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Atlanta and the Ebenezer Baptist Church experience |
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Written by Al Hollingsworth
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Wednesday, 23 January 2008 |
Earlier this week more than 2,000 people crowded into Atlanta’s Ebenezer Baptist Church to honour the memory of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Dr. King’s birthday is January 15, but the federal government set aside the third Monday in January as a national holiday. The man who did more in my lifetime (I have more days behind me than ahead) to bring about racial harmony and equality was gunned down by a cowardly killer on April 4, 1968. He was but 39 years of age.
Reading the accounts of this year’s celebrations brought back a flood of memories.
In 2005, by wife (Sharon) and I spent 10 wonderful days exploring Atlanta. Not for any particular reason, it was simply a place we wanted to see. In brief, the environment is warm, it’s friendly, clean and by big city standards, safe.
The attractions are many and varied. We were fortunate to be there for the annual Dogwood Festival. Acres and acres of incredible art, crafts and food. Also, it just happened to be the opening week of the major league baseball season and, for those who know my passion for the sport, would realize this is as close to heaven as it gets.
We took in a three-game series between the Braves and Mets and two of three with the hometown team and Washington. That was tough one because it was the Nationals’ first season in the US capital and I had always bled the red, white and blue of the Expos.
For the first game in that series, I decided to wear my Expos hat. Just prior to the first pitch a breathless young man, who appeared to be in his mid-twenties, made his way towards our seats. “I spotted your hat from across the field,’ he panted. “I’m from Ohio and I have been an Expo fan since I was a kid.”
We exchanged thoughts about the team’s move, talked of highlights and favorite players and wished the man who engineered the move, Bud Selig the worst of possible things in life.
As he parted, he turned and in a voice I’m sure was heard in the dugouts, screamed:“Expos forever. Nationals never!" To which I offered a three-fold Amen.
The Georgia city has much to offer. Rich in Civil War history, there is much to see and lessons on the subject to be learned. A must see is the Cyclorama and Civil War Museum. In the 1880s before there were movies, cyclormas were popular. This particular one, 42
feet high and three football fields long, sits on a 360 degree rotating platform, and depicts the 1884 Battle of Atlanta.
An interesting piece of information we took away was that the reason General William Tecumseh Sherman was so successful in sacking, looting and burning Atlanta was because prior to joining the Northern Army, he had worked in Atlanta as a surveyor. He had mapped most of the city and knew where to strike the stragetic matches. He also spared several buildings because he knew their value to the community.
Unfortunately, we didn’t get to Stone Mountain, a huge monument to the confederacy.
Of course no visit to Atlanta would be complete without visiting the home of Margaret Mitchell, author of Gone With The Wind. It was difficult to pry my wife, an avid reader, away from the tiny home. For my part, an old media type, our tour of CNN was most memorable. Especially envisioning the more than 300 reporters who were jammed into the giant newsroom on September 11, 2001.
There were other interesting stops like the Jimmy Carter Museum and Library. We spent an entire afternoon there. But it was a stop on Auburn Ave, late into afternoon of April 8, 2005 that will be forever etched in my mind. As we got off the tour bus, we found ourselves in the heart of King Centre. There from a beautiful fountain flowed the waters of everflowing peace, beside it the tomb of Dr. King. And there was a statute of this great human being reaching skyward.
But it was a black sign with white letters that caught my eye and like some magic, began to draw me towards the brick building it hung from. My eyes were fixed on the words “Ebenezer Baptist Church.” This was the hallowed place where both Martin Luther King Jr. and his father had delivered sermons.
We made our way into the lower level of the building and up the stairs towards the church proper. It was nearly five o’clock in the afternoon and every seat was taken. We stood to the back of the balcony as Dr. King Jr.’s voice rang out. They were playing a tape of his famed “I Had A Dream” sermon, and the congregation, mostly African- Americans, hung on every word. I closed my eyes and pictured him standing there ministering to his flock.
It was spine-tingling. Especially when I looked down on the face of an elderly black gentleman, seated next to me, and observed the tears streaming down his face. At that point it was almost 37 years after King’s assassination, and it was clear that even in death, he could still bring the message home.
It is an experience I will never forget.
(Al Hollingsworth is a retired journalist who recommends Atlanta as a special vacation destination)
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