What Musicians Taught Me About Martin Luther King Jr.’s Dream: NPR

Martin Luther King waves to supporters on August 28, 1963 on the Mall in Washington, DC, during the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, where King gave his famous “I Have a Dream” speech. Many musicians including Marian Anderson, Mahalia Jackson, Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Odetta and The Freedom Singers were also present.

AFP/Getty Images

hide caption

change caption

AFP/Getty Images

Close your eyes and imagine America. What do you see? I guess it depends on who you are, but when I close my own eyes, a very specific image immediately appears. It is a black and white photo that dates from before my time, but is embedded in my landscape of family history and mythology. The priest Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., seen in profile with a quiet smile on his face, his right arm raised to the sky, crossing the obelisk of the Washington Monument in the background. Behind him, the National Mall is filled with people on all sides of the reflecting pool. It’s August 28, 1963 – the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom – and King is giving his “I Have a Dream” speech.

Zoom out. What we don’t see in the picture is the chaos that framed that moment and the two centuries of history that made it so necessary, but clearly captured in this image is the hope that is possible in America, the urge to come together in pursuit of a dream.

Zoom in again. About 250,000 people were at the site that day, having traveled thousands of kilometers by plane and train, by bus and on foot. Among them were civil rights leaders and legends like Rosa Parks and celebrities from Jackie Robinson to James Baldwin to Paul Newman. And there was music at the march. Marian Anderson, Mahalia Jackson, Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Peter, Paul and Mary, Odetta and The Freedom Singers sang spirituals, freedom songs and folk songs as the audience sang along. As a musician who cares quite a bit about hope and peace and freedom, I’ve always thought how incredibly lucky those artists were to be a part of such a proud moment in our history.

But maybe I was looking through rose-colored glasses. The other night I heard an interview with Rita Moreno, who was standing on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial that day, only about 10 feet from Dr. King. She went to the march because Harry Belafonte had invited her, and it was an unforgettable experience that changed her life. But she was afraid to participate, she said. She had just won an Oscar for her role as Anita in West Side Story – the first Latina ever to win an Oscar. Participation in the march threatened serious professional implications; she was afraid she would never work again, that she would be blacklisted in Hollywood. She was afraid of the physical violence that could so easily have broken out that day. But in her own words: “At some point in life you have to take responsibility … you have to be responsible for what is.” She faced her fears and emerged.

American artists emerged through all the turmoil and turmoil of the 20th century. The great American contralto Marian Andersen gave a historic concert to an integrated audience on these Lincoln Memorial steps in 1939, the same year Billie Holiday first sang and recorded “Strange fruit“. Paul Robeson, Pete Seeger and Woody Guthrie faced off Ku Klux Klan attacks at a concert to the Civil Rights Congress in Peekskill NY 10 years later. American musicians from Hazel Scott to Aaron Copland confronted the personal and professional dangers of the McCarthy-era blacklists. Joan Baez was just 22 years old when she led the crowd in singing “We Shall Overcome” at the March on Washington. It was only three weeks later when members of the KKK in Birmingham, Ala. bombed the 16th Street Baptist Church, killing four young girls—a horrific act of violence that inspired Nina Simone to write her song “Mississippi Goddam.”

Musicians perform in front of 25,000 civil rights marchers in Montgomery, Ala. after a speech by Martin Luther King Jr. on March 25, 1965. Cast (left to right) includes Mary Travers, Harry Belafonte, Leon Bibb, Joan Baez and Oscar Brand.

Stephen F. Somerstein/Getty Images

hide caption

change caption

Stephen F. Somerstein/Getty Images

This is all history now, captured in photos and film clips and recordings that have acquired the patina of legend. But at that time there was nothing photogenic about to appear. It was an act of resistance and courage that required facing real and present dangers. Judy Collins has told me about threatening encounters on dark country roads when she was down in Mississippi registering voters in 1964. I spoke with pianist and producer Robert Glasper, who said he heard from Harry Belafonte about the threats he faced in the course of his own remarkable activism. You can listen to Pete Seeger’s yourself first hand account of the violence at the 1949 Peekskill concert.

If Martin Luther King had not been assassinated in the prime of his life, he would be 96 years old today. Imagine what the alternate reality version of America might look like. There has been so much violence and hatred since that hopeful August day in 1963 – so many reasons to give up hope altogether. As a musician, given the long arc of history, I realize that now is my turn to show up, to be ready and willing to pursue the dream that Dr. King fought for, along with so many of that generation, including my own parents. I don’t know exactly what that will mean – maybe facing my own fears, maybe more. But I do know that it means holding on to what I love about American music and making good use of its power to unite us when nothing else seems to.

Tonight, some of my musician friends are coming together in New York City for what we’re calling a “Reflection on America” ​​to honor Dr. King on his birthday by centering hope and love, resistance and perseverance. We play and sing old songs and new, remember the past and contemplate the present. MLK loved music and he believed in its power. And that day on the Lincoln Memorial steps, music was his metaphor as he spoke of what he envisioned for America: “to transform our nation’s clanging discords into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood.” I try to stay focused on the beautiful sight. As hard as it may be to see clearly right now, I’m keeping my eyes wide open.