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

Thirty-seven. Julian Bond

221 t h i r t y - s e v e n Julian Bond as I eased our car alongside the curb, Gloria asked, “Isn’t that Julian? I think I recognize him from seeing him on The Today Show.” She paused. “Maybe not. That fellow looks too young.” I turned off the ignition and stared out the rear window. The tall, slim man waiting at the corner spotted us and smiled. “That’s Julian,” I laughed. “And he’s always looked too young!” Nothing very much had changed in Julian Bond since we had last met eight years ago. He was speaking at Fairfield University to a rapt, young, and mostly white audience, holding the podium with a quiet authority and a ready smile that made him appear even younger. Here was a flesh-andblood activist who had “walked the walk” and endured imprisonment for his efforts to gain the vote for disenfranchised blacks in Alabama, Georgia, and Mississippi. Here, standing before them, was an outspoken protester of American involvement in the war in Vietnam for which he had been pilloried by the Georgia legislature and denied his lawfully elected seat in the legislature. I watched the intent faces as this vibrant and engaged man breathed life into a history that for many in his audience was already mythic. Perhaps his close-cropped hair was a little more salt-and-pepper, his fine-featured face a bit more lined than I remembered. But he was still youthfully erect, and with the arresting presence I recalled from our very first meeting in 1964. As we moved to the terrace of the café, Gloria murmured to me, “I was right. He does look too young!” From the time in 1964 when I joined the SNCC summer volunteers, our Connecticut home became a way station for many in the movement when they came north to raise funds or build support for the struggle in Mississippi. It was shortly after I had returned from the Delta in 1964 222   |   The Roads from the Delta when we received a call from Shirley Belafonte at the SNCC office in New York City. Could we put up Julian Bond, who was on a fund-raising trip through New England? We were delighted to oblige, for we knew of Julian through his work as communications director for SNCC and as the editor of their publication, Student Voice. In one of the issues we had found that the editor was also a poet. The poem was passed around the family, and we eagerly looked forward to meeting its author. I, too, hear America singing But from where I stand I can only hear Little Richard And Fats Domino. 46. Canvassing voters in Drew. “If you’ll stand up, we’ll stand with you!” Julian Bond   |   223 But sometimes, I hear Ray Charles Drowning in his own tears or Bird Relaxing at Camarilla or Horace Silver doodling, Then I don’t mind standing a little longer. The soft-spoken, slender young man with the short Afro who appeared at our door looked more like a poet than a revolutionary. Over the years that followed, we were to learn that Julian Bond was both. Washington was basking in a warm September sunshine, and the three of us settled comfortably in a corner to talk. Gloria smiled as she regarded Bond. “I feel I know you from hearing you, and watching you, over the years. I’m really happy to meet you. Tracy told me about your getting involved in the movement when you were still in college. He said you went to Morehouse in 1957.” She hesitated. “And that you didn’t graduate until 1971. How come? What happened?” Julian grinned and nodded. “He’s right. It was SNCC that happened. I started working as communications director for SNCC in 1960, and it took more and more of my time. I started going back and forth to Mississippi and finally dropped out of college in 1961.” “How did your folks handle that?” I asked. “Particularly your father. He was dean of Atlanta University then.” Julian’s face grew serious, and he was silent for a moment, studying the people passing in the street. “It wasn’t easy for my parents seeing me drop out one semester short of graduation. My mother and father were the second generation of college graduates in their families, and they wanted the third...