CHAPTER 2
REACTIONS
NOTHING ABOUT Aubrey Norvell’s life appeared particularly noteworthy until Monday, June 6, 1966, when he started firing a shotgun at an icon of the civil rights era. Norvell and his wife lived in a quiet suburban neighborhood in Memphis, Tennessee. They had no children. They’d married shortly after World War II, a conflict in which Norvell had served with distinction. He and his father had owned and run a local hardware store together until 1963; in recent months he had been unemployed. No one could recall him commenting for or against racial equality, nor did he have any known connections to white supremacy groups.
After firing three shots at James Meredith, Norvell had turned to reenter the roadside underbrush alongside Highway 51. Only then had law enforcement officers recovered from their shock at his sudden attack and arrested the gunman. Norvell offered no explanation for his actions, and his motivations remained a mystery. Perhaps due to Meredith’s prominence, the local judge set a steep bail for the attacker’s release, $25,000, a sum equivalent to more than $180,000 today. This was more than double the typical rate for such offenses, and it exceeded the value of the Norvell home. Unless someone helped to secure his bail, Norvell would remain behind bars until his trial, which was set for November.
Norvell’s silence, his unremarkable past, and his ability to attack Meredith despite the presence of law enforcement prompted widespread speculation. Many people shared a feeling of outrage: How could officials have just stood by and done nothing to stop the shooting? Others seemed annoyed: Mississippi is getting blamed even though the shooter is from Tennessee! Still others appeared bewildered: Why hadn’t Norvell—an experienced hunter with wartime commendation for marksmanship—used deadlier ammunition or aimed to kill?
DATE WALKED: June 7 MILES WALKED: 6 ROUTE: South of Hernando to north of Coldwater
In the absence of a more logical narrative, people began to invent explanations for what had occurred. Maybe Norvell had acted on behalf of a white supremacy effort and the police were in on the plan, some speculated. Or maybe someone sympathetic to the civil rights movement had hired Norvell to shoot Meredith and make Mississippi look bad, others suggested. Those who avoided conspiracy theories were left to conclude that Norvell must have been a confused man during confusing times, acting alone for no apparent reason. Initial press coverage of the shooting compounded the chaos, for some of the earliest and most prominent reports mistakenly claimed that Meredith had been shot dead.
Local law enforcement officers apprehended Aubrey Norvell at the scene of Meredith’s roadside shooting south of Hernando on June 6. Credit 8
Martin Luther King, Jr., had followed the breaking news from his home base in Atlanta, Georgia, two states east of Mississippi. Even after it became clear that Meredith had survived, King and his allies in the civil rights movement prepared to respond. Words of sympathy and concern would not be enough, leaders agreed during phone calls and staff meetings. The movement’s commitment to nonviolence required action, as well. Advocates for racial equality had to resume Meredith’s effort—with or without him—and continue until they reached his objective of Jackson. To do otherwise would allow violence to have the last word. Not acting would embolden those who opposed change.
Reaching that determination was easy; deciding how to execute the plan was not. The dimensions of the undertaking were staggering. Activists viewed the previous year’s walk from Selma to Montgomery as an unprecedented achievement, but the logistical challenges of completing Meredith’s hike dwarfed that undertaking by every measure. Distance. Time. Summer heat. Endless meals. Perpetual housing. Enormous costs. It would be a monumental challenge.
Movement leaders turned almost immediately to the Reverend James Lawson in Memphis for help. This veteran activist had joined the civil rights movement after meeting King in 1957. The two men shared a deep confidence in the power of nonviolence to bring about social change. Lawson had personally trained countless movement volunteers in the principles and practice of nonviolence, and many of his students had become essential activists in the struggle for equal rights. In 1962, Lawson had assumed leadership of Centenary United Methodist Church in Memphis, the region’s largest congregation of black Methodists. His prominence in the movement, his leadership role in the local area, his experience with nonviolent protests, his organizational skills—all these factors and more made him an ideal ally in making plans for a renewed walk.
Movement leaders (from left) Floyd McKissick, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Stokely Carmichael converged on Meredith’s hospital in Memphis, Tennessee, on June 7, one day after he’d been shot. Soon after the trio announced plans to revive his walk. Credit 9
National leaders mobilized overnight, and by Tuesday, June 7, Lawson was welcoming them to Memphis. By day’s end, leaders from all five of the nation’s leading civil rights organizations—the so-called Big Five—would be in town. The first to arrive were King, head of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC) and Floyd McKissick, the newly appointed national director of the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE). They and some key associates piled into Lawson’s family car and headed to the hospital to see Meredith.
Stokely Carmichael, the newly elected chairman of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC, pronounced “snick”) arrived soon after, accompanied by additional representatives of his group. Leaders of two other organizations visited Meredith later that day, as well, Whitney Young of the National Urban League and Roy Wilkins of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP, spoken as “N-double-A-C-P”).
While Meredith, of course, knew all of the Big Five leaders by reputation, he found himself meeting some of them, such as King, for the first time. The arrival of such dignitaries at his bedside reinforced Meredith’s sense of his own importance. King, McKissick, Lawson, and Carmichael offered Meredith their concern and presented him with a proposal. It was clear that he faced a lengthy recovery. He had dozens of open wounds that needed to heal, and he was in no condition to resume marching. While he recuperated, they asked, would he let them organize an effort to continue his walk? If he made a speedy recovery, he could rejoin them later on.
Mississippi state troopers ordered marchers off the pavement when they began walking in honor of James Meredith on June 7. When King objected, an officer shoved him toward the roadside. Credit 10
Overall the concept appealed to Meredith; he appreciated their endorsement of his effort and liked the idea of seeing it completed. But Meredith also realized that letting others carry on without him meant the walk would likely stray from his goals: Gone would be his plan for a small walk under his control from which he could exclude women and children. Meredith weighed the trade-offs and gave his visitors permission to proceed. The three leaders promised to seek his input while he recuperated and to keep Meredith updated as the walk progressed. Everyone agreed they needed to move fast.
Not even 24 hours had passed since Meredith’s shooting, and the news was still hot. By acting quickly, organizers would receive vital media coverage that would boost the flow of volunteers and