the movement. We knew he was there!! My father, Elliot Ferebee, now 90 years old, is excited to be alive, not only to see the first African-American president of the United States, but also to be around (God willing), to be witness to the 50-year anniversary of an historic moment that he was a part of – THE MARCH ON WASHINGTON. He is a proud American and our family is proud to have been represented. I live in Washington, DC now and will be there on behalf of my father and family. God’s Best!

Betsy Levin

My sister and I and several of my closest friends attended the March. We can even remember exactly where, along the Reflecting Pool below the Lincoln Memorial, we were standing. When I left work the day before, having said I planned to join the March the next day, my co-workers said that it would become a riot, that it was dangerous, and I should stay home. Then in my 20s, I thought it was important to stand up for justice and equality. I not only admired Dr. King, I also admired greatly A. Philip Randolph, Bayard Rustin, and Walter Reuther. And standing there on that hot August day, with thousands of people, black and white, all demonstrating by their presence their hope for justice and equal rights, was one of the most momentous days of my life. And I fully intend, at age 77, to be present at the 50th anniversary of the March.

Teal Wilson

I was planning a bus charter with my friends and anyone else who wants to go to D.C. I am in the planning stages. So, having done this before how does bus rides work going there. I don’t want to be late. I want to be on the soil that I missed 50 years ago when I was eight years old.

Tom Artin

I still have my button, although mine doesn’t have the image of the clasped hands. I have recently published my book of photographs of the 1963 march as “March On!” Website for the book, with sample photos: http://www.marchon2013.com

arnold krupat

I boarded the bus at Union Square in New York, in the dark, with mostly union organizers, civil rights and peace activists. I was not yet 21. Coming into DC, past poor black neighborhoods with people on their porches cheering produced an unbelievable feeling. As we got off the bus–and there were buses parked as far as I could see–an older black man who’d got off another bus came up to me and, with a big smile, asked if I had a match. I apologized profusely, saying that I didn’t smoke. He hugged me, smiled, and said, Bless you son. The atmosphere was that charged.

I heard a white guy named Dylan sing; I heard a group called Peter, Paul, and Mary sing. And I heard a black preacher named King, a name I didn’t recognize, say, I have a dream!

On the way back to New York, our bus was shot at from an overpass in Virginia.

Michael Berger

What a lovely site! Great comments. Many thanks to all.
I went. Couldn’t get many to go with me except my friend John’s wife, Linda. Don’t know what has happened to them since.
Linda and I got on an overnight train from Pittsburgh. Sat up all night. It was hot and humid as you would expect in D.C. in August.
Huge crowds. Found space to sit on the grass near the reflecting pool and listened to the speeches. Of course MLK was powerful, heart-stopping powerful in places.
Who knew it would be a once- in -a- lifetime event.
And who knew that in about a year the 3 greatest leaders of our generation would be wiped out: MLK, JFK, and Bobbie.
It came to be a highlight of my life and when i remarried, though my fiancee wasn’t aware of the significance to me, it was on August 28th 1993.

Laurie Brenner

When my husband, Dwight Flowers, and I met in 1984, we discovered that we had been in the same place once before, back on August 28, 1963. Each of us had attended the March on Washington that day, I just days before my 20th birthday, he at age 24.

My parents were terrified when I told them I planned on attending the march. Though they shared the goals of the civil rights movement, they worried that the marchers would be met with violence. It’s easy to forget that many shared their fears. As it turned out, August 28, 1963 was a joyous day in American history, and in my personal experience. As I looked around at the crowd, black and white, peaceable, upbeat, filled with strength and optimism, I knew in my heart that justice would triumph in the United States of America.

I still have my button from that day. I’ve worn it only once since then, on August 28, 2008 when Barack Obama accepted the nomination for President. None of us, not even Dr. King, could have dreamed that such a day would come within the lifetimes of many of us. There is much to be done before full equality for all is achieved, but the distance we have come is breathtaking. I’m so proud and happy that my husband and I were a tiny part of the story. The trip to Washington for the 50th anniversary of the march is my 70th birthday present. I couldn’t have a better gift.

Judy

I was 11 in 1963 but keenly aware of the Civil RIghts movement thanks to the rector of my Syracuse, NY Episcopal church. He went to marches in the South and advocated for civil rights. Our little church, in the North, in Syracuse, was burned. That church burning probably never made it into the annals of civil rights history, because I don’t think race was every mentioned, but the timing of the burning coincided with Father Konrad’s activism. I count myself blessed as a white woman to have had this foundation of awareness laid for me in my church where I was taught about social justice.

Iconoclastic Tennis

I am sure a lot of the people who were their are turning over in their graves at the lack of civil engagement by Black people in this country. We as a people are going to hell in a hand basket. Trayvone Martin,Fedex/BMW/Bank of America fined millions for racism against Blacks,Mass Incarceration, War on Black Men (Drug),record unemployment, lowest life exceptency, The New Jim Crow…Michele Alexander, and etc.The turning back of the voter’s right act. Right now this moment in history will decide our future.

William Whitaker

Thank you for your comment, I am a 59 Yr. old Black man that grow up in New York City in the 60’s. Every day I ask what happened to our young black solders. We have forgotten and lost all our past struggles. The topic of Slavery and Injustice is now whispered.. Genderfiication is forcing Black family’s to the shelter system in Brooklyn NY and other Boro’s Joblessness and Hopeless ness are the feelings our young men are facing. I truly pray that this March will help young folks to remember just how we arrived at having Money and Fame.. Others died in the strests for you.. William Whitaker Human Rights NYC..
William Whitaker
- Sarah Davidson
  
  I agree with you…Thanks for your comments. Sarah Davidson 15 year 1963 March participant from Arkansas
  - Laura Ramirez
    
    Sarah are you planning to return to Washington next week for the 50th year Anniversary of the March? If so, any chance you could give me a call or e-mail me? I work for ABC News, New York. laura.ramirez@abc.com 212 456 2750. Thank you and blessings

Sally Morrow

I am a journalist looking for someone living in the Kansas City, Mo. area who attended the march. If you know someone, please email me at sally.morrow@religionnews.com. Thank you.

SydBillionz

Howard University Television would like to invite you to share your experiences at the
1963 March on Washington! Join us in the WHUT-TV studios (in Washington, DC) to tell us on camera what you remember about the March, what impact it had on you and what it means today. Your answers may be run on WHUT-TV during the month of August as we celebrate the 50th anniversary of the March on Washington. We will need only 15 minutes of your time.

Where: WHUT-TV,
2222 4th Street, NW, WDC 20059 (at the corner of 4th & Bryant). Parking
meters are available for coins or Parkmobile.

When: Wednesday,
July 31, 2012 from 10am-12pm and from 1:30pm-4pm.

RSVP: If
you are interested, please email your time availability to sydnye.whut@gmail.com or
call 202-806-3009. Please leave your contact information.

Hattie Angel

I was 16 years old. I worked as a volunteer with the movement. I attended the March on Washington with many others that rode the buses to be there to make history.

Kit Wilke

I was 16 and had just moved to the east coast. I remember gathering the night before in busses in New York and riding all night. We arrived and were treated to a fried chicken breakfast at a Washington DC UCC Church. Hubert Humphrey was there to shake hands. Then we marched. I remember singers, crowds, heat, smiles, and speeches. Separated and wandering around looking for shade (I was wearing a jacket and tie unlike later marches). I was standing next to one of the mobile loudspeakers near the front of the reflecting pool when a speech began talking about a bounced check…and then a dream.

Beulah Mercera

I was born on this day, exactly 100 year after the abolition of slavery on the island of Curacao and grew up engaged with the civil rights movement in the US because i attended to Dr. M. L. King school in Willemstad

john arnold

I was on the very front row in front of Dr. King, standing beside Sammy Davis, Jr. An incredible experience to be part of such an impassioned, purposeful crowd….I had heard MLK at Yale Divinity School, two days after he was released from the Birmingham Jail. He gave a very scholarly talk about Ghandi and passive resistance. Interesting contrast between an erudite scholar and a black preacher who could inspire us all.

Brenda Greene

I was a 12 years old, black, girl…in Ohio whose black parents kept me and most of my thirteen siblings sheltered from the all events of the 1960’s I saw the March on Washington in 1963 on television. I was angry that my parents did not explain the Civil Rights Movement and who Dr. Martin Luther King was and what he meant to Nation and the Civil Rights Movement. We lived in a white community with a handful of black families. It wasn’t until J F K was assassinated that I began to truely understand the seriousness of our times. I was only able to learn what the perspective of things were through the lens of my white teachers. Which was not with a broad mind views. I wish I had marched but I am thankful and greatful to those whom did oftentimes at the risk of their own life and thatof their family. I have often wondered how different life might have been if my parentshad been more direct and opened about the Civil Rights Movement as a child maybe I would have not taken my rights for granted. I was so unawear to the bloodshed. I fI forced myself too watch it on TV but did nothing as a 12 year old to help the movement for the rights of black people. Thank you for allowing me to express the loneliness of being black as a child in the North.

Candace

Hi Brenda,

It’s really interesting to hear this perspective. Will you be attending the march this year?

Rose

WABE 90.1 FM (NPR Atlanta) would like to hear from those living in Atlanta then and now to share their experiences.

Please call or email: 678-686-0311 and ask for Rose Scott or email rholmes@pba.org

David Vlahov

I was there also. I grew up in Washington, D.C. My father took my brother and me to the March. I was 11 years old. My father said that this was an important day, a day toward making things right. We couldn’t find our group so we marched with the Sanitation Workers from a southern state (I don’t remember which). We were welcomed as members. We were uplifted, energized, proud, committed, and saw more clearly the vision of equality, opportunity and justice. This was burned into my soul and has shaped my life. The struggle continues.

Erica

People like you make me have a greater appreciation for humanity. I know
there are good people of all races, we just have to meet them. Thank
you for being one of those people, God bless you!
Annette Brieger

My name is Annette Brieger, I am a producer for the washington DC ofice of ZDF German TV. Would you be open to speaking with us in an on camera interview about your memories of the march and your thoughts about the state of civil rights today? My email is: brieger.a@zdf.de
Thank you!
Sarah Davidson

David:
I came to the March as a 15 year old teenage civil rights leader from the State of Arkansas. I am looking for people to interview who attended the March who were chlildren/youth in 1963. Please call me: 240 515 5739 or send me an e-mail: sarahdavidson11@aol.com Thanks Sarah Davidson

Angella Current-Felder

Summer of 1963 I had just completed my sophomore year at Morgan State College now known as Morgan State University in Baltimore, Md. Earlier in February, I along with nearly 350 students mostly Morganites were arrested and jailed during the Northwood Theatre demonstrations and knew how important the March on Washington was to be. More importantly, my dad, Rev. Dr. Gloster B. Current, Sr. then Director of Branches for the NAACP, was one of the national organizers working collaboratively with Bayard Rustin who I believe had been hired by the reknown A. Philip Randolph and Civil Rights leaders: NAACP’s Roy Wilkins and Whitney Young and others. On the day of the March, Dad was responsible for reviewing, and if necessary editing, all speeches including SNCC President John Lewis, now The Honorable John L. Lewis and Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. speeches. According to Dad, the famous “I have a dream” segment spoken by Dr. King was not in the original speech. He recalled that while Dr. King was speaking,the famous Gospel singer, Mahalia Jackson seated on the platform of the Lincoln Memorial, shouted out:” Tell them about your dream, Martin, tell them about your dream!” Hearing her, Dr. King added the “I have a dream segment”. Concerned about our safety, Dad had my brother and I posted by a tree near the platform where we could see and hear everything and directed not to move from that spot! Thousands of people covered the grounds from the Lincoln Memorial to the Washington Monument and there were no incidences.
Despite all the accomplishments we have made over these past 50 years, we will not allow the decision of the Supreme Court or a segment of this society to turn us back to the days of Jim Crow. Too many died for the right to vote and to integrate American society. Justice will prevail!
Angella Current-Felder

rjwile

Hi Angella,
My name is Rob Wile, I’m a reporter for the website Business Insider. I’m working on a story about the March, and was hoping you might be willing to do an interview about your experience. My email is rwile@businessinsider.com. Thanks.
Annette Brieger

Hello Angella, my name is Annette Brieger and I am a producer for the Washington, DC office of ZDF German TV. I’d love to speak with you about your memories of the march and thoughts about the state of civil rights today. My email is brieger.a@zdf.de
Thanks!
Julia Pagel

Angella, I work for the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. I would love to speak with you about your experience at the March On Washington. please email me at julia.pagel@cbc.ca

Suzanne Norton Patterson

I was 19 years old and traveled to DC with the ministers and friends of an inner city church in Cleveland, OH, where I worked for the summer. We stayed over night with people in the DC area who opened their homes to those who came from out of town for the March. I remember being part of a huge crowd, black and white, that was full of energy and purpose, excitement and wondering what would happen. As we marched, I remember singing “We Will Overcome” and meaning it. When Dr. King spoke from the Lincoln Memorial, we were fairly close near the reflecting pool on the right side as you look toward the Memorial. There were loudspeakers, but we could hear nothing. I heard Dr. King’s “I Have a Dream” address later on TV and have listened to it many times since. Being a part of this gathering is one of my most treasured experiences and memories.

Sarah Davidson

Suzzane:
I came to the March as a 15 year old teenage civil rights leader from the State of Arkansas. I am looking for people to interview who attended the March who were chlildren/youth in 1963. Please call me: 240 515 5739 or send me an e-mail: sarahdavidson11@aol.com Thanks Sarah Davidson

Paul B. Johnson

I’m Paul B. Johnson, reporter for The High Point (N.C.) Enterprise newspaper. I’m looking for people who now live or once lived in the High Point, N.C., metro area who attended the ’63 march for an anniversary story. Please contact me at (336) 888-3528 or pjohnson@hpe.com by mid-August.

Ann Tares

I went to the March on Washington on a bus from Connecticut with my mother and sister. My father wanted to be with us but had to watch on tv from Connecticut because he was recovering from a heart attack. An amazing family outting.

As our bus speeded towards the capital, we saw hundreds of other buses flowing in from New England, then New York, Pennsylvania. Every highway stop was filled with more buses. As we came into D.C., very very poor people were lined along the sidewalks to watch the incoming buses – we called out for them to join us. And when the bus stopped, I realized the gathering would be huge – I later went to the largest demonstration in DC against the Viet Nam war – the govt counted that at 400,000 – but the size of March on Washington was two or three times larger, no matter what the counters said at the time. Before the time for the march towards the Lincoln Monument came, we found ourselves already moving forward, no signal, just flowing. I heard later that the leaders of the march had to run to catch up to the front of the line. We became an oceanic wave of Americans of all backgrounds from all over the country joining together and flowing towards the Lincoln Memorial for first class citizenship and equal opportunities for all citizens. At one point someone on stage asked everyone around the reflecting pool to the podiums to be quiet and asked the people hidden from view by park trees to call out. The visible part of us was already huge – but the sound from the park under the trees, so far back from the podium was loud, strong and equally huge.

I slowly moved closer to the podium past many people with United Auto Workers banners. At one point I found myself with a large group of young teens from some urban school somewhere in the country where life is tough. They started to react to me as if I were the enemy. Then they started realizing I, a white girl, was with them and we cheered each other on. I passed old white couples who seemed to have come straight from church and many other whites of all ages and backgrounds. Clearly impoverished black workers who had somehow found a way to the march. Asians. Native Americans. Latinos. People had been afraid of violence – every face showed hope and love for America’s dream of equal opportunity for every individual regardless of all the differences in the magnificent diversity of our country.

After the march, it took two more years and many deaths and imprisonments just to get a law saying all citizens had the right to vote the Voting Rights act that the
Supreme Court just gutted without any apparent awareness of the new more subtle
ways to restrict the vote in districts where people might vote Democratic… and
with ALEC creating laws to restrict fairness in so many areas from Stand Your
Ground through unfair redistricting to give unfair levels of representation to
Wisconsin’s attempts to disempower unions – laws for states written by
industries with a stake in de-regulation and privatization for states and
funding election campaigns of state politicians who promise to pass those laws
in their state House/Senate. Sorry for the Sunday rant but this “anniversary”
can remind us not just that there is a lot more to do but that there is a lot
being undone…. Shall we meet again in the spring of 2014 to honor the memory of King’s assassination while organizing his Poor People’s Campaign?

The spring before the march on Washington, I had taken my college spring vacation in Fayette County Tennessee to help lay bricks for the foundation of a community center. The CBS TV report on the arrests of people praying on the courthouse steps of Albany
Georgia had made me aware of what was happening. Then a white Quaker, Virgie
Hortenstine, from Ohio arrived at my college with the tall dark lay-preacher,
Rev. June Dowdy (a man) who told us that when sharecroppers registered to vote,
they were evicted, doubled up in the homes of former slaves who had kept
the land given to them during Reconstruction after the Civil War. And when
those homes filled up and there were still hundreds being evicted, tents were
put up to house them. “Tent City” drew the world press (google “Tent City
Fayette County TN”)… but then the world press moved on to more
“exciting” events like fire hoses being sprayed at demonstrators,
police dogs attacking them, assassinations of Viola Liuzzi and the young black
boy she gave a ride to (and got killed for her kindness), Edgar Medgars, two
New Yorkers Schwerner and Goodman and their black Mississippi co-worker Chaney
and so many of the nameless shot and lynched. The people of Fayette and Haywood
Counties (with a high percent of African Americans because during the Civil
War, many plantation owners moved their slaves to this rural area.)

Rev. June Dowdy told us students to “Put your body where your mouth is” and I signed up to go during spring vacation plus a few days. As we gathered each morning in Somerville,TN, we could see sunlight sparkling on the gun pointed at us from a window of ashack. We were told it was manned by the Klan, doing the bidding of the
wealthier members of the White Citizens Council who wanted to keep their hands
clean and use the poor whites as their attack dogs.

I met incredibly courageous people – sharecroppers who were dirt poor, rented shacks to farm the land and risked everything to try to become “first class citizens”
despite Southern Jim Crow laws making them very second class. They kept
registering even when they knew the White Citizens Council would evict them
from their homes because they dared register to vote and they would have no way
to support or shelter themselves and their families. I also met the leaders who
galvanized the courage: John and Viola McFerren, Square Morman and others.

You can google “Tent City Fayette County TN” or go to: benhooks.memphis.edu/‎
(a research center dedicated to advancing the understanding and pursuing the goals of the American civil rights movement)

rjwile

Hi Ann, my name is Rob Wile, I’m a reporter for the website Business Insider. We are working on a story about the anniversary, and wanted to see if you’d be willing to do an interview about your experience. My email is rwile@businessinsider.com. Thanks.
Julia Pagel

I work for the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. I would love to speak with you about your experience at the March On Washington. please email me at julia.pagel@cbc.ca

Cynthia L. Lewis

I was 6 years old, my parents took us (Cynthia, Creston, Daryll and Ray) with my Uncle Porky. We thought it was just a big outing, my Mom fried chicken and we had sandwiches and soda in our car. I was not allowed to use the bathroom in a restaurant, still young, but I remember.

ndb_USA

I was a college student and was working during the summer at a lab at NIH. My The lab tech I worked with took me with him. He was responsible for my “education” about what life was like for African-Americans in the 60’s. My mother was terrified there would be violence but I went anyway. I have pictures of Pennsylvania Ave. with not a car or bus on it. It was a glorious day – I have always been proud to have been there. One thing I will always remember – I didn’t have a button but when I was walking up the street after the March I passed a bus of union workers who had come and one of them heard me say I didn’t have one and she got me one. Don’t know what happened to it but that was just one of the wonderful memories I have of the day. What a thrill to have worked on both of President Obama’s campaigns and to see how some of Dr. King’s “Dreams” have come true.
Nancy Briggs

Lyda Peters

I was born in 1943 and grew up in an apt on 159th St in NY. When I was 13, my mom & I moved to Boston but every summer I came “home” to work with my aunt at a day care center. It was the summer of 1963 and I was 19. My aunt’s friend bought 2 train tickets for what he called “a march on Washington.” He purchased them, he said, because he was sick and tired of not having a fair chance in life. He said he had to work but wanted us to have these tickets and go in his place. We did. He said he wanted someone there to represent him and his mother. We boarded the New Haven and Hartford Railroad from Grand Central Station, found two seats, and as we moved towards DC, at every stop there appeared to be hundreds of people joining us. They sat on the floors, doubled up in seats, and the train was filled to capacity by the time we got to D.C. People sang, talked about hope, and I was in awe. I had no idea that history was about to be made and we were part of it. When the train stopped, I saw so many people leaving my train. We were joined by so many from other trains. We walked out of the station to what appeared to be a staging area where, again, thousands of people were converging. There were buttons to put on, signs to hold, and people giving directions. There was such order and calmness around us in this enormous crowd of people. We were told to start walking and to follow those in front of us. We did and as this happened, people began talking to each other – joyfully – about the march, its purpose – a better life – things are gonna change. I remember being excited and knowing that something special was happening. We seemed to walk for eternity but no one was tired. When we got near the Monument, you could look up and see people in trees, and hear (but I couldn’t see), the words of people speaking about civil rights. It was the most memorable time in my life. I returned to D.C. in 2008, by car this time, with my two daughters, a niece, and my granddaughter. I wanted them (and me) to be part of this history, too, as we walked the route to the inauguration of America’s first Black president. That March on Washington started me on a road to civil rights and I’ve never turned back. I want to return 50 years later with my granddaughter and grandson to be part of this history, too.

Sarah Davidson

Lyda:
I came to the March as a 15 year old teenage civil rights leader from the State of Arkansas. I am looking for people to interview who attended the March who were chlildren/youth in 1963. Please call me: 240 515 5739 or send me an e-mail: sarahdavidson11@aol.com Thanks Sarah Davidson
Julia Pagel

Lyda, I work for the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. I would love to speak with you about your experience at the March On Washington. please email me at julia.pagel@cbc.ca
Melissa Mitchell

Thank you. I was born in 1969. My mother is white and my father is black and I think of that day as a day that things changed for my parents and allowed my existence. I am so grateful for all the eloquently written remembrances. Thank you for sharing.

derekpatton19

I was 12 and took a bus from Baltimore with the Quakers from Homewood Friends meeting. Anyone else out there in this group. Prayers to Mr Ramer from Baltimore Friends school who lead another large bus of children as a leader in CORE.

adudash

We are looking for people to talk with who attended the original march and are from the Durham/Chapel Hill N.C. area. Please contact Durham Herald-Sun reporter April Dudash at adudash@heraldsun.com or 919-419-6646 if you’d like to talk about your experiences. Thanks so much for your help!

Ujimanell

I was planning to attend until I see you are going to be highlighting Obama. Given Obama’s lack of commitment to racial justice, the worsening condition of black america under his policies and his frequent public chatizing black Americans in a way that he doesn’t chatize other groups — I think it is hypocritical to allow him to make political hay off this anniversary – because so much of what he stands for ( the wars, the secret surveillance, the cutting of support for poor and elderly) is in direct opposition to the Civil rights movement of 1963. As a black person from that era — how could you?

Janey Tate

I am a reporter from the Bradenton Herald in Manatee County, Fla. I am looking to interview people from this area who attended the March on Washington. If you were there or know anyone who was there, please feel free to contact me at jtate@bradenton.com or call 941-745-7041. I would love to share your story! 😉

Don Daiker

March on Washington

August 28, 1963

Yes, I attended the March on Washington on August 28, 1963. I wish I could say that I had traveled across the country to participate, but that’s not the case.

At that time I was a graduate student pursuing a doctoral degree in English at Indiana University in Bloomington. My wife, Vicky, also a grad student in English, and I were spending a vacation week in Kensington, Maryland, a Washington D. C. suburb, with Vicky’s parents and with our eight-month-old daughter Pamela. Before leaving Bloomington, we had made arrangements with two friends, one an English grad student like us, the other an undergrad, to meet in downtown Washington on the day of the March.

But when we asked Vicky’s mother to take care of Pamela so that Vicky could attend the March, her mother categorically refused, saying that she would not do anything to support that “racist” Martin Luther King. Vicky and I were surprised; we had not heard her mother make such nasty or bigoted comments before. So Vicky had to miss the March. Her father, a lawyer who worked for the federal government, urged me not to attend as well. He was sure that there would be violence and I could be injured or arrested.

The bus I took downtown from Kensington was mostly empty, and the downtown streets were deserted when I arrived at about 9 a.m. I had been told that all government workers were advised to stay away, and that certainly seemed to be the case. I had no trouble meeting up with my Indiana friends. But crowds started to arrive soon after and converged on the mall.

My central memory of the day is one of jubilation and celebration. We were all happy! Everything was upbeat! We were all on the same side together. God, it felt good to be there! It was especially enjoyable to hear Peter, Paul, and Mary performing for the crowd. And of course Dr. Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech in front of the Lincoln Memorial was the high point of the day. We all left in a happy, celebratory, almost triumphant mood. Things will change for the better now!

But that night Vicky and I attended a concert at Wolf Trap. Peter, Paul, and Mary were performing again, along with Odetta and Peter Nero, but this time you had to pay to hear them. When Mary spoke to the crowd of concertgoers about her pride–Peter’s and Paul’s too–in having performed earlier that day at the March, there was only a light scattering of applause. Most of the suburban upper-middle-class whites attending the concert obviously had little sympathy for what had happened in the city earlier that day.

Don Daiker

Oxford, OH

daikerda@miamioh.edu

Lea Adams Ashby

Thanks for your candid reflection on the March on Washington. I, too, recall that the perspective of “average” DC area residents — government workers of both races and “white” suburbanites — was one of fear, ranging from apparent apathy to racist hostility. It’s interesting how we so often “clean up” our memories to rewrite America’s struggle to fully embrace “all men (and women) as brothers (and sisters).” It’s important to speak truth, not only to power, but to ourselves and our children, who will otherwise believe in a myth instead of a real nation of flawed but mostly hopeful people.

Valerie Stewart-Daniels

I was 12 years old but watched it on our black and white television with the rest of my family my mother feared us going due to we might get lost. We lived on 12th and Maryland Ave N.E Washington D.C. I wonder if we know each other Denice ?. It was awesome standing on my front porch watching the buses and cars travel to and from the march of all races but mostly blacks. We watched as if I eyes were glued to the television as if he was our God, our Priest, Savior and our Father was talking to all of us and we must pay him some attention.
At the same address we also witness the horror of the announcement of his death how the H St. N.E corridor stores and some of the community was burned down people through out the streets were crying and screaming as if our savior was taken away. Our mom kept us close in the house as the event took place not far from the capitol.

Norma

I was there and on August 28th I will proudly wear the button I wore 50 years ago!
I was 17 and going off to college the next week. My parents bought me a bus ticket and I went alone because they had to work. This was my second March on Washington. The first one was in 1958 and there were only a few hundred people there. My expectations were low I realized that this March would be different because of the huge number of buses on the highway headed to Washington from the north. Even though i came alone, i was not alone there I ran into friends and sat with strangers who became my friends I was thrilled at the immense crowds, the spirit, and the amazing speeches.
It was a perfectly wonderful day.

dctony

I was only 10 years old, and was not really sure what was going on. So, off I walked from midtown DC to downtown rally area. Yes, walked because there was no subway just buses. The huge crowds scared me, but I stayed around long enough to hear Dr.King.

Michael Schachter

I worked with student supporters of SNCC (Student
Non-Violent Coordinating Committee) in the office on Fifth Ave. in NYC. Several times I went up to 135th St. March on
Washing HQ in Harlem to help with mailing and met Mr. Rustin, a main organizer.
My aunt, Trudy Orris, helped organize a bus going down to DC and I was on that
bus. Getting off in DC I was almost
pushed by the crowd of thousands down Constitution Ave. towards the Lincoln
Memorial, hearing the music of Joan Baez and the Freedom Singers along the
way. I listened to the speeches and
especially to John Lewis (speaking for us young SNCC workers). When Dr. King spoke, I knew that his words
would be remembered for their power and eloquence. Heading back home the New York, our bus
stopped at a Maryland gas station and someone came out with a gun, shouting “We
don’t want you kind here.”

Then even the thought that we would have a black president
was beyond belief. I thought that when I
retired I would be talking about my experience in the Civil Rights and Anti-War
movements as history to the young folks of today, but I did not expect to have
to still be actively involved in a new movement still around this same issues.
The voter suppression (and other regressive) laws passed here in North Carolina
have impelled me and many others in the 60’s generation to come out and
actively support the Moral Monday movement.
While I knew that the struggle would have to be continuous, the current
level of reaction surprised me.

Therese M. Becker

At the time of the March I was 20 and between my junior and senior years in college. I came from a (white) working class background; my father was a union organizer. I grew up hearing about the struggle for justice for working people. There was a lot of publicity about the March. Somehow a switch went off in my head. “You do not have to be an observer of history; you can be a maker of history.” I decided to go to the March. Separately my father did also.

I remember the train leaving in the dark early morning hours at the Hartford Connecticut train station. My friends and I brought food with us, not being sure how we would find food in DC.

One of the most memorable sights for me that day was the Mississippi delegation, marching smartly into the crowd.

It seemed that it was at the end of the program that Dr. King spoke. I remember being very tired and sitting down on the ground relatively near where the speakers were up on the platform. His speech was mesmerizing. At that time I had not heard a black preacher preach, and this was impressive. I know that this seems trivial, but one of the things I remember in the speech was his reference to the red (clay?) hills of Georgia. When I drove through Georgia years later I was looking for the red soil. Many other phrases have stayed with me over the years, but I am confused about whether I remember them from that day or from reading them or hearing the speech again.

When I got back to school in the fall, I joined the Northern Student Movement in Hartford. (I was attending a small Catholic women’s college in West Hartford.) I spoke at my school about doing tutoring in the North End of Hartford, and some of the students did respond to the call. It was clear to me that the NSM was not just about offering tutoring, but also about educating us, the white folks, about who our black brothers and sisters were, AND who we were as privileged whites. I worked at the NSM headquarters in the Salvation Army full time over the summer after I graduated from college. My memory is that it was the most satisfying work I have done.

I will not go on and on, but want to say that issues of race have been a deep thread throughout my life. My first masters degree was taken at NYU under Dr. Jeanne Noble. The concentration was in group dynamics and race relations. Later I became a machinist at at Caterpillar Tractor plant in San Leandro, CA in the 70’s and with others fought for more minorities in their apprenticeship program. I worked in the anti-apartheid movement. When I became a professional chaplain (after going to seminary, graduating when I was 50), and I trained chaplains, I integrated the issue of race and racism into the curriculum. Recently I completed a third masters degree, in counseling, and my final project was a paper on race-based traumatic stress. Later I was able to arrange a speaker on the topic for a Kaiser Permanente diversity conference. (I have just retired from KP.)

So the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom had a profound impact on my life. The button from the March will be passed on to my son and his children. And I am very proud to say that my son is now a lawyer and does anti-discrimination law in a law firm in Oakland CA.

I will be there for the anniversary.

Keyla F

Hi, our names are Keyla & Michelle, and we are students working on a documentary based on The March on Washington. We were wondering if you’d be willing to contact us so we can interview you.?

Email: kkflores15@gmail.com

Joan JustissTynes

I was 16 when ! attended the March on Washington. I grew up in a middle class Negro home.

ktt

I was almost there. I was 11 years old. My father, Richard W. Taylor, had just started his sabbatical leave from Coe College (Cedar Rapids, Iowa), spending the year as Friend in Washington for the Quaker organization Friends Committee on National Legislation. He had come intending to work promoting arms control and disarmament, but when Medgar Evers was killed in June, the focus of his efforts changed to civil rights legislation. He spent the whole year building support among senators to overcome the inevitable filibuster. But on 28 August, both of my parents, my older brother, and I went downtown to participate in the march. My parents were uncertain about the possibility of violence, and so (although my older brother got to participate!) I was deemed too young and was left behind in the FCNL building, with the consolation of a job–to answer the phones if anyone called asking for information. No one did. I spent the whole march riveted to the radio, and so I heard it all from about 1/2 mile away. Not quite the same as being there! My father died in October 2012, and at his memorial we included all his diaries and memorabilia–programs, buttons, flyers–for the March and other civil rights events from that year. It was the defining year of his lifetime devotion to peace and justice for all people.

Sarah Davidson

I was a 15 year old president
of the North Little Rock NAACP Youth Council when I came to the 1963 March on Washington.
I came with a bus of adult civil rights and religious leaders and three of my
NAACP Youth Council members. We were
marching to share the dream that every
American is entitled to equal rights as defined in the US Constitution. During
that time, we were treated as second class citizens and I did not buy that
perception. I attended a segregated
high school. I was forced to sit in the
back of the bus and drink from a separate water fountain. You could say that I was an angry teenager
who knew that I, along with all African Americans, had the inalienable rights
to be treated as a first class citizen in America. Yes, I had to be at the
March to say with the 250,000 plus people in
attendance, “No more, America, No more America, the color of one’s skin does
not merit second class treatment. The
most memorable part of that day was the part of Dr. King’s speech where he
challenged those of us from the South to go back home to fight racial and social injustice. Even though, Dr. King mentioned Mississippi, Alabama
and Georgia and did not mention Arkansas, my state, I felt a strong kinship to
that message. Dr. King talked about the
sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners sitting together at
the table of brotherhood. It was all
about brotherhood/sisterhood and working together to make America better. I
felt that Dr. King was speaking personally to me. Fifty years later, I don’t
feel that the Dream has been actualized. Like I was challenged as a teenager,
each of us must constantly challenge ourselves as to what we can do, and what
can we teach future generations about their roles in making America better for
all people.

Susan Long

I recently learned this story about my mother and the March on Washington. My mother’s best friend told me this story. I was 7 years old and my family had just moved from Little Rock, Arkansas to Alexandria, Virginia in July. The integration of Central High School in Little Rock shaped and reinforced my mother’s views on civil rights.
I am guessing she was timid about attending the March on her own. As a mother of four young children, she didn’t have the time or resources to leave us for the day. Her friend told me she drove into Washington in the morning and approached people, asking if she could help them out by taking their dirty clothes home with her. Her plan was to wash and iron the clothes and return them the next day. August in Washington is hot. Sticky. Most people were reluctant to give her their clothes. No one could figure out a way to find each other again. Apparently, she did get some takers and returned the next day with the clean laundry. My birthday is August 29. I assume she had to get back home in time to fix my birthday dinner. I turned 8 on August 29.
I am proud of my mother for her small but determined participation in the March on Washington in 1963. Her name was Barbara Long. She passed away in March 1976 after teaching English for several years at Fort Hunt High School in Alexandria, Va.

Ruth B

My name is Ruth Bennett. My sister and I (16 and 17 at the time) traveled from San Francisco by bus with a group of Bay Area activists, artists and musicians, and one cinematographer, Haskell Wexler, who filmed our trip. The documentary, called “The Bus” is archived somewhere, and a segment is on youtube:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aNqV3ieBgMo
(About 5m36s) you’ll see two young white girls with big smiles on their faces. That’s us.)

Our parents, long-time activists themselves, sent us off knowing that the March and the trip there would be a life-changing opportunity for us. It was – what followed for me was years of commitment to movements for civil rights (demonstrations and arrests in the Auto Row sit-ins), against the war in Vietnam and in support of the struggles of working people throughout the US and the world.

I will be forever grateful to the organizers of the March on Washington – and to all the people in their hundreds of thousands who filled those huge spaces – for the impact that the march had on my life. It’s time we had such an event again. I’d be there.

Joan JustissTynes

I was 16 years old when I attended the March on Washington. I was raised Middle class and my parents taught me that religion, education and being an American was very important My life was very sheltered and I did not know about the experiences of racism. I was taught that I was an American and to be very proud of this country. My father was a minister and a history professor. He taught me that this country was founded because of religious liberty .America was a country that believed in freedoms. This was a country that was based on liberty and justice for all. I loved the movie and TV stars never realizing that they were all white. I read my school textbooks and never realized that all the characters were white.. I didn’t realize that this was racism and did not even question “Where are the Negros’?I would wonder sometimes when we traveled that I did not see many Negros and sometimes we were stared at like something in the circus. I never discussed those situations with my parents but they did stay in the back of my mind. My parents taught me about Negro History and I knew that slavery had been terrible. I also knew about famous Negro Americans. I read Ebony and Jet magazines so I knew all about the news of the Negro community. I was surrounded by Negro professionals and everyone that I knew worked. I was living in a privileged life and did not know that the bowels of racism in America were about to explode. I began to hear, read and watch TV news about the civil rights movement in the South. Television brought me to my first glimpse of the hatred and violence of Jim Crow South. I watched the burning buses with the bloodied faces, the attack dogs and water hoses, the black women being dragged with parts of their underwear being shown and the young people at the lunch counters being spit upon. This the country of sweet liberty and land where my fathers died and the land where freedom rings NOT! My parents and their friends began to talk about their experiences and we the children were shocked. I was proud of the older folks because they loved America and were proud to be American citizens even though they had suffered inhuman indignities. I was very upset and disappointed that my parents did not tell me about the existence of racism in our country. I was a Christian and I had been taught not to hate anyone this was very difficult Why did a country based on freedom do this to its citizens. . I began to hear about the march on Washington and wondered if we were going to participate in the march. I didn’t have to wait long my parents told me we were going. We started on our trip and as we got closer to DC I started seeing carloads and busloads of Negros singing, yelling slogans and waving posters. I started to get really excited and when we got there I had never seen so many Negros and whites in my whole life There were thousands of people quietly and orderly walking about the city enjoying themselves.. People were conversing, whispering, shouting, singing, just staring, crying and pointing to some of the monuments. I was born in DC so everything was familiar to me this was home but some of those people had never been to the nation’s capital. Some of the marchers had never been out of their home states People began to pass out posters and guide us to the street where we began to get in rows. I was between my father and mother and as we began to march we sang “We shall Overcome” and I began to cry. For the first time I felt like An American who was marching for a group of Americans who were not getting the freedoms that were promised and it just happened to be that I was one of those Americans. When I saw the Lincoln Memorial I really got excited because this monument stood for what was fought in the Civil War. I wanted to yell “President Lincoln here we are today trying to finish the battle that you, the abolitionists and soldiers fought for so long ago. My parents were crying and we hugged each other, because each of us understood that this was a defining moment. My father stated that this day would go down in history as a great day for freedom of Black Americans It was the first time I had ever heard my father use the term “BLACK” We were able to get close to the speakers podium and we saw A. Phillip Randolph, Roy Wilkins, Adam Clayton Powell, Harry Belafonte, Sammy Davis, Burt Lancaster, Abernathy, and Charlton Heston. I yelled out when I saw Heston, Hey “Ben Hur everyone laughed. I had read about all those people I saw on the podium and here they were marching and protesting along with me and my family it felt so good. When Dr.King started to speak it got very quiet and every eye was on him but when he began the “I Have a Dream” part of his speech people started to cry, shout, and move side to side it was such a stirring speech that when he finished I heard people say Amen, Hallelujah, Go On, Yes, and Glory Be. The march changed my life after that day I understood that there were two Americas and that each of us had to do something to change the laws of this land. I participated in some more marches and gave monies to the NAACP and the Southern Leadership Conference. I also began to study Black History and talk to young Black Americans about self-esteem and living the dream through education and involvement in their communities… I became an elementary school teacher and I had to teach my students about Black pride and how to use education as a way to be free and independent.. I became a public speaker and I always tell people that my experience at the March on Washington helped me to understand what freedom means and what we have to do to keep the doors of opportunity open. I will be attending the March this August 28th 2013. My parents are dead now but I have lived a full and rewarding life because of their hard work and belief in this country’s freedoms. We have a Black President and all those years ago nobody knew that one day this would happen. I feel that my family along with the rest of the people that attended the march in 1963 had something to do with this historical event. I hope I get the chance to see other Americans that attended the first March in 1963..

Ruth Thornton

Hi Ms. Justiss Tynes, I am deeply moved by yours and all the other comments posted here. I am presently writing a black history course for kids. Since you state that you are an elementary school teacher I would really be honored if, when I have completed writing the lessons (hopefully by January) you would be available to critique at least some of them and give me your input. If this is possible please let me know how to reach you. Thank you either way.

kenf

In 1963 I was an “enforced sabbatical” from the Univ. of Md. and
wanting to be a photojournalist. So I managed to get a job in the
Washington DC UPI photo bureau receiving and transmitting wirephotos.

On
the day of the march they gave us all press passes, so everyone was
prepared. I spent most of the day at the march, observing, taking
pictures, and just taking everything about that wonderful day in. In
many ways I felt like it was a Sunday picnic. I know now that it was
also a major turning point in the direction of our nation, and that much
that was good can be traced back to this day.

Then I had to go
start my shift at the bureau. I got there just as Martin Luther King Jr.
was starting his speech, which everyone was watching on a small B&W
tv. And all of these old white men in the office were yelling the N
word at the tv. right then and there I decided I needed a new job. A few
weeks later I was a copyboy at the Washington Evening Star, taking a
$10 cut in pay to make the move.

In the years that
followed I did witness much change for the better. Two of the bright
spots for me were Harold Washington being elected mayor of Chicago, and
of course the election of our president, Barack Obama. I am so glad that
he will be president on August 28, 2013.

Sarah Davidson

As mentioned earlier onthis site, I participated in the the 1963 March on Washington as a 15 year old teenanage civil rights leader from North Little Rock Arkansas. This article talks about my life over the years and the impact the “Jim Crow” had on my life… sarahdavidson11@aol.com
Click
here: Silver Spring woman seeks honor for slaves who built Capitol

Cheryl Jensen Wolff

my siter was ther and bought home a badge of four hands o f differnt colors

Nancy Wright

My mother is 93 years old and was at the march. She remembers that day clearly. I was seven at that time and didn’t get to go but I grew up looking at the flag from the march on our basement wall (still have it today). It was always visible and reminded me why my mother participated and what the march represented. Now, I plan to attend the march on the 28th for my mom and my family.

David Ruffin

We Stood Up at the March –
A Memoir

The 1963 March on Washington
Was a Personal Protest for Many Who Were There

by David C. Ruffin

Just before
midnight on August 27, 1963, I boarded
a special train to Washington
at Pittsburgh’s
Pennsylvania Station. The mostly black
passengers were all headed to the March on Washington called for the next day. I was home on leave from the Air Force. I had 30 days between my new assignment in Japan and the
tech school I had left at Goodfellow Air Force Base near the dusty little West Texas town of San
Angelo. I was
18.

As I walked
through the cars of the train, I recognized friends, neighbors, my favorite
uncle Bob, and some of Pittsburgh’s
more prominent black citizens. Many of
the men wore coats and ties; the women wore print dresses. Their attire seemed impractical for a march
and a day-long rally in Washington’s
summer heat and humidity, but the people on this train were on their way to
conduct serious business.

They were
presenting themselves at the seat of our government to seek redress for 350
years of racism and injustice. The June
murder of Mississippi
civil rights leader Medgar Evers was still fresh in their minds. We had all seen the televised images of young
demonstrators and freedom marchers being brutalized by white mobs and the
police. For me, taking that train to the
march seemed to be the right thing to do.

I had a personal reason too. Earlier that year, unaware that San Angelo was
segregated, I had entered a restaurant in the town only to be refused service
because of my color. The indignity of
the experience was bad enough, but it was the height of the Cold War, and I was
part of a military force that was poised to defend the Free World from the
oppressive yoke of communism. This was
what I was told in all of my Air Force training, and I believed it. Yet in this bastion of democracy, no one was
coming forward to defend my right to sit down in a restaurant, anywhere in my
own country and have a sandwich – something that every white person took for
granted.

Searching
for a seat on the crowded train, I saw a man from my neighborhood whom I hadn’t
seen since before I’d enlisted in the Air Force. About the same age as my father, he was one
of the adults who played tennis at Ammon
Recreation Center,
the location of the sole tennis court in the Hill District, Pittsburgh’s largest black community. Growing up in that working-class
neighborhood, there was always a struggle between youngsters and adults for
court time. I remember this man as on of
the more generous adults. On the train,
he was wearing a gray suit, white shirt, and knit tie; a gray straw hat with a
matching band rested in his lap as he sat there in silence. He recognized me, and I asked if I could sit
in the empty seat beside him.

After
catching up with each other’s lives, I asked him why he was going to the
march. He paused a moment. Then he began to tell me about a time when he
was in the Army and stationed in the rural South during World War II. Dressed in his khaki uniform, he had taken a
bus one day to go into the nearest town and sat in the back of the bus, as all
black people did in the segregated south in the ‘40s. After a while, the bus stopped and picked up
another black soldier, also in uniform.
The soldier didn’t move to the back of the bus, but sat in the front of
the vehicle. The white driver ordered
him to sit in the back. The soldier
refused. The driver cursed the soldier;
and again the soldier refused to move.

The driver,
flushed with anger, returned to the wheel and started the bus back on its
route. Riders came and went, and finally
the black soldier in the front of the bus rose to get off at a stop that was
little more than a crossroad. As he
descended, the driver produced a revolver and shot him in the back. The driver closed the door, walked back to my
neighbor, pushed the gun in his face and said, “Now, what you gonna do about it
nigga?” My neighbor sat as still as he
could and replied, “Nothing.” As the bus
pulled away, he looked back and caught a glimpse of the soldier’s motionless
body lying on the side of the road.

My neighbor
paused. By this time, the lights in the
train had been turned off, and most of the others in the car were asleep. The only sound I could hear was that of the
wheels rushing over the breaks in the tracks—click clack, click clack. Then my neighbor said softly, “I didn’t know
if he was dead. He looked dead. He was just left there.” He paused again. “I’ve never been able to do anything about
that. Now I can. That’s why I’m going to the march.”

We pulled
into Washington’s
Union Station early on the 28th.
The sky was sunny and blue. The
younger people from the train, including myself, decided not to wait for the
special shuttle buses to take us to the Mall where the march was to be held—we
walked. As all the marchers assembled, I
was astounded at the number who had come from all across the nation. I had never seen so many black people in my
life.

I heard the
folk group Peter, Paul and Mary sing “Blowing in the Wind.” I saw entertainers Harry Belafonte, Paul
Newman, Marlon Brando, and Burt Lancaster.
Union activists mixed with Catholic nuns in their habits. I saw the front line of the march. There I stood about 20 feet from Martin
Luther King, Jr. and A. Philip Randolph who conceived the march in 1941. There were other black leaders as well: Roy
Wilkins of the NAACP, Whitney Young of the National Urban League, James Farmer
of the Congress of Racial Equality, and John Lewis, the young Freedom Rider
we’d all heard so much about, who was head of the Student Nonviolent
Coordinating Committee. Also in the front line was Walter Reuther, the
president of the United Auto Workers. I
knew at that moment that I was standing at the center of a pivotal point in our
nation’s history.

After the
march proceeded down Constitution
Avenue, those slated to speak settled in at the
steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Perhaps
300,000 people lined the sides of the Reflecting Pool in the heat of that
August day. Sound systems back then
weren’t what they are today, and I was so far away form the Memorial steps that
I could barely hear the speeches.
Although I’m still deeply moved when I hear King’s “I Have a Dream”
speech, I must confess that I couldn’t make out much of it when I heard it
live.

When it was
all over, I walked back to Union Station with the afterglow of having taken
part in something very important. I
couldn’t find the gentle man in the gray suit I rode down with. But his recollection of a black soldier shot
in the back on a lonely southern crossroad remains my most vivid memory of the
march. He stood up for that soldier at
the march. We all did. Other black men and women in the racist South
faced daily slights and insults, were beaten, and even killed. We stood up for them too.

# # #

Suzanne Norton Patterson

Thank you!

Mike Kaufman

My father was at the march and took some color slides – I’ve just uploaded on Flickr – http://www.flickr.com/photos/96993436@N03/sets/72157635179388503/

Mitchell Zimmerman

I recall standing near the Washington Memorial before the march began, watching a group of young black guys (who I later learned were from SNCC) singing and chanting. They seemed very assertive, and they made an impression on me. The march went on for a very long time on a very hot day, and I’m ashamed to say I don’t actually remember a whole lot about the speeches. It was too crowded for us to actually make it within sight of the reflecting poor, and we couldn’t hear very well where we were when the enormous mass of people ground to a halt! I had never been to anything involving as remotely large a group of people.

I was 20 years old at the time and had just graduated from college in New York. A few months later, when I was off at graduate school, an itinerant recruiter for the 1964 Mississippi Summer project came around, and I was drawn in. I spent the Summer of 1964 mostly with SNCC in Atlanta, but also in Mississippi, and then I worked for Arkansas SNCC from 1965 to 1966. It transformed my understanding of the world.

Sarah Davidson

Michael: Please contact me. I am doing a paper on why children/youth came to the 1963 March on Washington: 240 515 5739 sarahdavidson11@aol.com

Samantha Hubbard

We are looking for people in central Missouri who were in Washington or can tell us where they were and what they remember about that day. You can reach Samantha Hubbard at 314-814-2291 or samanthadhubbard@gmail.com.

purrna2go

I was attending AU in ’63. My girlfriend & I felt this was an important historic event. We joined countless others marching down Constitution Avenue to the Lincoln Memorial. Everybody walked to the March [no Metro existed]. The speech was a call for change. We didn’t consider whether others in attendance were black or white. Dr. King’s words transcended differences, if any, that existed amongst those in attendance. The event was powerful, perhaps overwhelming. Later that year, President Kennedy’s assassination underscored the division that people felt in their lives. It was truly a painful time. There were other people who spoke at the event; Dr. King’s message imprinted as the most memorable and inspired. Those in attendance, hundreds of thousands, were looking to come together. — John Reel (posted by MK)

Bob Hyman

I was there at the 1963 March on Washington at age 16. I was already active in Civil Rights in NYC in the Queens branch of CORE. That next winter, my friends and I organized our High School to participate in the City Wide School Boycott for integration. My High School was integrated the next year. It was Francis Lewis High School in Fresh Meadows, Queens, NY. The High School was in a grossly gerrymandered school district that kept black people out. The school was mostly Jewish and we could not tolerate that injustice. I hope to meet some of those folks back in Washington to renew our efforts. I now live in Apex, NC. NC where oppression is rampant.

Sarah Davidson

Bob: I am doing research on children/youth who attended the 1963 March. Please call me: 240 515 5739 or e-mail me: sarahdavidson11@aol.com

Charles Dumas

1963 was a watershed year for our country and for me personally. Two men who had
helped transform 20th Century reality died: 1) Pope John 23rd, who had
convened the Vatican II Conference which radically changed the Catholic Church;
and 2) W.E.B. DuBois, the most profound philosopher of the Century and founder
of the NAACP died in the new African Republic of Ghana on the eve of the March. It was the year that a quarter of a million people gathered in Washington to protest racial
discrimination and demand jobs. An estimated third of those people were white.
There were other reality shattering events that occurred that year:

Before the March- the Birmingham police attacked demonstrators and arrested hundreds including Martin Luther King. It was from there that he wrote his “Letter from a Birmingham Jail”. Medger Evers, the head of Mississippi’s NAACP was assassinated in front of his house. Nelson Mandela was arrested with other ANC leaders during the
Lilliesleaf farm raid. He spent the next 27 years in prison. When he was released he was elected President in the first democratic election ever held in South Africa.

After the March- the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham was bombed
by racists, killing four little girls attending Sunday School. Nigeria, Kenya
and Zanzibar broke their colonial yokes and became Republics. There was a
military coup in South Viet Nam and President Ngo Dinh Diem was arrested and
assassinated. Both the Beatles and Bob Dylan released their first two albums. And
most profoundly a month after serving his first thousand days and three months
after the March, President John F. Kennedy was gunned down on the streets of
Dallas Texas.

I was a teenager, not yet able to vote in 63, when I boarded the train in Chicago
with our Catholic Youth Organization and thousands of others to make the trip
to Washington D.C. Not knowing what to expect I was excited and frightened. We had all witnessed the beating of demonstrators, the dogs attacking children in Birmingham, the debilitating water hoses, which crushed people against stone walls. Washington D. C. was the nation’s capital but it was still in the South.

We got off the train early in the morning after an overnight trip during which no
one slept. We had listened to stories told by the old timers and the few who
had actually participated in demonstrations. They shared their scars and their
songs. In those days, the movement survived, no thrived on freedom songs,
converted from church hymns. “Woke up this morning with my mind on Jesus,”
became “Woke up this morning with my mind on freedom.” The tree planted by the
water became a symbol for the persistence of those standing up for civil
rights.

It was an ominous beginning. We had been warned to expect anything. Some were predicting violence, Birmingham style. Some were afraid of riots. The idea of bringing 50-60,000 people (that was the original prediction) to D.C. was risky. In the early morning darkness, the station was lined shoulder to shoulder with soldiers holding rifles, some with fixed bayonets, many with gas masks attached to their belts. In the fearsome air somebody started up “This little light of mine.” It lifted the shroud of fear
and brought the sun. We exited the station into the brightest and most glorious
of days. Thousands upon thousands upon thousands filled the streets with banners and posters proclaiming freedom. There were giant ones, which required ten people to carry, and small ones held by individuals who had made the pilgrimage.

We marched down Pennsylvania Avenue to the gathering place at the Lincoln
Memorial. Everyone was singing and laughing. Strangers greeted strangers like
they were family. By the time our group had reached the Washington Monument the police and army presence had disappeared and with them the last vestiges of fear. Clearly we all understood that this was not going to be about violence or riots. Rather joy and hope ruled the day.

We were told that 250,000 people were there. Far more than anybody expected. There
were about fifty of us from our Church, St. Ambrose including two of my best
friends Ellis and Marion. The crowd was thick. There was no way we could get to the Lincoln Memorial. So we settled in about half up the reflecting pool to listen to the speeches. I put my hot feet into the cool water and drank in the moment. (I returned to that same spot in 2009 to hear Barack Obama take the oath as President. And I will
return this week to commemorate the 50th anniversary). The crowd covered all of the edges of the giant fountain and spilled out over the Washington hill and into the streets behind and there were still people coming down Pennsylvania Avenue.

History remembers King’s speech, which happened toward the end of the day. He was not one of the featured speakers, or one of the primary organizers. He had great street credibility from the successful Montgomery Bus boycott and the letter he had written fellow clergy from jail, but A. Phillip Randolph, Bayard Rustin, Walter Reuther and John Lewis, the young firebrand from SNCC, were the main ones. And, of course, the celebrities –Sidney Portier, Harry Belafonte, Paul Newman, Joanne Woodward, Bob Dylan, Peter, Paul and Mary.One of my favorite moments was when Lena Horne was introduced, she came to the microphone and screamed one word – “Freedom !”

But, in the end it really was King’s moment. His speech galvanized the crowd and transformed the “Movement”. It changed us, the quarter of a million present that day in
August and the millions if not billions who have heard it since. It altered the
direction of my life. After I returned to Chicago, I was filled with an uncontrollable restlessness. I felt called to do my part. The bombing of the Birmingham church a week later and the assassination of President Kennedy a few months after only intensified the tempest that was storming inside me. By late Spring of the following year, 1964 I was in
Mississippi, one of the hundreds of civil rights workers, who had come to register people for the Freedom Democratic Party, many of us were jailed for
their efforts, some were killed.
But, that is a story for another time.

Marsha

My parents drove down to DC from Long Island, NY with my twin brother and myself; we were nine years old. We stayed in a hotel the night before but that morning we all got up early and went to my Aunt and Uncle’s who gave us a basket of food for the day. I was too young to pay much attention to the various groups in attendance and to the speeches and singing. I remember walking in crowds a whole lot and sitting on the grass while my parents listened to the speakers. Eventually, my brother and I got cranky and kept asking to be near the water. I remember that my usually very stern parents somehow made their way to the Reflecting Pool. My brother and I were ecstatic to hang our skinny legs over the side. That, visiting my Aunt and Uncle, my parents giddy mode and staying in a hotel were, regrettably, what I remember most!

Anita B

My father was the editor and publisher of The Chicago Courier Newspaper and I was eleven years old when the March on Washington occurred. My parents and I attended and met Dr. King in the heat of a tent there. I remember walking across mud on wooden planks that had been placed in the tent since rain had been fierce the days before. It was not as impactful then as it is now, but I do recall a special feeling that came over me as I looked face to face to that precious gentlemen who was surprisingly shorter than expected. God bless all who participate and continue the struggle!

ruthcejo8

I attended the March on Washington when I was 18 years old, after having left my home in Augusta to make a life for myself in D.C. I later moved to New York, but I returned to Washington for the anniversary march which was held in August 1991 with my son, daughter and 4 month-old granddaughter.
Now 50 years later I will be marching again with Martin in the Spirit he has birthed into the nation. Ruth Ce. Jones

Raycurt Johnson

I remeber this day eventhough I was three years old. My mother had dressed My older brother and I with some cousins and paraded us throught the crownds. I have some pictures

VanWhite

Mr. Johnson would you be willing to share the pictures with me. Im putting together a book as part of this overall project.
- Raycurt Johnson
  
  Absolutly! It gives me great pleaseure to share these moments. Please stay tuned for an event I’m presenting in October. A gift to the comunity.

Joannie Weisberger

In spite of commentary warning us to stay away from the March on Washington, August 28, 1963, because it would be “dangerous” and that there would be violence, we drove to D.C. early that morning, parked the car, (it seemed like miles away) and made our way to the Mall. I was 21 years old, and was one tiny dot in a beautiful tapestry of humanity. The event was orderly and dignified from start to finish. In the pictures looking out from the Lincoln Memorial, we were somewhere on the right hand side of the reflecting pool, towards the middle. After the event, each of us cleaned up our respective area and it took us until midnight to leave D.C. as there was so much bus traffic ahead of us. Remembrances and impressions are many. Waiting for Dr. King to speak, I remember the music of Peter, Paul and Mary in the background as we spoke of our hopes and dreams. We stopped and gave full attention when we heard the beautiful voice of Mahalia Jackson. When Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke, his voice was riveting and made a connection deep within our lives. What stands out is the cameraderie of the people present, and the sense of being present, of making history at this point in time. It’s my feeling that the magnitude and the significance of this event are so momentous, that even 50 years later, it’s still hard to comprehend its full value. Since that time, I’ve done community advocacy work and made my way into teaching and mentoring in Central Harlem, where I’ve advocated for my students for over 30 years from elementary school through college. Our work is far from done. Enrichment, education and advocacy are the areas where I’ve chosen to make a difference and where my students are continuing along the path to fulfilling the promise of the “dream”, each in their own respective arena of life.

Dean Beery

It was the summer of 1963, and my girlfriend and I had spent the summer in Chicago
helping in a day camp program. There was a lot of talk in the community about a march
in Washington, D.C. for jobs and freedom. I was particularly interested in the march
because I had seen firsthand the results of racism while working a couple of years in
Chicago and had become aware of the racism I had grown up with in a small town in
Ohio. Also I knew one of the speakers was going to be Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. I had
followed his leadership in the “movement” and was inspired by his book “Stride Toward
Freedom” about the Montgomery bus boycott.
My girlfriend had to get back to a new teaching job, but I had time before my junior year
at Manchester College to take part. I signed up for a train that was headed to
Washington. It was exciting to ride out with a diverse group of people from many
backgrounds but who all had a passion for justice and equality of opportunity.
When we got to Washington, I was awed by the number of people unloading from
trains,busses and cars. It seemed like a long time to assemble, but as we did, we found
ourselves in a huge sea of humanity, all patient and friendly, many carrying signs. The
“march” was short. It was the distance from the Washington Monument
to the Lincoln Memorial. It was more of a mass movement of people.
But people were excited and boisterous as we sang freedom
songs along the way. I got about half way up the side of the reflecting pool before we
stopped because all the space ahead was
filled. People sat or stood or dangled their feet in the reflecting pool while we listened to
musicians and speakers on the stage in front of the Lincoln Memorial.
There were loudspeakers placed around the perimeter so everyone could hear. Some
people had brought along portable radios tuned to stations carrying the events of the
day. The sound from the radios were not synced exactly with the loudspeakers
because of the time of sound travel in the atmosphere.
There were cheers and applause as the program went forward and we heard from a
number of speakers. John Lewis’s speech was especially well received. But there
was an anticipation in the crowd. I could almost feel people awaiting the address of Dr.
King. What would he say? Would he be as eloquent as we had heard him on the news
and other places? When he was introduced, an electricity went through the crowd and
everyone fell silent. As he spoke people rose to their feet and punctuated his speech
with applause and shouts. He did not disappoint.
I have little memory of what happened after the long, standing ovation he received at
the end of his speech, even of my return home. But I knew in my heart that his speech
would be long remembered.
A few years later, Dr. King came to Chicago while I was teaching school there and led a
series of marches protesting unfair real estate practices. My wife and I were privileged
to take part in those marches and my wife worked the switchboard in his office. Dr.
King’s strength and love in the face of bigotry, hatred, and discrimination has been a
continuing inspiration in my life.

Joannie Weisberger

In spite ofcommentary warning us to stay away from the March on Washington, August 28,1963, because it would be “dangerous” and that there would be violence, we drove to D.C. early that morning, parked the car, (it seemed like miles away) and made our way to the Mall.
I was 21 years old, and was one tiny dot in a beautiful tapestry of humanity. The event was orderly and dignified from start to finish. In the pictures looking out from the Lincoln Memorial, we were somewhere on the right hand side of the reflecting pool, towards the middle. After the event, each of us cleaned up our respective area and it took us until midnight to leave D.C. as there was so much bus traffic ahead of us.
Remembrances and impressions are many. Waiting for Dr. King to speak, I remember the music of Peter, Paul and Mary in the background as we spoke of our hopes and dreams. We stopped and gave full attention when we heard the beautiful
voice of Mahalia Jackson. When Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke, his voice was
riveting and made a connection deep within our lives. What stands out is the
cameraderie of the people present, and the sense of being present, of making history at this point in time.
It’s my feeling that the magnitude and the significance of this
event are so momentous, that even 50 years later, it’s still hard to comprehend
its full value. Since that time, I’ve done community advocacy work and made my
way into teaching and mentoring in Central Harlem, where I’ve advocated for my
students for over 30 years from elementary school through college. Our work is
far from done. Enrichment, education and advocacy are the areas where I’ve
chosen to make a difference and where my students are continuing along the path
to fulfilling the promise of the “dream”, each in their own respective arena of life.

Dr. Tom Ellison

I was there as a 12 year old child from Birmingham, and was then and now still inspired by the event. I also attended and help to organize the 20th Anniversary and took my then 12 year old daughter and 7 year old son. The Birmingham New did a front page story with regards to my caring for some of the Movement Leaders as a professional that cared for and protected me as a child. I was here on the 24th and will march again on tomorrow.

Sarah Davidson

Dr. Ellison: Please contact me. I am doing research on chidlren/youth who came to the 1963 March on Washngton. Youth are defined as anyone under age 21 and chidlren are defined as anyone old enough to know why they attended the March. 240 515 5739 sarahdavidson11@aol.com

Rusty Gesner

I was there at age 13 with my mother. For most of my life, when I told people that Bayard was the chief organizer of the march, and the “architect of the civil rights movement,” the response was usually, “Bayard who?” It is particularly gratifying to me to see Bayard Rustin finally getting long overdue credit for the overwhelming success of this event, because he was a friend of my parents. He and my father met in Federal prison, as conscientious objectors during WWII, and after the war, Bayard introduced my parents, who gave me his name. – Bayard Rustin Gesner

Alethea Roselyn Smith-Withers

MARCH ON WASHINGTON: YES, I was there…

My mother, Mary Jo Smith, took me to the March on Washington. We traveled by train from New York. We were a part of a group of CORE (Congress of Racial Equality) from Long Island.

My family was living in Wantagh, NY and we were the first and only “colored” family in the town. My mother simply told me that she wanted me to “be a part of history.” Thank you, Mama, for the wisdom to invite me to acknowledge that my life is not a tangential to the American landscape. I matter and others who are like me matter.

I have memories of the train ride to Washington, DC. Everyone seemed to be going to DC and then when we arrived at Union Station, the train became a funnel that opened to an unimaginable sea of people! At no point could I see anything other than people, black and white. I was engulfed in a sea of humanity that floated determinedly to the Lincoln Memorial. Facing the Lincoln Memorial, we were on the left side of the Reflecting Pool. Boys, who seemed older than me… in their teens, were in the trees and everyone had their eyes on the podium. I remember the hush of the crowd… each connected by an
unspoken awareness of a common mission and the importance of their presence. Every human being mattered… black, white, young, old. More importantly, on that historic day, I learned that I have power… my presence and my voice have power!

That was a significant and life-changing lesson for a little girl in her Sunday’s best and ankle socks to learn… but that lesson and many others from that hot August day were seared into my memory!

Today, we are celebrating the 50th anniversary of the March on Washington. Over the decades, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s dream has been celebrated – ridiculed and –renounced, it is now embraced as our proud American legacy… That common hope
of “our America” is, now, memorialized by the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial
on the National Mall in Washington, DC.

Dr. King was propelled into history, against all odds, because of his faith in God, passion
to serve and compassion for all human beings. To Dr. King, justice was not an abstract idea or a theoretical construct, justice was a dream with the power to awaken the hearts and minds of millions… an enduring dream, able to summon generations unborn.

In President Barack Obama’s Inaugural address on Jan 21, 2013, he said:

“We, the people, declare today that the most evident of truths –- that all of us are created equal –- is the star that guides us still; just as it guided our forebears through Seneca Falls, and Selma, and Stonewall; just as it guided all those men and women, sung and unsung, who left footprints along this great Mall, to hear a preacher say that we cannot walk alone; to hear a King proclaim that our individual freedom is inextricably bound to the freedom of every soul on Earth. It is now our generation’s task to carry on what those pioneers began.”

President Obama and few, if any, of his generation were on the Mall on Aug 28, 1963.
Nevertheless, Dr. King offered a clarion call to them and their children… to all of our children and I believe that Dr. King’s words added fuel to the fire that burned within President Obama’s soul.

Thank you, Dr. King, Jr., for your faithfulness to God and for a message and lessons that continue to guide, direct and challenge the world.

Today, I am the pastor of the Pavilion of God, a Baptist church in Washington, DC. As we observe the 50th Anniversary of the March on Washington, and listen to speeches
and reflections of the pundits, personal stories of those who were on the Mall on that historic day, and as we consider the insights of those too young to remember but who are beneficiaries of the Dr. King’s Dream and are themselves vision casters, I ask myself and the members of my congregation to consider how are we working to make a new Voting Rights Act a reality? How are we working to pass Trayvon’s law or working to raise the minimum wage? How are we working for reproductive justice? How are we working for equitable education… marriage equality…equitable and just immigration policies… to end the death penalty… and for fair and equitable housing?

In the weeks and years to come, I pray that we all make a personal commitment to make this country one that is truly “our America.”

Shekenya knight

I went today and met a 92 year old man named William Andrew Allison. He didn’t know what metro to take so he tagged alongside of me, Shekenya Knight, and my grandmother Phyllis Busch. He told us he also marched with MLK when he was 42 years old. He still had an original poster sign and everything. It was completely my pleasure to be his tour guide today and be a part of history today. My grandfather Bobby Riddick also marched and I know he is more than happy that I met Mr.Allison today.

Marina Sullivan

Hello! My name is Marina Sullivan, and I’m a high school student in Anne Arundel County, Maryland. I would absolutely love to hear more about all of your experiences at the March and to discuss with you its legacy and impact on American history. If anyone would be willing to answer a few questions via email, I would be very grateful. Please let me know if you are interested – you can contact me via email at marinasullivan@verizon.net – and I will get back to you as soon as possible with my questions. Thank you so much, and I look forward to hearing from you!

Richard Blue

My brother, James Blue, was a filmmaker. Trained in Paris, he won a Cannes Film Festival Critics Award for The Olive Trees of Justice, a feature length film he made in Algeria during the War for Algerian independence. George Stevens, Jr. met my brother and asked him to return to the USA to work for him making films about America for the Kennedy Administration’s US Information Agency. James Blue did, and agreed to make a 32 minute documentary about race relations in America in 1963. My brother rejected a number of scripts as being untrue and not credible to foreign audiences. Stevens and Blue then decided to document The March for Jobs and Freedom Now of August 1963. This film was shown all over the world, but not seen in the USA. It gives the context, the fear of violence, people coming, staying all night and singing, and the worry that no one would show up. It documents the huge gathering, and the entire Martin Luther King Jr. “I have a Dream” speech. Who knows, Ms Tyree might be in the film.
James died in 1980 at age 49. His work has remained unknown until recently. The National Archives re-mastered the film for the 50th anniversary of the March, and screened it three consecutive days in August. The film was selected as one of the historic films by the Library of Congress. I saw the film in Agust last year. I decided his film has to be seen by Americans. That’s what I’ve dedicated my remaining years to doing. I established The james and Richard Blue Foundation to support the James Blue Archive at the University of Oregon, where James Blue earned his BA in Theater Arts. I’m also seeking funding and partners for a “Respecting Diversity” program incorporating The March and other films made by James Blue. James Blue was also a Ford Foundation Grantee.
If you want to know more, go to: http://www.jamesblue.org.