Remembering The 1964 DNC

I was trapped in the middle of a throng of protestors, shouting their opposition for not being seated as delegates to the 1964 Democratic Convention.

Signs were bouncing up and down above my head. My body unceremoniously pushed along by a massive wave of angry marchers.

An old gospel song, symbolic of the civil rights movement, rang out all around me, the crowd shuffling and singing as it moved along the boardwalk toward the convention center on a hot and humid August night 60 years ago.

“We shall overcome, we shall overcome, we shall overcome someday” was like a disappointed yet hopeful promise notifying the world the oppressed minority would someday be equal.

I was a 22-year-old reporter with press credentials to the Democratic National Convention and had been shocked by the testimony earlier that day of Fannie Lou Hamer, a Black civil rights activist from Mississippi. Ms. Hamer, representing the Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party, told her story of abuse and threats in her efforts to get the right to vote, and was challenging the seats held at the 1964 convention by an all-white delegation from her state.

Her appeal failed, but the Freedom Democratic Party delegates had not given up their protest and were going to peacefully attempt to enter the convention hall. They had been joined by supporters, both Black and white, news reporters, and some, like me, who were curious onlookers swept up by the group’s momentum.

As we neared the convention center, law enforcement presence increased, but the crowd kept moving forward, continually singing, and waving their signs of grievances.

I wormed my way toward the front, holding onto the coattail of a national TV reporter I recognized, desperate to get out of the heated claustrophobic throng and into the less claustrophobic throng shouting their approval for Lyndon B. Johnson being their presidential candidate.

Gasping my approval of being admitted, the reporter turned to me asking if I wanted to go back out after he filed his report. I gawked at him, pointing to my toe that was already beginning to swell after being stepped on and appeared broken, and shook my head. I had a once in a lifetime experience of marching in a civil rights protest, carrying a sign reading ‘Is This America?’, and learning about the sacrifices many have made to get us where we are today.

This year’s Democratic National Convention in Chicago, was a tribute to Fannie Lou Hamer and her activist work 60 years ago moving us a step closer to ‘we shall overcome.’