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In the late 1950s, I arrived in Atlanta to attend college. The city was ground zero in the Civil Rights movement, and some fraternity brothers and I took part in several marches led by Dr. King. These happened in the downtown area of the city. In those days, many large department stores had lunch counters, which were, of course, segregated. Mostly we marched in support of the black protestors who sat-in at these counters and were promptly but passively removed. I remember once when our group was on one side of the street and the KKK on the other (in full regalia). A local businessman had handed out axe handles to Klan members with which to threaten us.
At that time I wrote an editorial for my university newspaper in which I decried the treatment of America's black Olympic athletes. Overseas these athletes were heroes, but the country they returned to cheered them while denying them basic human rights and the honor they deserved. A week after my essay was published, a small white cross was burned on my fraternity house lawn.
We had little idea that we were in the midst of a great movement that would forever change the way America treated its minorities. We had even less idea that we were marching with a man who would become one of the towering figures in our nation's history.
At that time I wrote an editorial for my university newspaper in which I decried the treatment of America's black Olympic athletes. Overseas these athletes were heroes, but the country they returned to cheered them while denying them basic human rights and the honor they deserved. A week after my essay was published, a small white cross was burned on my fraternity house lawn.
We had little idea that we were in the midst of a great movement that would forever change the way America treated its minorities. We had even less idea that we were marching with a man who would become one of the towering figures in our nation's history.