This Is Only the Beginning

When I arrived at work that morning, Colonel Stanton screamed in rage, “Folley, in my office! Now!”

As I stepped inside, he slammed the door shut behind me. “Folley, you’re a technical expert sent here to help us, and in less than one month you’re front page news in the local papers, and bad news. What’s the meaning of this?”

“What are you talking about, Colonel?”

The Colonel shoved the local newspaper into my face. “Read this.”

I read, in large black letters on the front page: “JIM FOLLEY, A LEADING MEMBER OF MAXWELL AIR FORCE BASE’S SCIENTIFIC STAFF, MEETS WITH BLACK LEADERS TO INCITE RACIAL DISTURBANCES IN MONTGOMERY.”

“I—”

He cut me off. “I warned you about this kind of interference when you arrived. Didn’t I?” He stabbed his finger into my shoulder. “We need good relations with the local community to work here. I’m putting you in for a transfer to another base this very minute. That is, if anyone will have you.”

I arrived in Montgomery only a few weeks before, in the early autumn of 1958.

I had driven down from Massachusetts and across the high bridge over the Chattahoochee River—the Georgia-Alabama border—and into the small pre-Civil War town of Eufala. The overwhelming awe of antebellum homes guarded by weeping willow and magnolia trees brought my car to a halt. The smell of frying catfish from a nearby sidewalk vendor made me realize how hungry I was, and that I was in the Deep South. “I’ll take an order of that,” I said to the sidewalk vendor, pointing at the catfish. I savored the food as I strolled through the village.

Everyone whose paths I crossed smiled and called out greetings. Were these friendly encounters part of legendary Southern hospitality? What a surprising introduction to this new land that would be my home for the next years.

That evening I arrived in Montgomery, and the next morning I drove to Maxwell Air Force Base to start my new job. After passing the security checkpoint, I drove to the office of Colonel Stanton, the Base Technical Commander and my military boss. Maxwell was a huge base. I drove along landing strips, airplane hangars, drill fields, and barracks. The traffic on the base matched that of downtown Montgomery, which gave me an idea of the base’s frenetic activity.

I knocked on Colonel Stanton’s open office door.

“Come on in.”

“Hello, Colonel Stanton. I’m Jim Folley, the new—”

“We’ve been expecting you. Welcome aboard.” The Colonel stood, shook my hand and pointed to a seat in front of his desk. “Have a good trip?”

“Yes, but now I’m anxious to get to work. Your project has my juices flowing.”

“We appreciate enthusiasm. You’ll be working with the civilian tech consultants in close collaboration with our military team. I think you’ll like the atmosphere here. It’s friendly and casual, but we have an important job to do. Our radar and computer system will be America’s first line of defense in case of an enemy air attack. The civilian and military engineers have to respect each other and Air Force protocol. We also have to soft-pedal our presence in Montgomery with respect to the local population. The Negro bus boycott has left everyone very edgy. We’ll count on you to respect rules even though you are civilian staff. This program is top air defense priority. The big brass in Washington will be watching us closely.”

“Yes, Colonel, you can count on me. This is a great personal opportunity for me. It’s the hottest technical program in the country.”

A week after starting work at the base, I called Martin Luther King, Jr., at the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church. This was my second reason for coming to Montgomery. The Montgomery Bus Boycott had given me a new vision of our country and the civil rights movement. Montgomery had become the symbol of a new America, and I was eager to be part of it. I wanted to speak...