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from the 60's decade 

"Reflections on the Assassination of 
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr."

Beginning with the influx of immigrants, population growth, financial prosperity, education, inventions, etc.,

there were also wars;  abroad  and conflict at home .

In the 1960's the lives of Naomi Anthony and millions of Americans were changed due to the work of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s courageous fight against injustice.  Naomi acknowledges that because of Dr. King's efforts, she has been able to bring her talents as an educator, singer, story teller  and a painter to a broader audience.  She often teams with her husband John who has appeared at the Metropolitan Opera. 

Naomi has written a poignant story  of how she felt upon hearing of the assassination of Dr. King and how his words have continued to be an inspiration.  She says, "Born into a system of prejudice in the state of North Carolina and spending my growing -up years in the South, gave me a deep appreciation for the Freedom Movement and its value to all American citizens." 

Reflections on the Assassination of

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Naomi G. Anthony

We heard the phone ringing as we approached the door of our apartment on the third floor of the New City, New York, Garden Apartments. My children, Jayon and Arthur, and I were returning from a fun-filled afternoon with a friend and her children. Our daughters, were nearly the same age, and our sons close in age. I hurriedly unlocked the door, rushed in and grabbed the phone. It was my husband, John; luckily he had not hung up. He was calling from New York City, where he had been on business since midmorning of that beautiful spring day. He told me he’d let the phone ring a long time, hoping I’d pick it up.

“Where have you been?”

After I told him, he asked, “Have you heard the bad news?”

“What bad news?”

He replied, “Well, what we both thought might happen to Martin Luther King, has.” His voice breaking.

“Oh no, don’t tell me he’s dead.”

“He’s been shot. It sounds serious. I’m on my way home, and I’ll be there as soon as I can. Bye.”

Speechless, I hung up the phone. Jayon, almost nine years old, noticed tears welling up in my eyes, “Mama, Mama, what’s wrong? What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Did something happen to Daddy?”

“No, Daddy’s okay. He’s on his way home.”

Arthur, who was only six, was waiting anxiously to find out why I was upset. “Well, what’s wrong then Mommy?”

I then repeated the sad message I received from their Daddy; “Martin Luther King has been shot. Let’s turn on the TV.” They responded to the news with shocked disbelief on their young faces. Reporters were announcing details of the assassination. It appeared everyone was stunned and bewildered.

Before John arrived home, we’d heard a television reporter announce that Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was dead. Following my initial feelings of devastation and horror over what had happened, I remember thinking, “Oh no! Now I’ll never get a chance to join one of the civil rights demonstrations, and march with him.”

When John arrived home, we rushed to him and we held on to each other, embracing and consoling one another. We sat talking about our country, and how our country had been blessed and made better by the work of this great man. As an American family we had witnessed Martin Luther King giving his all and sacrificing his life for an America he loved. He loved so much that he went to Rosa Parks’ aid when she refused to move to the back of the bus and was taken off to jail. He organized the non-violent civil rights movement to change the “bad” bus law, and all other laws that had held the black people down so long, taking away their rights as human beings.

In his last speech, in Memphis, Dr. King said, “Let us stand with a greater determination. And let us move on in these powerful days, these days of challenge, to make America what it ought to be. We have an opportunity to make America a better nation.”

The assassination of Dr. King left us feeling very sad, extremely upset, angry and depressed. The mixed emotions flooding my mind and heart did not last long. My mind became filled with thoughts of the monumental accomplishments of this great man. When I thought of all the positive changes his leadership had brought about, my spirit lifted with the realization he had brought a drastic change for the better and it would be mine to experience. I could finally do so many things I’d longed to do. I’d be able to enter places black people had been denied entrance to for so long. Finally, my civil rights had been achieved. I felt joyous that our two young children could now grow up in the country of their birth with their civil rights protected. They would not have to suffer the segregated practices I had endured during my childhood. Realizing this, helped me to focus on Dr. King’s life, rather than his untimely death.

I admired that brave act of Rosa Parks, the spark of the freedom movement, which spurred the 1955 year long Montgomery bus boycott. Black people had suffered immeasurably in our country because of the rampant injustices of unconstitutional segregation laws. But now, thank God, we could face the future with courage, believing the words of the battle hymn of the civil rights movement’s song of hope, “We Shall Overcome.”

I was thirty-three years old on that bleak day in 1968 when Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was shot and killed. On that day I thought about how educationally handicapped I’d been for so many years. The teachers, who were colored, as they were called then, did the best they could in the three room weather-beaten, unpainted wooden framed, elementary school I attended, from age seven through eleven. They taught using the hand-me-down worn-out books, furniture and other teaching tools and materials. We walked to school having to pass by a beautiful large red brick school—for the white children only. Their lush green playground and lovely school grounds put our “all dirt” schoolyard to shame; the shame was not on us, but on the southern whites who were in charge. I found myself smiling as I realized I would finally be allowed to enter a public library in the South. I could swim in the Atlantic Ocean and enjoy the beach whenever I pleased. I’d be free to drink from any water fountain, use a public restroom, ride sitting in the seat of my choice on the buses, and any public form of transportation and not be forced to move or leave. I could go to the school of my choice and send my children to schools and any public educational facility of our choice. Public parks no longer segregated, now would be open to us to enjoy. Churches previously closed to black people, would no longer be off limits to them. That hypocritical practice had always struck me as anti-Christian. I found my smile broadening, thinking about the fact that the signs, “Negro or Colored” and “White or Whites Only,” would be taken down and most assuredly destroyed.

One regret permeating my mind was that I had never gotten the chance to march in a civil rights demonstration with Dr. King. After expressing this feeling to my understanding husband, we decided we’d go to Dr. King’s funeral down in Atlanta, on that sad day of April 9, 1968.

We went, and we marched with the throngs of people in the miles long procession to the grave site. It was an extremely hot day. I thought I had worn shoes that would be comfortable to walk in, however, due to the extremely hot pavement, my feet began to feel miserable. There was no way to relieve the growing discomfort; the streets were just too hot for bare feet. I walked the long distance in pain. This pain I embraced feeling my suffering was for his sake, and knowing that because he had suffered, my life would hereafter be better. My pain also made me realize more fully, the untold misery many other marchers must have endured, while taking part in the numerous non-violent demonstrations of the civil rights movement. As we marched, I thought how so many Americans, especially those who had suffered oppression, would now have their civil rights protected. While walking on my raw, swollen and burning feet, I thought of the old freedom song, “I ain’t gonna let nobody turn me around. I’m gonna keep on a walkin’, keep on a talkin’, marchin’ up to freedom land.”

Excerpted from

Tell It To The Future
Have I Got A Story For You...
About The Twentieth Century
by  Francine R Cefola and Bobbi Madry

Copyright Golden Quill Press

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