On April 4, 1968, the symbol of the movement for black equality in the United States, Martin Luther King Jr., was shot and killed in a motel in Memphis.
He died at St. Joseph's Hospital at 7:05 p.m. His assassination is met with a wave of riots in more than 60 cities. Five days later, President Lyndon Johnson declared a national day of mourning in an attempt to contain the rising tide of discontent. Martin Luther King Jr. was the first black person to be declared a national day of mourning. 300,000 sympathizers attended his funeral.
At his funeral, his favorite singer Mahalia Jackson sang his favorite song "Take My Hand, Dear God."
In late March 1968, Martin Luther King traveled to Memphis, Tennessee, where he supported striking workers. He stayed at the Lorain Motel, room 306. While standing on the second-floor balcony on April 4, 1968, he was shot at 6:01 p.m. The bullet entered his right cheek, shattered his jaw, damaged his spine, and lodged in his shoulder.
Two months later, the alleged assassin, James Earl Ray, was captured in England. A year after King's assassination, he pleaded guilty and was sentenced to 99 years in prison.
I Have a Dream
I am happy to join you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in our nation's history.
One hundred years ago, a great American, in whose shadow we symbolically stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. That momentous decree stood as a bright ray of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been burned in the flames of devastating injustice. It came like the joy of dawn after the long night of their captivity.
But a hundred years later, the Negro is still not free. A hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still crippled by the chains of racial division and the shackles of discrimination. One hundred years later the Negro continues to live on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later the Negro still languishes in the corners of American society and is an exile in his own country. That is why we have come here today to expose this disgraceful condition.
In a sense we have gathered in our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the brilliant words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they signed a policy to which every American was to be a beneficiary. That policy was a promise that all men - yes, blacks as well as whites - would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
It is evident today that America has not fulfilled the promise to pay out that policy as far as its black citizens are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred duty, America has given the Negro a check stamped "Bad.". But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice has failed. We refuse to believe that there is not enough money in the great treasuries of opportunity in this country. And so we have come to cash this check--a check that will give us the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this sacred place to remind America of the great urgency of the present situation.
This is not the time to afford ourselves the luxury of waiting, nor to accept gradual sedatives. Now is the time to make the promises of democracy a reality. Now is the time to emerge from the darkness and lonely valley of racial division. Now is the time to emerge from the darkness and the lonely valley of racial division and step onto the bright path of justice for all races. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice and place it on the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.
It would be fatal to the nation to ignore the urgency of the present situation. This hot summer of righteous Negro discontent will not pass until the reviving autumn of freedom and equality comes. 1963 is not the end, but the beginning. Those of you who hope that the Negro simply needs to let off steam and will be satisfied are mistaken. The Negro will experience a violent awakening if the nation continues to do what it is doing to hinder it.
There will be neither peace nor tranquility in America until the civil rights of the Negro are recognized. The whirlwinds of resentment will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice dawns. But there is something more I must say to my people who stand on the hot threshold leading to the palace of justice: In the process of winning our rightful place, we must not commit illegal acts. Let us not satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must always conduct our struggle with dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical violence with the strength of the soul.
The amazing fighting spirit that has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to distrust all whites. Because many of our white brothers - I testify to their presence here today - have realized that their destiny is bound up with our destiny. They have realized that their freedom is inextricably bound up with our destiny. We cannot go on walking alone.
And as we walk, we must promise ourselves that we will always march forward. We cannot go back. There are those who, knowing that we are seeking our civil rights, ask us, "When will you be satisfied?". We cannot be satisfied while Negroes are victims of unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We cannot be satisfied while our bodies, weighed down by the fatigue of travel, cannot find shelter in the motels on the highways or in the hotels in the cities. We cannot be satisfied while the Negro's movement can only be from the smaller to the larger ghetto. We can never be satisfied while our children are stripped of their self-respect and robbed of their dignity because of signs that say, "For Whites Only." We can never be satisfied while the Negro in Mississippi is denied the right to vote, and the Negro in New York feels that there is nothing to vote for. No, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream."
I understand that some of you have come here today after great trials and suffering. Some of you have come directly from the narrow confines of prison cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom has been crushed by the storms of persecution and the winds of police brutality.
You are the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that there is redemption for undeserved suffering. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.
Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. I say to you today, my friends, despite the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. I dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal." My dream is that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood. My dream is that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state scorched by the heat of injustice, scorched by the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today! My dream is one day the state of Alabama, with its terrible racism, with its governor who utters words like "interference" and "nullification" ...one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and girls will be able to hold hands with little white boys and girls as brothers and sisters.
I have a dream today! I have a dream that one day “every valley shall be exalted and every mountain and hill shall be made low; the crooked places shall be made straight and the rough places plain. And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all mankind together shall see it “(2).
This is our hope. This is the faith with which I return to the South. With this faith we will be free to hew from the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the false chords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to fight together, to go to jail together, to stand for freedom together, knowing that one day we will be free.
And that will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing, giving new meaning to the song: My country, dear land of freedom, of thee I sing, land where my fathers died, land of pilgrim pride, from every mountainside let freedom ring. And if America is to be a great nation this must become a reality.
And so let freedom ring from the stunning peaks of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heights of Pennsylvania. Let freedom ring from the snow-laden cliffs of Colorado. Let freedom ring from the beautifully shaped slopes of California.
And not only that. Let freedom ring from the rocky mountain of Georgia. Let freedom ring from the Lookout Mountains of Tennessee. Let freedom ring from every hill and ridge of Mississippi. From every mountaintop let freedom ring.
And when that happens, when we let freedom ring, when we let it ring in every village and hamlet, every state and every city, we can hasten the coming of that day when all of God's children, black and white, Jew and Gentile, Protestant and Catholic, will be able to join hands and sing the words of the old Negro spiritual: Free at last! Free at last! Glory to Almighty God, we are free at last!