We Had Sneakers, They Had Guns: The Kids Who Fought for Civil Rights in Mississippi

Four. Goodman, Schwerner, Chaney

32 f o u r Goodman, Schwerner, Chaney all the talk that first morning was of the missing students. The news of their disappearance had flown through the Sanctified Quarter, our neighborhood, and when Dale and I reached the chapel for the first meeting , the kids were standing in knots around the steps. “Gee, I had lunch with Andy last Friday!” “Which one was Schwerner? The kid with the beard?” “Yeah. He had his wife with him at Oxford. They’ve been running a small community center over in Meridian.” “It looks lousy. Not even a trace of their station wagon.” “Chaney’s from Meridian. James knows the score. That’s why it looks lousy. He didn’t get lost. What do you think, Mac?” McLaurin stood on the first step, his hands deep in his pockets. His eyes were troubled. “They say in Jackson that the three of them were picked up for speeding, ‘held for investigation,’ and released at ten thirty at night. That’s the story that they got from the Philadelphia sheriff.” He shook his head vehemently . “Mickey Schwerner wouldn’t have left a jail in Philadelphia at ten thirty at night.” Abruptly, he wheeled and went up the steps to the chapel. Mac leaned against the rickety pulpit, and his voice patiently spelled out the pattern of the days and nights ahead. “The cars you’ll hear moving through the quarter at night are vigilante cars. They work out of the Billups Station over yonder. They don’t know what we’re doin’ yet, so they’re gonna keep movin’ through the quarter to find out.” He studied the intent faces before him. “So it’s time we got our security operating. Dale, you move over to the Hamer house and set up communications. Three of our people are missing; probably they’re dead. We’ve got to be careful, and we’ve got to keep in touch.” Goodman, Schwerner, Chaney   |   33 He stopped, and the dark glasses swept the rows of seats. “From now on, call Gronemeier at the Hamers’ when you get home at night. If you see cars or trucks movin’ through the quarter, get their license plate numbers and pass them to Dale. Stay away from windows if your light is on, and be careful. If there is any trouble, call in, and we’ll pass the word to the rest of the Sanctified Quarter. Dale will be in touch with Jackson, and he’ll relay news in and out of Ruleville.” 9. Student volunteers at the meeting. “Goodman, Schwerner, and Chaney are missing.” r- \ / 10. Communications center at the Freedom House. “Have your local families call us immediately if you’re not home at the expected time . . . ” Goodman, Schwerner, Chaney   |   35 He paused as a green pickup truck moved slowly past the chapel and stopped as a white police truck came alongside from the opposite direction. The bed of the truck was a wire cage. The door swung open, and a large black and brown police dog paced back and forth on the tailgate. The two drivers spoke briefly, their faces turning toward my Chevy and the windows of the chapel. The policeman noted my license number, and the two trucks moved silently down the road. McLaurin turned from the window. “Mayor Durrough, the police, the vigilantes—they all know you’re here. They’re worried sick about it.” He slapped his hands sharply together and leaned toward the group. “So startin’ right now, we’re gonna start working on getting these people in Ruleville to sign up and go with us down to Indianola to try and register.” His voice hardened. “No police dog’s gonna change that.” Nor Andy. Nor James. Nor Mickey. I settled into a corner of the tiny platform that held the lectern in Williams Chapel. The shabby church was alive that first night of “mass meetings” in Ruleville. The walls were bare but for a number of pennants proclaiming “Banner Offering Class,” and a poster-sized book of illustrated Bible stories that hung from a clothes hook in the rear of the hall. Behind the pulpit was a threadbare American flag draped across the window . A single poster showing children facing fire hoses in Birmingham proclaimed “We Shall Overcome.” But there was a pulse of expectancy as the folks from black Ruleville began to fill and then overflow the wooden theater seats...