Mourners quietly reflect at King’s tomb

Greg Bluestein

ATLANTA — Before dawn, the final resting place of Martin Luther King Jr. and Coretta Scott King was an oasis of peace.

In a few hours, radio stations would blast their reports from loudspeakers only yards away along Auburn Avenue, the downtown street where King lived and worked. A daylong parade of mourners would start to stroll by. Television reporters would use the stately marble tomb as a backdrop for live broadcasts.

But for now, at the start of this Martin Luther King Jr. Day, it was serene.

A steady morning breeze passed over the tomb, an island in the midst of a powder blue reflecting pool. And every few minutes, a handful of admirers would make their way to it and quietly reflect on the lives of King and his wife, Coretta, who died only a few weeks after the last King holiday.

Daphne Johnson, one of the tomb’s first visitors on this holiday, said she was baptized at King’s Ebenezer Baptist Church by the civil rights leader himself. She came to honor the couple together for the first time.

“They’re together at last,” she said.

Wearing a loud hat and a quiet smile, Laura Brown strode toward the tomb and bowed her head.

At that moment, the 73-year-old said memories of her civil rights past rushed back.

She remembered how King and his volunteers taught her the meaning of nonviolent protest. How she learned to withstand taunts and insults. How she gained the strength to stare down the racists who spit in her face. How she built the courage to integrate restaurants and grocery stores, bathrooms and diners.

And how she became an “adopted sister” of Coretta’s who still grieves for the civil rights matriarch.

“She was right here in my heart,” Brown says, clutching her chest. “I’m just right now beginning to absorb it, because her spirit is here.”

She starts to shake her head, slowly.

“She has so much work left to do. I know. I know. She has so much work left to do.”

Tonya Towns wanted to witness history. The 42-year-old had visited the tomb before. But it wasn’t complete, she says. Now that the two were side by side, it was.

“It’s amazing to see them resting together,” she says, and her voice chokes up.

“You never see something like this. Two powerful people together. It’s empowering to see.”

The display of the tomb is profoundly understated. There are no grand proclamations or gaudy floral arrangements. Earlier in the morning, a staffer had even climbed across the pond to remove a wreath and kick off a few coins that visitors had lovingly tossed at the tomb.

To Gordon Sellers, who organizes an annual march each King day, seeing the two together reminds him of their sacrifice.

“And I’m thanking God that I’m able to draw from that sacrifice.”

Every year, Winfred Christian brings his son, Stephen, to King’s tomb to try to gain meaning from his words.

Today, he keeps remembering King’s vision of a “beloved community,” a society where racism, bigotry and prejudice wouldn’t be tolerated.

“We’re seeing Dr. King’s beloved community unfold before our eyes,” Winfred says, a twinkle in his.

And he wants to make sure his 17-year-old son knows the rights he has now should never be taken for granted. Stephen, wearing a tie and dress shirt to match his father’s gray suit, seems to understand.

“It’s something Dr. King would want,” Stephen says. “If he were alive, he’d want young people to understand his dream.”

By midmorning, the solitude was gone. Students stood behind the barricades set up along the streets and called the names of civil rights leaders lining up for a memorial service in King’s honor at the church nearby. Workers were unloading trucks to set up a stage for a concert in the neighborhood later that day. Armored SUVs and limousines noisily navigated the narrow roads to unload the dignitaries inside.

Yet one sound trumped all else.

From the loudspeakers along the street, King’s unforgettable voice outlined his dream of racial equality, his hope for a more tolerant society.

And even though they had heard it before, they came by the hundreds to hear it once more.

(Associated Press)