Hi Everyone,
Today is Martin Luther King Day, and I was just thinking two things, both of which saddened me.
So I am going to forego my usual music related column here this week to discuss.
1. How there is no one around like Martin Luther King today. No one intelligently speaking out
to the masses on the injustices that go on every day. No one who works so hard to try to make
this country (and the world) a better place for all people. No one who speaks of peaceful
actions, peaceful solutions, who can rally this nation (and the world) together.
2. How everyone has heard the line, "I have a dream...", but few have heard or read the speech
from which it came. Below is the text of that speech. It think it resonates as powerfully today
as it did some 40 years ago when Dr. King first said it.
I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration
for freedom in the history of our nation.
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the
Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions
of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous
daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of
the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of
discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the
midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still
languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we
have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our
republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence,
they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a
promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable
rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of
color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro
people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to
believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient
funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check -- a
check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have
also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time
to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is
the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and
desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our
nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time
to make justice a reality for all of God's children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of
the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom
and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro
needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns
to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is
granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations
of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads
into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of
wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of
bitterness and hatred.
We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of 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 force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which
has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to distrust of all white people, for many of
our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their
destiny is tied up with our destiny and their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We
cannot walk alone.
As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are
those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be
satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We
can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain
lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We can never be satisfied as
long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for
which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls
down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of
you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for
freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police
brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that
unearned suffering is redemptive.
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, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I
still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a 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."
I have a dream 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.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of
injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom
and justice.
I have a dream that my four little 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.
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having
his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in
Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and
white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made
low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the
glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.
This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be
able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to
transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this
faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail
together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My
country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of
the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."
And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the
prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let
freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!
Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!
But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let
freedom ring.
And when this happens, When we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and
every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of
God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be
able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last!
thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"
Martin Luther King Jr. ~ 1/15/29-4/4/68
Peace,
Lazlo
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