This was towards the end of many, many years and many, many hardships - remembering the context of the Civil Rights movement – there was so much that needed to be overcome just to get to the point that I am remembering below. Selma, Alabama, March 7, 1965. Even today 49 years later – I get leery and shaky when I see a German Shepard!!! But I digress…… Timeline Excerpts from Adrienne’s journal……49 years ago…. February 27, 1965 We met on the south side of Chicago at the Liberty Baptist church. The Reverend Jesse Jackson was there and explained the hazards and perils of our upcoming journey. There were twenty of us from the north side of Chicago who merged with our black brothers and sisters from the south side. All together, a common cause. Buses would be picking us up from there in the next few days. We ate and slept in the church until the time when we were picked up. March 1, 1965 I was 23 years old, naïve, full of spirit and fearless. At the time I was working and no longer living with my parents. I was very fortunate to have loving conservative parents who looked after my wonderful young daughter in the Chicago area. They were fearful for me but proud of the journey that I was going to embark on. I carried my daughter Kathy’s little picture with me throughout the journey. We were told to take a minimum amount of money with us – using the local black churches to supplement our needs. We had spent three days on the road on a bus getting to the south, sleeping on the bus and in black churches that took us in. At each stop, which was planned ahead of time, we picked up additional marchers from all over the country. Communications were scarce, my sole connection with my family up north was contacting them via public telephone and reversing the charges. March 7, 1965 It is the first march from Selma to Montgomery. It is “bloody” Sunday. There were 600 of us. The front line started marching and we all followed. We were holding hands black and white together. Scared, yes, but our mindset was “forward, no looking back”. We tried to cross the Pettus Bridge. State troopers and local law men advanced on us and they were cheered on by white onlookers. They attacked the crowd and pushed us back with billy clubs and tear gas. Mounted police chased our retreat and continued to beat the marchers. To clarify, Reverend King, Jackson and Sharpton had instructed the men to take the outside perimeter and the women in the middle flanked by the male marchers. March 9, 1965 Second attempt to cross the bridge – we grew to 2500. We again were turned around at the bridge. Medical personnel who were with us tended to the wounded. Most were concussion, broken bones and contusions. Some could not continue and we had busses that would return them to local churches. Youth has the advantage of not realizing a lot of pain and the determination to go again another day. Between March 9 and March 21 we finally crossed the bridge all 5000 of us. March 21, 1965 54 miles to Montgomery. There were 8000 of us at Brown Chapel. March 22 – 23, 1965 After trudging through the rain and sleeping in the muddy fields, on March 24th we crossed into Montgomery City. We weren’t a pretty sight but we felt triumphant!!! On the night of the 24th we had a celebratory evening – there was Harry Belefonte, Tony Bennett, Frankie Laine, Peter Paul and Mary – what an evening. How young and determined were we. Little did we know that we made history. I have shared my experiences with my grandchildren and told them if you believe in something, go for it!! January 23, 2014 Adrienne Cheseldine rudichab@aol
Posted on: Sat, 27 Dec 2014 16:50:48 +0000
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