Farewell to a Civil Rights Chronicler

In May 1963 Bob Adelman was a guest at A. G. Gaston Motel in downtown Birmingham and a professional photographer whose goal was to capture what he described as the last battles of the Civil War. Regarding the atrocities of the struggle, Adelman once said:

“Segregation was an organized system of terror that was instated and reinforced by the Klan or leaders of the communities, and our fellow citizens were victimized. We needed photography to reveal this, to show people exactly what was going on…”

On May 3, 1963, in Kelly Ingram Park, Adelman did as the Civil War photojournalist Mathew Brady had done before him: set his lens on the ugliness of conflict. One harrowing shot shows a group of young protesters being pummeled by water. Photos such as this one helped to highlight the plight of blacks in Birmingham to a worldwide audience.

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Adelman, 85, was found dead in his Miami Beach home this past weekend.

“I shot with one eye on the lens, one eye on history, and my heart was with the movement,” he said.

 

SC shooter ignored history

By now, I’m sure you’ve heard about the murders of the pastor and eight parishioners at historic Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston. The assailant – who’s still on the loose as of this writing – appears to be a young white man. But while this tragedy is senseless, history tells us that survivors and even those beyond Charleston will use this to begin or continue to propel meaningful dialogue and action.

Any student of history should not be surprised that this young man targeted a black church in his attempt to demobilize its people. Attacks against the black church have long been a strategy by terrorists. During slavery, the black church caused ire among slaveholders who were afraid that collective black thought would lead to insurrection. This fear led to limitations of the religious freedom of blacks, slave and free, in the South. In fact, Emanuel was destroyed by fire a few years after its founding in 1816. This event did not destroy the congregants who eventually rebuilt. The church became a stalwart symbol of Charleston’s civil rights struggle of the 20th century.

During Birmingham’s civil rights movement, terrorists here also attacked the black church. On Christmas night in 1956, civil rights leader Fred Shuttlesworth emerged from a parsonage left hobbled by six sticks of dynamite. Shuttlesworth was the pastor of the Bethel Baptist Church in the black working-class neighborhood of Collegeville in Birmingham. In later years, Shuttlesworth pointed to that event as validation that God would protect him as he led Birmingham’s civil rights movement. “…God took fear from me. He prepares you, I guess for what you have to do for Him,” Shuttlesworth said in later years.  Shuttlesworth was not the only one galvanized that night. Those who gathered that night were revitalized as well as black people throughout the city.

Bethel Baptist Church and parsonage following the '56 Christmas bombing.

Bethel Baptist Church and parsonage following the ’56 Christmas bombing.

The day after the bombing, 250 black residents rode local buses to test the new federal decree that outlawed segregated public transportation (but local laws still upheld segregation). Throughout the ’50s and early ’60s, Shuttlesworth was instrumental in calling attention to the plight of folks living under the weight of Jim Crow. The church would be bombed twice more – once in 1958 and again in 1962. Neither of those occurrences resulted in casualties, either.

Fire personnel and onlookers view the damage at 16th Street Baptist Church.

Fire personnel and onlookers view the damage at 16th Street Baptist Church.

Unfortunately, the same thing can not be said of the bombing of Birmingham’s 16th Street Baptist Church in 1963 where four young black girls were murdered. That horrific event helped to wake up ambivalent white Americans to the plight of Southern blacks. And black people in Birmingham and beyond were more determined than ever to fight. If history has any say, years later we will view this tragedy as a turning point, too.

Farewell to the ‘Most Hated White Man in the South’

The first thing I noticed when arriving at Birmingham’s Bethel Baptist Church of Collegeville today for the “homegoing” service of the Rev. Lamar Weaver, 85, was the hearse from Poole’s Funeral Chapels, Inc.

How fitting since it was the Poole brothers, Ernest and John, who helped save Weaver’s life 56 years ago.

On March 6, 1957, a day after the Alabama Public Commission ruled that waiting rooms designated for interstate travel must remain segregated, Weaver met the Rev. Fred Shuttlesworth, Birmingham’s formidable civil rights leader and Bethel’s pastor, and his wife, Ruby, at Terminal Station. The Shuttlesworths had bought tickets to Atlanta and sat in the whites-only waiting room in defiance of the ruling. Weaver, a white man, had come to the station to show his support. As the Shuttlesworths and Weaver waited for the train, a crowd of about 100 segregationists, led by “Dynamite Bob” Chambliss (one of the men responsible for bombing the 16th Street Baptist Church in 1963), began to harass them. Before long, police ordered all those without tickets to leave the waiting room, and this included Weaver.  In his 2001 autobiography, “Bury My Heart in Birmingham,” Weaver recounted that long walk to his car:

A police officer pushed me out on to the sidewalk and the door closed behind me. I was surrounded by this angry mob. I was terrified. I turned toward the area where my car was parked and started walking slowly to my car. The mob was so close to me; I could feel their hot breath on the back of my neck. I knew if I ran I would most certainly be killed much like a pack of wild dogs would do when they chase after prey. Then suddenly, someone hit me from behind with a suitcase and knocked me to the ground. Some of the persons in the mob began kicking me. I struggled back to my feet trying desperately to make it to my car. The mob followed me. The news media were there taking pictures. Thank God for those reporters. If they had not been there with their cameras, I’m sure I would have been killed. Getting to my car seemed like an eternity. Finally I made it and managed to somehow get inside.

The hostile crowd threw cement blocks and rocked the vehicle, attempting to flip it over. Weaver described Chambliss being at the front of his car, sneering and cursing while rocking it.

Weaver managed to back up but not before someone in the crowd opened the car door and began beating him.  A reporter from a national media outlet pushed the man away and Weaver was able to speed off. However, the police charged Weaver with running a red light and reckless driving.  He opted for an immediate trial and was able to stand before a city judge that day. The judge fined Weaver $25 and ordered him to leave town.

The Poole brothers paid Weaver’s fine, hid his car and drove him to the funeral home. Here’s Weaver’s account of what happened next:

I hid there for the rest of the day and that night. A Negro informant told the police that I was hiding at the Poole Funeral Home. When they couldn’t find me there, the mob continued their search for me throughout the city. At least twice during the late hours of the night, angry Whites came into the funeral home looking for me. [Three employees] of the Poole Funeral Home had hidden me in a casket.

According to Weaver, the next day, he was taken to the airport and flew to Washington, D.C. to testify before the U.S. Senate subcommittee on civil rights. (He had made his airplane reservations under the pseudonym James Bishop to remain hidden.) While waiting to testify, Weaver was told by his congressional representative, “Don’t ever go back to Birmingham. You’ll never be welcomed. You are a disgrace. You are the most hated white man in the south.” Weaver did not let the representative’s words deter him from testifying.

Weaver’s deeds were not without consequences.  He had made many enemies, especially when he decided to run against Eugene “Bull” Connor for his seat on the Birmingham City Commission. During his campaign, a bullet was fired into his house, almost hitting one of his daughters. Soon after, his first wife divorced him and moved to north Alabama. Weaver also lost the election to Connor.

During today’s eulogy for Weaver, Bethel’s current pastor, the Rev. Thomas L. Wilder, Jr., asked, “Why would a white man in the middle of segregated Birmingham risk everything?” Wilder told the small group of mourners of an event that Weaver witnessed at a young age that may have been the impetus for his life’s work.  In Weaver’s words:

I was about four years old and we were traveling down an old dirt road near [Centre], Alabama. I thought it must have been on the weekend because as we approached a crossroad I saw a large group of people standing around in a festive atmosphere. There were so many people that they were partially blocking the road. As we drew closer, I was not prepared for what I was about to see. I witnessed one of the most horrific things I have ever seen even to this day. What I witnessed was a horrible experience for me. As our car stopped, we saw some White men, some dressed in robes, standing on platform with a Negro boy who I think could have been anywhere from fifteen to eighteen years old. There he was standing stripped of his clothing and the Whites were savagely beating him. Then they brought out axes and they began hacking his body to pieces, killing him before our very eyes. It was like a slaughterhouse. Blood was everywhere. My father, mother and I watched in horror. I just sat there horrified. It was a sight I will remember for the rest of my life. Looking back now, that experience made an impact on my life that may have been the reason my life took the path that it did.

“Please for the rest of your life, remember Rev. Lamar Weaver. Remember those who risked it all for the sake of the cause,” Wilder admonished us.

Weaver’s son, Robert Lamar, also spoke at today’s service. He reminded everyone of the circular nature of life.  Weaver, who had been living in Kennesaw, Ga., had once again returned to Birmingham, the city he loved and fought to change. “And today, with God’s plan, we will bury my father’s heart in Birmingham.”

Weaver shaking hands with Shuttlesworth as Shuttlesworth's first wife, Ruby, looks on.  Weaver was on hand at Birmingham's Terminal Station to show support of the couple as they waited in the whites-only waiting room. Credit: Birmingham News/Alabama Media Group

Weaver shakes hands with Shuttlesworth as Shuttlesworth’s first wife, Ruby, looks on. Weaver was on hand at Birmingham’s Terminal Station to show support of the couple as they waited for their train to Atlanta in the whites-only waiting room. Credit: Birmingham News/Alabama Media Group

A mob surrounds Weaver's car as he attempts to leave the terminal. Credit: Birmingham News/Alabama Media Group

A mob surrounds Weaver’s car as he attempts to leave the terminal. Credit: Birmingham News/Alabama Media Group

Jeffreen’s Swan Song

Jeffreen M. Hayes, Ph.D., said Birmingham Museum of Art’s newest exhibition, “Etched in Collective History,” is her public thank-you to the Magic City. The former Andrew W. Mellon Curatorial Fellow in African American Art at the museum shared her thoughts during the opening lecture on Friday evening. The exhibit fills all three Jemison Galleries and features 33 artists and 56 pieces of art. The exhibit includes photography, paintings, installation, collage, paintings, prints, drawings, and sculptures.

Early in her talk, Hayes read from an essay she’d written for a local publication. In the essay Hayes writes about the pull Birmingham had on her life, one that even she was unaware of. “During my tenure, several new and old friends asked me, ‘What made you choose Birmingham?’ For a while, I could not articulate exactly why, except for the job opportunity. After spending the past year and half here, however, I can now express why I chose Birmingham…I realized that as much as I chose Birmingham, Birmingham chose me.”

Hayes relayed a childhood experience where she was picked to participate in a Black History Bowl her junior year in high school. During her preparation, Hayes checked out several books from her hometown library. One of those books was “Eyes on the Prize.” “I had never seen images like that before: black people demonstrating their dignity and working together, all for the right to be seen and respected as human beings, and withstanding the brutal force against them having what was rightfully theirs. Birmingham’s struggles were front and center – and disturbing – but stayed in my consciousness all of these years.”

Those images, and a connection to the Birmingham struggle, guided her through the exhibit’s selections. Hayes said her output was a labor of love. “I’ve poured my soul into it. It’s really hard to think about 1963 or the civil rights movement and look at the works and not connect to it personally.” Hayes said it’s her goal that the exhibit’s viewer also makes a connection.

She elaborated on a handful of pieces. Hayes considers two of those as the exhibit’s anchors. One, “There were Saturday afternoons,” is an installation by Shinique Smith that was just completed this week. The work features four doll houses that represent each girl who died in the 16th Street Baptist Church bombing. Smith weaved in locally donated toys, books, shoes and clothes, all things the girls would have continued to enjoy had they lived. The other anchor is an installation by Atlanta-based artist Radcliffe Bailey. The piece “takes you to church” with Bailey’s interpretation of 16th Street Baptist Church’s sanctuary. The work features portraits of the four girls and viewers can hear strains of John Coltrane’s “Alabama” from a vintage radio.

In addition to Smith and Bailey, the exhibit includes artwork from Zoe Charlton, Thornton Dial, Art Bacon, Chris McNair, Jefferson Pinder and others. Hayes admitted some of the pieces may be shocking to some, but that was not the goal. “The pieces are provocative to get people talking. I want us to have that [hard] conversation about diversity, about race.”

Hayes, whose fellowship recently ended, has to Chicago to work with artist Theaster Gates. “Etched in Collective History” opens Sunday at noon at the Birmingham Museum of Art, 2000 Rev. Abraham Woods Jr. Blvd. It closes November 17. Admission is free.

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