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25 2 Shackles of Fear, Handcuffs of Hopelessness Almost always, the creative, dedicated minority has made the world better. —Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. It was a cold January morning in 1963 when I first drove into Selma to start the project, and in less than fifteen minutes a police car was following my automobile, and I was driving only in the black community. I concluded there had to be someone in the neighborhood who tipped off the police that a stranger was in town. It was disheartening to realize that blacks were turning against each other. One of the fears expressed more than once was that “these Freedom Riders will come down here and get your children thrown in jail, with no money to get them out.” However, rather than doubts and fears looming large in my mind on hearing these stories, I became more curious as to how this community got that way. I was eager to talk with people, particularly older people, to learn about the experiences that shaped their way of thinking. In the fall of 1962 I had just married Colia Liddell in Nashville, and my wife accompanied me to Selma. Many of us in the movement married young because we didn’t know how long we’d survive. We were both twenty-two years old, just kids really. I first met Colia on the Freedom Rides a year earlier in Jackson, Mississippi. She went to Tougaloo College , a private school near Jackson, and was extremely bright and courageous . Colia and I first lived at the home of Mrs. Amelia Boynton, a strong leader in the black community and the person who initially invited SNCC to come to Selma. She gave me valuable insight into the inner workings of the Selma community. I’m proud to say that she has been a lifelong friend. 26 IN PEACE AND FREEDOM Then we moved in with a schoolteacher, Mrs. Margaret Moore, and her family until an apartment became available. Mrs. Moore was a master ’s-level teacher and had lived in Selma for many years. She owned rental property and graciously opened her home to us. I enjoyed her superb cooking, as well as her intelligent conversation and insightful thinking. As a by-product of my new living arrangement I became concerned about her safety and her involvement in the movement. Because I was there to mount the Voter Registration Campaign, this generated hostile feelings on the part of many whites. But not once did she show fear or discomfort . In her face could be seen quiet courage, with confidence and assuredness for her mission. Her pursuit of justice and equality was fact. She had a clear expectation that the voting campaign would succeed. She was there and ready wherever and whenever she was needed. Self-assured, posture erect, chin up and shoulders back, Mrs. Moore seemed almost to strut when she walked. She was an avid participant in marches and demonstrations . In later years Mrs. Moore was often referred to as an “invisible giant” because of her continued efforts and behind-the-scenes work to improve life for black people. Her children—a young son, Reginald, and two teenage daughters, Harriet and Gwen—were well mannered and well disciplined, not because she was stern and rigid, but rather because she expected them to act with intelligence and to use good judgment. And they did. Mrs. Moore taught them early on a life’s lesson of standing up for what they believed. She was a stranger to fear and had a passion for service and community. As a teacher she went beyond the call of duty, often teaching students after school about their real black history, not what white people had written in the history books. She not only was well acquainted with her subject matter but also showed enormous love and compassion for her students. Our SNCC workers mostly came from big cities and college towns. Frank Holloway from Atlanta joined me for a short while to help me get set up in the office, but he didn’t stay very long. Some workers put on bib overalls to dress like farmers and people in the community, to blend in and relate to the local people. To get to know the people of Selma, I visited with them on their front porches, as I did with the retired postal worker Mr. Robert Reagon. He told me, “I’ve lived here all my life. I’ve traveled...

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