Civil Rights Summer continued

Our fourth day in MS focused on civil rights, specifically the Emmett Till case.  The killing of Emmett Till, and the subsequent trial (or morally corrupt miscarriage of justice), are the events that sparked the civil rights movement.   Rosa Parks said that she refused to move to the back of the bus because she was “thinking of that Till boy”.  Till was killed in August of 1955 and the trial was completed just about a month later, which is unheard of today.  Can you imagine--from murder of 14 year-old boy to acquittal of the killers in one month?  As a mother, I can’t even imagine how you would begin to deal with that.  I’ve become softer in many ways since having Theo.  Historical injustices used to register as wrong from a very rational and ethical core of feelings.  Now, though, just thinking about it brings me to near tears and uncontrollable rage.  There’s like this primal desire to protect and seek justice for all children.  

We started off the day in a tiny town called Mound Bayou, which was the first all-black town following emancipation.  Since African-Americans weren’t allowed in most places and roundly hated by the white south, it made a lot of sense to have your own town, with all the facilities you might need (school, hospital) in one place.  It, like most places we saw, is mired in poverty and a sense of stagnation. 

The Taborian hospital Mound Bayou is where Fannie Lou Hamer died.

 

Then we went to Sumner, MS, which is where the Till trial took place.  All of the downtown areas in the town we visited were boarded up and abandoned by business.  It was like visiting (really hot) ghost towns.

 

In Sumner, we got to watch a panel discussion of the Till case.  The discussion was filmed by the NEH and included Till’s cousin (who was with him when he allegedly whistled at Carolyn Bryant), the son of the prosecutor, the FBI agent who worked on the case for two years after it was reopened in 2004, the president of the MS ACLU and a few people who helped the others.  

 

Tallahatchie County is severely economically depressed and messed up.  We were told that it's a county with both "hill people"(white) and "valley people" (black), which creates a sort of schizophrenia and no unity.

 

The courthouse is undergoing renovations in order to accommodate wheelchairs, and also restore some of the original features in anticipation of tourists (next summer is the 50th anniversary of freedom summer).

After the panel, we went to the Till interpretive museum (Glendora, MS), which is in the cotton gin from which the fan that was around his neck when they found his body originated (sort of morbid to have to think about that when you are present in that space.  Also very powerful, like the hate of the place is not allowed to win?).  The museum was kind of weird (it is run by a descendent of an African American man who was an unwilling participant in some of the Till events and so there’s a strange 10 minute video of him you have to watch at the beginning), but it felt good to support the people who are passionate about telling the story.

 

 I want to live there (so bad).

The most eerie visit of our entire trip was to the old Bryant store in Money, MS (where Emmett Till whistled at Carolyn Bryant (a white woman)).  The store folds in on itself every year and is on the verge of total collapse.  The person who owns it also happens to be the son of one of the jurors in the Till case.  He has offered to sell it to the state of MS for $3M, which is the most laugh-worthy thing ever, given that it is in rural MS.

 

It is at this stop that we ate the culinary delight known as a koolickles.  It is a pickle that has been marinated in Koolaid for a while and so it takes off some of the dill edge and gives it a sweet kick.  It’s fantastic and we ate it on this day because had it been around in 1955, it probably would have been sold at the Bryant store.

Drinking the Kool...(ickle).

Our last stop on this day was at Robert Johnson’s grave. Robert Johnson was an unreal blues guitar player and legend has it that he sold his soul to the devil in exchange for his skills.  We went to the spot where the sellout happened, but I didn't get a picture.  

My friend, Bryan, is in this picture--we were carpooling and debriefing buddies.

 We were there at sunset, which was absolutely unreal in its charm.

 I can only hope that my grave looks like this someday (but with marshmallow peeps instead of a 40).

Of course it's next to a corn field.

Can. Not. Get. Enough.  If Natan ever agrees to live there (which he says he will not, but doesn't a brief time of anything sound educational and valuable?), I think I would just drive around all day taking pictures of stuff.

The good/bad news is that I have not even finished all of the events of this ONE day!  I've figured out that if I blog every day for a week I might successfully get through all of our summer pictures! (self-challenge accepted! (by self)).