Tallahassee, Florida

            On the way from Atlanta to Tallahassee, I contemplated all that I knew about Florida. I had been there several times over the course of my life, but I usually went to the Orlando area, or at least close by. The last time I visited was with Rob, who is also my companion on this journey. We drove down from New Jersey in the summer of 2012 and visited Orlando, Tampa, and Daytona Beach, and we had a wonderful time. Despite having been to Florida several times, I have never been to Miami or the Keys, and I have never been to the capital city of Tallahassee. I was excited to visit a new town in a familiar state.

            Tallahassee is not only the capital city, but it is also home to Florida State University (FSU). I am a huge fan of college towns, namely because of the wondrous variety and increased economic competition that comes with a large influx of people from other places. Also, people tend to be incredibly friendly in college towns, not only because many of them were visitors at one point themselves, but also because they want tourists to come back. At any rate, I was looking forward to it.

            Florida is one of the states whose recorded history begins with colonization by the Spanish rather than British. Actually, both the Spanish and the French attempted to colonize present-day Florida, but the Spanish rule of the region prevailed, largely with widespread Roman Catholic missions among the native populations. Florida was home to an estimated 350,000 native people before the Spanish arrived, and they belonged to a wide range of tribes. The European relationship with the natives was violent and peaceful at different times, and one of the reasons that the early French colonies failed was the natives attacked them persistently. Until the late 1600s, the Spanish remained largely unchallenged in their control over the southeastern part of what would become the United States, but the British were expanding their territory in the north, and the French were exploring the area around the Mississippi River valley to the west. Soon, the colonies of different nationalities began to clash, and there was a rise in violence around the unofficial borders. At the conclusion of the Seven Years War (1756-1763), the British obtained Florida from Spain in exchange for Havana, Cuba, but just a short time later at the end of the American Revolution, Spain regained Florida for indirect help to the Americans.

            As soon as the British left, Americans, Spaniards, and escaped slaves began to flood into the region. Over time, it became apparent that the area was becoming increasingly more “American” than Spanish, and Spain officially ceded Florida to the United States in 1821. Later that year, Andrew Jackson visited the region to establish a territorial government on behalf of the US. Tallahassee became the official seat of government in 1824, and it has remained so ever since.

            In the late 19th and early 20th century, the railroads brought economic prosperity. The agricultural industry, largely citrus, boomed as the fruits could now be shipped north on the train. Tourism blossomed, and with it more and more money poured into the region. As early as the 1870s, Florida gained intense popularity as a vacation spot among Northerners and Midwesterners. In this way, the agricultural industry and the tourist industry has been the foundation of Florida’s economy for over 100 years. One could even go so far as to say that Florida’s greatest asset has always been its land and climate, and its natural resources have remained its main attraction and moneymaker throughout its history.

            I was certainly excited to enjoy the beautiful weather. I had been staying one step ahead of winter for weeks, but I knew that the warmth would be short-lived, as I would be heading northward to Virginia in less than 2 weeks. I was determined to revel in every moment of sunlight that I could. Unfortunately, the universe did not seem to be conspiring in my favor, since I was coming down with a cold. Hopefully, I wouldn’t get too sick, because my schedule was not exactly flexible.  

            I stopped about halfway on the long drive through Georgia [my gosh, is Georgia a tall state!], to get some Mexican food just off of the highway. It was a locally owned place, and I have to admit that I was a bit skeptical given the location, because it was surrounded by fast food restaurants. Nonetheless, I decided that it was better than a cheap burger, so I parked and hurried in through the chilly evening breeze. I was seated promptly in a booth just a few feet from the door. The restaurant was larger than I expected, and it seemed to be a popular place for families, as many of the occupied tables had at least one kid in the group. I ordered a burrito, which came pretty quickly, and I enjoyed it very much. It is so satisfying to have a good meal during a long drive, and its sustenance got me through the next three hours.

            I arrived at the hotel late in the evening and after checking in, I collapsed into slumber almost immediately. The following morning, I woke up feeling dreadful, and I knew that it was going to be a long day. I had a slight fever, a nasty cough, and a runny nose, but I had no other choice than to go to the Capitol anyway, because the next day I had to drive 6 ½ hours to South Carolina. I showered, took some cold medicine, and stuffed my pockets with tissues before setting off to do my research.

            When I first arrived downtown, I went to the Atomic Café to get some coffee and breakfast. I noticed online that they had Taylor Ham (a.k.a. pork roll), which is a breakfast meat that is usually only found in New Jersey. Florida, along with the rest of the east coast, has many New Jersey transplants, so it wasn’t too surprising that someone had brought the glory of Taylor Ham to Tallahassee. It was comforting to enjoy one of my own state’s favorites, and I was beginning to feel that I was getting closer to home. The coffee and breakfast sandwich were delicious, and I felt revived enough to get through the next few hours of exploring the Capitol.

When Florida outgrew its traditional, domed Capitol, the state built a skyscraper just behind it. It contains the executive and legislative branches, while the Supreme Court resides in another building close by. Although I understand the logic of building a skyscraper that is much more efficient and has more office space, I have noticed that it is not necessarily representative of its state in its design. In fact, many news sources have used a picture of the old, traditional Capitol complete with striped awnings alongside articles about Florida’s state government.

When I arrived, I spent several minutes trying to find parking around the building. Eventually I found a public parking garage across the street, and I walked over to the current Capitol to start. A dolphin statue and fountain dominates the front steps of the building, and the sun reflecting off of the metallic structures blinded me for a moment as I captured the scene. I walked up the stairs and entered the building, picking up a self-guided tour book on my way in.

I began by the enormous state seal on the main floor of the building. The Governor’s office was just down the hallway, along with many tributes to important people from Florida, including men and women lost in combat, law enforcement, and firefighters. There was also a display honoring artists, musicians, and writers from Florida including Ernest Hemingway, Tennessee Williams, and Jimmy Buffett. There was a small, non-denominational chapel on the main floor. It was decorated with sea glass and rich wood, and the thick door made it a peaceful sanctuary in an otherwise bustling building. I loved the feeling of calm tranquility that the room provided, and I took a moment to absorb it before continuing on my journey.

The legislative chambers were several floors above, so I took the elevator. As soon as I stepped out, I noticed how quiet it was compared to the main floor below. Since the legislature was not in session, there wasn’t really anyone around. I walked over to the House Chamber first, and luckily for me someone had left the door to the media’s gallery open, and I was able to get a few good pictures of the modern room. It had a rich blue carpet, and a white domed ceiling, with many different murals and portraits surrounding the representative’s desks. I wished that I could have gotten a closer look at them, but unfortunately the main floor is not open to the public.

When I ventured over to the Senate side, I was disappointed to find that all of the gallery doors were locked, so I could only peer in through the glass wall. Because of the fluorescent lighting in the hallway reflecting off of the glass, I couldn’t get a clear picture of the chamber from where I was. The final room of interest in the current Florida Capitol was the observation deck, which was on the top floor. The large room gave a panoramic view of Tallahassee, with FSU to the west. I spent several minutes walking the perimeter, taking in all in. There was hardly a cloud in the sky, and I could see for miles. There were several benches tucked away in the corners of the room, and I thought how much I would love to come up here to write, read or lose myself in thought. Like the chapel so many floors below, it was a sanctuary away from the fast paced rhythm of the governmental proceedings. Half of the floor was an art gallery displaying the works of Florida artists. The current paintings were vivid and surreal works, and they were not necessarily the kind of art that I would expect to find in the Capitol. Nonetheless, I appreciated the tribute to the talent of the citizens of the state.

After looking around the current Capitol I decided to venture across the courtyard to the older building, which had been turned into a museum. It was unusually cold today, and the wind chilled me as I hurried across the stone. I entered and stopped in at the information desk to find out what the situation was. The chambers were at either end, and the rooms in the hallways had been converted into museum exhibits. The museum exhibits covered everything from territorial government and early settlement of the region to 20th century politics and controversial social issues including Jim Crow laws and McCarthy-inspired “investigations.” I have been to a few old Capitols that have been converted to museums, and this one had by far the most thorough exhibit on the history of the state government that I had yet seen.

The exhibits also included the history of the building itself. The original part of the structure was completed in 1845, but several additions were added on over the next 120 years to accommodate the growing government. The Supreme Court moved to a separate location in 1913, but even that wasn’t enough to ease the problem of space. By 1970, the building was so stuffed with staff members in every possible corner that they had resorted to setting up cubicles in the attic, so the legislature finally appropriated the funds to build a new Capitol, which they moved into in 1978. The economic recession of the 1970s might explain the efficient, less expensive style of the current Capitol building, and why there is a limited amount of decoration. The other three skyscraper Capitols, Louisiana, Nebraska, and North Dakota, were all completed during the Great Depression in the early 1930s when there were even less available funds, so money was definitely a factor.  

Each of the chambers had large windows that let in lots of sunshine, and they are still furnished with the original furniture. Today, they use these rooms for large gatherings, or other functions. I couldn’t help but prefer the wood accents, pale paint colors, and natural light to the fluorescent classroom feeling of the chambers in the current Capitol, although I understand that practicality sometimes overrules aesthetic appeal. There was also the Old Supreme Court Chamber, which had a similar style to the legislative chambers. Out of the all of the rooms, I particularly enjoyed the old Governor’s office, which has been set up to look like it would have when it was still in use, complete with original furniture. The Governor had the luxury of a three-room suite for his office, including one for his secretary and a conference room with a large table.

The old Capitol was very nice, and it was especially convenient that it was located on the same city block as the current Capitol. It was interesting to see the contrast between the two buildings, and it allowed some comparison between the different styles. Although the traditional, domed Capitol is more aesthetically appealing, the skyscraper Capitol had some clear benefits. Although it wasn’t as decorative, it had much more office space and the observation deck, which was really nice. I also really liked the ‘chapel’ in the new Capitol, which gave staff members and visitors a place to reflect.  On my trip so far, this building is only the second one to have a ‘chapel,’ the first one having been in Indiana. 

By the time I finished looking around, I was beginning to lose some steam, and my coughs were starting to attract concerned looks from other visitors, so I decided it was best that I go back to the hotel and relax. I enjoyed what I had seen of the Capitol complex, but I didn’t want to prolong the illness and to recover, I needed to take it easy. I went back to the hotel and made myself a quick meal, and rested for the remainder of the evening.

The next day, I woke up feeling a little better, and I began packing up my things. I was disappointed that I could only stay in Florida for two nights, but that's the nature of my trip. I enjoyed seeing the Capitol buildings, and learning more about Florida history. Now, it was time to drive to Columbia, South Carolina, so after getting a quick breakfast, I hit the road and drove on.

Atlanta, Georgia

After a short drive from Montgomery, I arrived in Atlanta eager to explore one of the biggest cities in the Southeast. It was Saturday night, and I decided to go to a Japanese restaurant near the hotel. I ate my sushi happily, thankful to be settled in a new state for several days. After dinner, I located the hotel, checked in, brought in my massive haul of luggage, and collapsed into tranquility.

The next two days were going to be relatively low-key. It was Veteran’s Day weekend, and the Capitol building was closed. Despite that, on Monday I ventured out to explore part of the Martin Luther King Jr. National Historic Site. It included his birthplace, a museum, his and his wife’s grave, and Ebenezer Baptist Church, where Martin Luther King Jr. was baptized and later preached as a minister. It was located fairly close to downtown, and after a late lunch, I was only able to see a few things before they closed for the evening.

First, I visited the memorial where Martin Luther King Jr. and Coretta Scott King have been laid to rest. The site was situated in between the Ebenezer Baptist Church and his childhood home further up the street in a large courtyard. As I walked up, I was touched by the care that has been taken to ensure a peaceful resting place. The grave stood on a platform surrounded by a long reflecting pool that spans from the gravesite to the Freedom Center on the other end of the courtyard. Although it was just a short distance from the street, the courtyard felt very peaceful, as though the chaos of the city could not penetrate its boundaries. Across the walkway from the gravesite was an eternal flame, placed there to represent the everlasting effect that the Kings have had on the world.

There were no more tours of the King home available for the rest of the day, so I decided to visit the church, which was open to the public. When I entered, I greeted the gentleman inside, who told me that I was welcome to go upstairs and stay as long as I liked. I thanked him, and climbed to the second floor, where the congregation room was. When I entered, I felt the aura of serenity that is usually present in churches. It was after four in November, and the setting sun beamed golden light through the stained glass windows. The room felt as though it had borne witness to many years of struggle, growth, and faith, and I was merely one of many thousands that had entered those doors. I obviously had never met the people who helped Martin Luther King Jr. become the man that he was, but standing there, I felt as though my connection to King grew stronger.

I decided to come back the following day to take a tour of King’s birthplace and childhood home, and take a look in the museum. There were a lot of things to see at the Martin Luther King Jr. National Historic Site, and I wanted to take my time to absorb everything. I decided to buy food for the next few days at grocery store close to the hotel, and I spent the rest of the evening making dinner, planning future stops of the trip, and working on blog posts.

The next day I returned earlier in the day and went into the museum to reserve a free ticket to tour King’s childhood home. The gentleman behind the desk told me that the next tour is full, but if one of the ticket reservations didn’t show up for the tour, I could squeeze onto the next one. I had to wait for a few minutes, so I looked around the museum. The exhibits traced MLK’s life from birth to assassination, and there were several stories that I had never heard before. One of the stories that stood out to me was when King was stabbed with a letter opener while autographing his new book about the Bus Boycott, Stride Toward Freedom. He was in a crowded Harlem department store when a crazy woman attacked him. The surgeon later told him that the point was pressing on aorta, and had he sneezed while waiting for surgery, he would have died.

One of the other more famous incidents in MLK’s life was in 1963, when King’s Southern Christian Leadership Conference organized widespread, public protests throughout Birmingham, Alabama. Thousands of people began staging sit-ins and other displays of non-violent defiance, and the police responded by using high-pressure water hoses and police dogs to fend off the protestors, including on women and young children. Images of the violence that were released by the media shocked people throughout the country, and many were disgusted with the way that police responded to the protests. The SCLC was unwavering in their advocacy of nonviolence, but there were some individuals that retaliated to police aggression, and they were met with even more drastic attacks. During the Birmingham protests, MLK was arrested, along with Ralph Abernathy and others. It was during his time in solitary confinement, that MLK wrote his famous, “Letter from Birmingham Jail” in which he eloquently expressed the importance of nonviolent protest against injustice, no matter where it occurs, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”

The back wall of the museum outlined the timeline of events during the Civil Rights Movement, starting with the beginning of the Montgomery Bus Boycott in 1955 to his assassination in April 1968. During these thirteen years, King traveled 6 million miles, spoke over 2,500 times, and was the youngest man to win the Nobel Peace Prize. He wrote five books, shook hands with two Presidents, and was named Time Magazine’s Man of the Year. Most people do not accomplish half of what Martin Luther King did during the Civil Rights Movement in their whole life. He was an exceptionally compassionate individual, and this site in Atlanta did an amazing job of honoring his life and his contributions to the betterment of society.

The gentleman behind the counter motioned to me as I emerged from the museum, and he told me that the tour was about to start in a few minutes, and he didn’t think that there would be many others coming. He handed me a ticket and directed me to the house just up the street. As I hurried over, I saw that it was a large, tan house with brown trim. The gift store was in the house next door, and that was where the tour was supposed to start. I found a seat in the front room and waited as other visitors gathered for the tour. A short while later, the tour guide arrived. First, we all introduced ourselves and said where we were from, and then we all got up and walked next door. There was an inviting, covered front porch that shielded the door from the sun, and we all gathered outside while the guide asked the group not to take any photos of the inside, or inadvertently bump against anything. The guide was a very boisterous older gentleman whose personality came through in every sentence he spoke. I could immediately tell that I was going to enjoy the tour.

This was home to Martin Luther King, Sr. and his wife Alberta Williams King, and their three children Willie Christine King, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Alfred Daniel Williams King. As a child, Martin Luther King Jr.’s family called him ML. The tour began in the front of the house, where our guide set the scene for the formal sitting room. This was generally the part of the house where the children were not allowed to play, because the nicest of the family’s possessions and furniture typically resided in the sitting room, where the parents would entertain guests. This room was also where the children were supposed to take piano lessons, which was not one of their favorite pastimes. Like many little boys, ML greatly preferred playing outside to learning how to play piano.

The tour continued into the dining room, which was set for Sunday dinner. Children were supposed to wear their church clothes, and they all ate dinner in the mid-afternoon as a family. Here is where ML told his father that his friend, who was white, wasn’t allowed to play with him anymore because he’s black. This was a defining moment in ML’s life, and would be one of the many injustices that would motivate him to become a civil rights activist. King, Sr. was also very passionate about social injustice, and refused to accept the inequality. When ML was young, he was riding in a car with his father when a police officer pulled them over. The policeman called King, Sr. “boy” and King pointed to his son, saying "This is a boy, I'm a man; until you call me one, I will not listen to you." His father’s beliefs and refusal to accept an unjust system shaped ML’s conscience, and definitely contributed to the man he became.

The kitchen, bathroom, and smallest bedroom were all on the first floor. It would take a full day to do the laundry for this family. ML’s chore was tending the house’s coal furnace, a chore he greatly preferred to washing dishes. The bedroom downstairs belonged to ML’s older sister Willie Christine, and it had a couple of dolls and feminine décor. The group filed upstairs to look at the boy’s room, the parents’ room, and the room where ML’s grandmother, Jennie Celeste Parks Williams lived until her death in 1941. She would read to her grandchildren often, and was a consistent caregiver throughout their childhood. The rooms were spacious and the boy’s bedroom has a mess of toys spread across the floor, for accuracy’s sake. It was very interesting to see the King’s home as it would have looked when King, Jr. was growing up.

After the tour, I returned to the hotel for the evening. The next day, I was going to visit the Capitol before driving to Tallahassee. After waking up, packing up all my things, and checking out, I drove downtown.

When I first arrived, it took me a while to find parking, which I did in the pay lot across the street. I walked inside, presented my ID, and complied with the other procedures. The security guard directed me to the information desk, which was right next to the Governor’s office. On my way there, I noticed that the rotunda was roped off, and after seeing the renovation in Arkansas, I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to see it in all of its glory. 

After getting my book stamped at the information desk, I went into the Governor’s office to sign the guest book. I was told that if I left my name and address, I would receive a signed card in the mail a few weeks later from the Governor, thanking me for my visit. [When I returned home in early December, I found the signed and stamped card in my mail backlog.] I started talking with the two ladies in the Governor’s office, and ended up conversing with them for quite a while about everything from the road trip to the weather to amusing stories about our pets. After a while, I began to notice that there was a crowd congregating in front of the grand staircase just outside the office, and the ladies explained that it was a rally for the election for the new superintendent of one of Atlanta’s school districts. I asked them about the rotunda, and they told me that the enormous Christmas tree was going to be put up the next day, so they were getting everything prepared. Apparently the tree was several stories high, and it took the entire day to get it set up. As the clock crept closer and closer towards 5pm, I realized that I would need to begin exploring the building soon or I wouldn’t get to everything before it closed. I said goodbye and left the Governor’s office, clutching a map of the building.

I visited the House and Senate Chambers, which were almost indistinguishable from each other. The main difference was their size, the House Chamber being the largest room in the building. Oddly enough, the gallery of the House Chamber was unlocked and the main floor closed, but in the Senate Chamber, the gallery was locked and the main floor was open. It was a little bit disconcerting, but I’ve learned that every Capitol handles things in its own way, so I didn’t question it.

Although I enjoyed visiting the Capitol, I found that the building itself was not what stood out to me the most in Atlanta. The highlight of the stop was visiting the Martin Luther King Jr. National Historic Site. It was heartening to see that his life had been honored so beautifully with the preservation of his home and his church, and that MLK and his wife, Coretta Scott King, had both been laid to rest between two of the places that meant the most to their family. By visiting the historic site, I felt that my understanding and appreciation of Martin Luther King Jr. grew exponentially. 

I returned to my car as the sun began to set. It was mid-November, and it was unusually cold for Georgia. Thankful to be heading further South, I set my GPS for the hotel in Tallahassee. I appreciated what I had seen and learned about in Atlanta, but as always, it was time to move on. As the afternoon grew older, I traveled towards the sunshine state.

Montgomery, Alabama

         The drive from Nashville to Montgomery was relatively short compared to some of the other legs of my trip so far. It was a little odd that a 4-hour drive seemed like no trouble at all, but in the same way, it was freeing. At this point in the trip, I had grown accustomed to the road and I felt little trepidation about traveling for several hours in the car. In fact, I looked forward to it.

I arrived in Montgomery in the early evening, settled in my hotel room, and went to a nearby grocery store to buy supplies for dinner. After cooking a simple meal, I worked on research and blog posts for several hours before turning in for the evening. The next morning I woke up, made breakfast, and drove into town.

I found parking directly outside the Capitol building, a convenience that I always appreciate. The sun was shining, and the bright white building was glistening in the daylight. It was an older Capitol – I have found that generally, the Eastern states have older Capitol buildings. I took a few pictures of historical markers on the ground, and I crossed the street to get a shot of the front of the building. As I did this, I spotted a couple that was also taking pictures of the State House, and we exchanged nods of acknowledgment.

As I began walking up the steps and into the front doors, I noticed a few people walking out of the building, and a bedraggled man approaching them. He appeared as though he may have been homeless, and he began telling them about how he was down on his luck, and started asking them for money. As I walked into the building, the Capitol policeman who was running security looked over my shoulder and saw the man through the open door. The policeman was young, blonde, wore glasses, and although he was very friendly, he had the typical no-nonsense demeanor of a policeman. He looked at me, smiled, and said, “Excuse me for a moment,” and walked outside. When the man saw him, he quickly turned away and the group of people began moving toward the street. The policeman said, “Did you just ask them for money?”

“No,” the man said, sheepishly.

Firmly, but not unkindly, the policeman chastised, “If I go ask them they are going to tell me something different, aren’t they? Look, I thought I told you that you can’t do that around here. You need to leave.”

“Yes, sir,” the man replied, and hurried off down the street.

I remember being struck by the gracious way the policeman handled the matter. He could have yelled, or been rude to the man for a repeated situation that they had clearly spoken about before, but he didn’t. The policeman was stern, yet it appeared he had not let his job cloud his compassion. It was a comforting thing to witness as soon as I stepped into the Capitol, because the policeman felt sympathy for the man, who had clearly fallen on hard times.

The policeman came back inside and ran me through the usual security procedures. There was a school group in the entryway just about to begin a tour, so in hushed tones, I told him about the trip, and he pulled out a map of the building and told me where all of the rooms of interest were. I thanked him, and began listening to the school tour as the guide asked all of the kids to lie down on their backs in the rotunda and look up into the dome as she told them a few facts about the building. Philadelphia architect Stephan Button built it in 1847, and it stands 350 feet wide and 119 feet tall. There have been several additions to the original part of the building over the course of the building’s life, and a major restoration from the 1970s to the 1990s returned the building to its late 1800s appearance.

She also pointed out two portraits: Governor George Wallace, and his wife, Governor Lurleen Burns Wallace. Both of them served as Governor during the 1960s and the Civil Rights Movement. When George Wallace first entered the Alabama legislature in 1946, he was considered to be moderate on race issues. Later in his career, he took a hard stance against desegregation and used this platform to win votes from the white majority. Wallace’s racist and anti-liberal campaigning tactics during his four unsuccessful bids for the presidency in 1964, 1968, 1972, and 1976 contributed to his decline in popularity. 

Lurleen Burns Wallace was George Wallace’s first wife. She made her own gubernatorial bid in 1966 when George Wallace was unable to repeal the term limits in the Alabama constitution (he later succeeded in repealing the term limits and two of his four terms were consecutive). She ran as “Mrs. George C. Wallace” and promised to keep her husband as her “#1 assistant.”   [This blatant circumvention of the Constitution might have been expected to produce backlash, but instead she was elected.]  She suffered through cancer treatment throughout her campaign, but she maintained a rigorous schedule, hiding her condition from the public. She began to rapidly decline shortly after taking office, and she died in Montgomery on May 7th, 1968. The Wallace portraits hang in the rotunda to honor the first (and to date, only) female governor of Alabama, and the governor who spent the longest amount of time in office.  

On May 15th, 1972 Arthur Bremer shot George Wallace five times while Wallace was campaigning at the Laurel Shopping Center in Laurel, Maryland. Wallace survived, but he was paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of his life. During his four terms as governor of Alabama, Wallace managed to repeal a restriction on term limits in the Alabama constitution that prevented any governor from serving consecutive terms. Although he is known as the face of the anti-desegregation movement, Wallace helped the state by establishing a junior college system that has spread throughout the state that prepares high school students for four-year degrees at Auburn University and University of Alabama. 

The group moved on to the House Chamber that was, as usual, the largest room in the building. There were soaring ceilings and tall windows on three sides of the room. The afternoon sun shone on an antique wood burning stove that still sits in the House Chamber. The engravings on the stove were extremely intricate, and the silver exterior reflected the sunlight so intensely that the stove became a focal point of the immense room.

Next the group moved up to the second floor where everyone convened in the Senate Gallery. It was decorated mostly in green, and the chairs below were arranged in a semi-circular shape.  As the tour group settled down to listen, the tour guide began telling us some facts about the room. The room was restored to its late 1800s appearance during a massive renovation in the 1980s. Here in the Senate Chamber, the Confederacy was signed into existence, and this building became the Capitol of the Confederate States of America. The guide told the group that many years ago, the legislature decided it would be a good idea to sell refreshments in the rotunda, including alcohol, for the citizens that decided to come to the Capitol to watch the legislative proceedings. As the spectators became increasingly intoxicated, their objections would become more and more boisterous, and it was not uncommon for citizens in the gallery to pelt their Senators with peanuts if they did not agree with something they said or how they voted on an issue. This is perhaps one of the many origins of the phrase, “Quiet in the peanut gallery!”

There were two other rooms in the back of the building that are used for gatherings and other purposes. One of the rooms housed a memorial to Alabama veterans, and another was currently displaying a school project in which elementary students had designed their own poster about “saying no to drugs.” Finally, there was a gift shop in the rear of the building, where I purchased my stately souvenirs, a postcard and a keychain.

I walked to the front of the building to return to my car, and on my way out, I stopped to talk to the Capitol policeman and the tour guide, both of whom were in the front entranceway. I had a long conversation with them about the trip and various other things, and gave them each a card for the blog. The guide recommended the Civil Rights Center as well as the Rosa Parks Museum as other places that I might be interested in visiting. It was already almost 4, so I decided to visit one of them the next day before driving to Atlanta.

The following morning I woke up, packed, and checked out before heading back downtown to visit the Rosa Parks Museum. I decided to go there because it focused specifically on the Montgomery Bus Boycott, and how those events in the small town of Montgomery would eventually change the country forever. As I drove into town, I noticed that there was almost nobody around. It was a fairly nice downtown with a few stores, plenty of parking spaces and nice wide sidewalks, but there was hardly anyone to be seen. It was a Saturday, so I guessed everyone in Montgomery either went to Birmingham or had something else to do.

I took a few pictures of the front of the building, but when I entered I was informed that photography was not allowed inside of the museum. I purchased tickets and headed into the room across the hall, where a fairly large group was gathering for the tour. The guide came in and shut the door. She asked everyone to sit down and told us that we were going to see a video about the night Rosa Parks was arrested, detailing the events before, during, and after the arrest itself. The video began by introducing the main people involved in the boycott, including Rosa Parks, Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Reverend E.B. Nixon, who was president of the local chapter of the NAACP. It went on to describe the night that Rosa Parks was arrested, including the fact that her resistance was not actually illegal. Rosa Parks was sitting in the row of the bus that is designated for both black and white citizens, and it was a custom rather than a law demanding that blacks give up those seats for white passengers. Rosa Parks was not breaking the law, but when she refused to move, she was arrested nonetheless.

This moment of resistance sparked a ripple throughout the town, in large part because Rosa Parks was well known and liked on both “sides” of Montgomery. She was a 40-year-old seamstress that was acquainted with everyone. Not only was she an active member of the church in the African American community, but she had also hemmed dresses for wealthy, white debutantes and was friendly with their parents. She was liked throughout all levels of society within Montgomery, and this fact made her resistance the most profound. She was such a kind person that the entire town was surprised to hear of her arrest, and this was a very powerful factor in the bus boycott.

When Parks was arrested, she was permitted to make one phone call. She called E.B. Nixon, who was not only her minister but was also the president of the NAACP. He immediately called Reverend Ralph Abernathy and Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. who began planning a meeting for the next morning. There the Montgomery Improvement Association was formed, and they planned to organize a long-threatened boycott of the buses.  Black customers’ fares were the mainstay of the bus system’s budget. Jo Ann Robinson, a professor at Alabama State College and president of Montgomery’s Women’s Political Council, worked all night with a student at the college mimeographing flyers to be handed out in the black community. They made a total of 52,500 flyers calling for a one-day bus boycott on Monday, December 5th, the day of Park’s trial.

            On December 5th, Parks was convicted of violating segregation laws. That day, the buses ran empty.  A full 99% of Montgomery’s black population took part in the boycott, and walked to work that day. Later that evening, the black community gathered at Holt Street Baptist Church to discuss the boycott, and how to continue it. Martin Luther King Jr. spoke at that gathering, stressing the importance of nonviolent protest, no matter what opposition, retaliation, or violence they faced during this boycott. Indeed, they did face severe backlash from the city and white supremacist groups. A large group of the protestors were arrested, including King. Four black churches were bombed, along with King’s and Abernathy’s houses. In order to continue the boycott, the MIA organized a carpool system to help the community’s elderly get around, but officials often harassed those cars, drivers, and passengers. Still, despite all of the difficulties that they faced, the protest continued.

            Finally, almost a year after the protest had begun, the Supreme Court ruled Montgomery’s bus segregation laws unconstitutional on November 26, 1956. The boycott continued until official record of the ruling reached Montgomery, but when it did, King, Abernathy, and a few others rode the buses all day, sitting in the front. This moment was the first major triumph in the Civil Rights Movement, and the Montgomery Bus Boycott inspired many other similar protests in towns across the country. This was the beginning of a long battle that would improve the lives of black Americans everywhere, and it all started with the Montgomery Bus Boycott.

            There is an air of poetic justice about the Montgomery Bus Boycott in the sense that the Civil Rights Movement began in the former capital city of the Confederacy. It was an inspiring message to the rest of the country about the power of the nonviolent protest, and it set a precedent for other protests such as the Nashville sit-ins, during which black college students sat at the lunch counters of different stores in downtown Nashville and refused to give up their seats. When they succeeded in desegregating the lunch counters on May 10th, 1960, it was yet another major step toward racial equality.

            I left the museum feeling restored in my faith in humanity and inspired by the incredible bravery of Rosa Parks and other nonviolent protestors of the Civil Rights movement. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and I was looking forward to the drive to Atlanta. I climbed back in my car and set my sights east towards Georgia.