Martin Luther King and LBJ
By
Bill Moyers Read Spanish Version
This
Bill Moyers essay is a transcript of a television program.
BILL
MOYERS:
If William Shakespeare were around I suspect he might describe the
recent flap between the Obama and Clinton camps as much ado
about nothing or a tempest in a teapot. Senator Clinton was
heard to say that it took a president – Lyndon Johnson – to
consummate the work of Martin Luther King by passing the Civil Rights
Act of 1964. Almost no one in the media bothered to run the whole
quote. Here it is:
HILLARY
CLINTON:
Dr. King’s dream began to be realized when President Lyndon Johnson
passed the Civil Rights Act of 1964, when he was able to get through
Congress something that President Kennedy was hopeful to do, the
president before had not even tried, but it took a president to get
it done."
BILL
MOYERS:
There was nothing in that quote about race. It was an historical
fact, an affirmation of the obvious. But critics pounced. THE NEW
YORK TIMES published a lead editorial accusing Senator Clinton of
"the distasteful implication that a black man needed the help of
a white man to effect change." Suddenly we had a rhetorical
inferno on our hands, with charges flying left and right, and pundits
throwing gasoline on the tiniest of embers. Fortunately the furor has
quieted down, and everyone’s said they’re sorry, except THE NEW YORK
TIMES. But I can’t resist this footnote to the story.
Many
many years ago, I was a young White House Assistant, when President
Johnson at first wanted Martin Luther King to call off the
marching, demonstrations, and protests. The civil rights movement had
met massive resistance in the south, and the south, because of the
seniority system, controlled congress, making it virtually impossible
for congress to enact laws giving full citizenship to black
Americans, no matter how desperate their lives. LBJ worried that the
mounting demonstrations were hardening white resistance.
He had
been the master of the Senate, the great persuader, who could twist
your arm with such flair and flattery you thought he was actually
doing you a favor by wrenching it from its socket. He reckoned
that with a little time he could twist enough arms in Congress
to end, or neutralize, the power of die-hard racists — all
of them, including some of his old mentors, white supremacists who
threatened to bring the government, if not the country, to its
knees before they would see blacks eat at the same restaurants, go to
the same schools, drink from the same fountains, and live in the
same neighborhoods as whites.
As
the pressure intensified on each side, Johnson wanted king to wait a
little longer and give him a chance to bring Congress around by hook
or crook. But Martin Luther King said his people had already
waited too long. He talked about the murders and lynchings, the
churches set on fire, children brutalized, the law defied, men
and women humiliated, their lives exhausted, their hearts broken. LBJ
listened, as intently as I ever saw him listen. He listened, and
then he put his hand on Martin Luther King’s shoulder, and said, in
effect: "OK. You go out there Dr. King and keep doing what
you’re doing, and make it possible for me to do the right
thing." Lyndon Johnson was no racist but he had not been a
civil rights hero, either. Now, as president, he came down on
the side of civil disobedience, believing it might quicken America’s
conscience until the cry for justice became irresistible, enabling
him to turn Congress. So King marched and Johnson maneuvered and
Congress folded.
NEWS
COVERAGE:
President Johnson calls for all Americans to back what he calls a
turning point in history.
BILL
MOYERS:
The Civil Rights Act of 1964 ended segregation in public places.
MARCHERS:
"We shall overcome…
BILL
MOYERS:
But they weren’t done. King kept on marching, this time for the
right to vote, and once again Johnson kept his word, and did the
right thing. As one of his young assistants, I stood on the floor of
the House that ides of March when morality and politics
converged, and watched the faces of congress
transfixed…mesmerized… knowing they were riding the surf of
history as the president of the United States enlisted all of us in
the cause.
LYNDON
JOHNSON:
It’s all of us, who must overcome the crippling legacy of bigotry and
injustice. And we shall overcome.
BILL
MOYERS:
As he finished, Congress stood and thunderous applause shook the
chamber. Johnson would soon sign into law the Voting Rights Act of
1965 and black people were no longer second class citizens. Martin
Luther King had marched and preached and witnessed for this day.
Countless ordinary people had put their bodies on the line for
it, been berated, bullied and beaten, only to rise, organize and
struggle on, against the dogs and guns, the bias and burning crosses.
Take nothing from them; their courage is their legacy. But take
nothing from the president who once had seen the light but
dimly, as through a dark glass — and now did the right
thing. Lyndon Johnson threw the full weight of his office
on the side of justice. Of course the movement had come
first, watered by the blood of so many, championed bravely
now by the preacher turned prophet who would himself soon be
martyred. But there is no inevitability to history, someone has to
seize and turn it. With these words at the right moment
— "we shall overcome" — Lyndon Johnson
transcended race and color, and history, too — reminding
us that a president matters, and so do we.
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