REMEMBERING MARTIN LUTHER KING JR. 50 YEARS LATER
A woman walks Tuesday past a mural of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. on the side of a diner, painted by artist James Crespinel in the 1990s and later restored, along Martin Luther King Jr. Way in Seattle. The civil rights leader was assassinated 50 years ago today in Memphis. For King’s three surviving children, the loss has not gotten easier in the last halfcentury, but they each bear it on their own terms.
Atlanta — On April 4, 1968, a movement lost its patriarch when the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. was killed on a hotel balcony in Memphis.
Yolanda, Martin, Dexter and Bernice King lost their father.
The loss has not gotten easier in 50 years, but his three surviving children each bear it on their own terms.
“That period, for me, is like yesterday,” said Dexter King, now 57. “People say it’s been 50 years, but I’m living in step time. Forget what he did in terms of his service and commitment and contribution to humankind ... I miss my dad.”
His children cling to the few memories they have left of him. For years, they have had to publicly mourn a man who was among the most hated in America at the time of his death — a task they have been reluctant and, at times, angry to carry out.
Now that King is among the most beloved figures in the world, his heirs are forced to share him with the multitudes who have laid claim to his legacy. For more than a decade, they have had to do this without two of the family’s cornerstones: their mother, Coretta Scott King, who died in 2006, and eldest child, Yolanda, who died in 2007.
As adults, the siblings have earned a reputation over their infighting, which has spilled into rancorous lawsuits over heirlooms including their father’s Bible and Nobel Peace Prize. Today, the three say they are in a “good place” and have managed to compartmentalize their differences and come together as a family in times of difficulty.
Their recollections are a reminder that at the center of this tragedy was a young family, robbed of a loving husband and father, who was just 39. All are older now than King was. The tributes to their dad — from the buildings and streets that bear his name, to statues in his home state and in the nation’s capital — are points of pride, but also constant reminders of the void he left.
Happier times
Martin Luther King III’s eyes crinkle into a smile as he recalls the happier times: in the pews at Ebenezer Baptist Church on Auburn Avenue in Atlanta helping his dad greet new members, tossing a football or baseball on the lawn of the family home, swimming lessons at the YMCA.
When he came home from the front lines in the fight against racism, King’s somber expression would give way to smiles and a playful mood. For them, he was not an icon, but a buddy.
King III and his brother also traveled with King. Months before he was killed, they accompanied King as he mobilized people in South Georgia to attend his upcoming Poor People’s Campaign in Washington.
“That was our time for camaraderie,” recalled King III, now 60.
King III said he can still get emotional around his father’s death. If he listens too closely to King’s “Drum Major Instinct” speech, in which the preacher muses about wanting to live a long life, he still gets moved to tears.
Bernice King, the youngest, was once envious of her siblings, who had many more memories of King. Shared stories from her mother, sisters and brother, as well as home movies, helped humanize her father.
Nicknamed “Bunny,” Bernice King said she cherishes the scant moments she remembers sharing between father and daughter, like the “kissing game” they would play.
“That stayed with me so vividly,” said Bernice, now 55. “I’m glad I had that, because everything else, other than a few memories of being at the dinner table, I don’t recall. I wish I knew him more.”
Fateful night
the kitchen telephone, started screaming and fell backward.
Dexter, then 7, knew the worst had happened.
When King’s body returned to Atlanta, Dexter remembered running up and down the aisle of the airplane, and seeing his father’s coffin on the floor.
“I asked my mom, ‘What’s that?’” he said. “She explained, ‘Your dad is going to be sleeping when you see him and he won’t be able to speak with you. He’s gone home to be with God.’”
He was again struck by the people’s reaction at his father’s funeral, as a seemingly endless sea of mourners formed a funeral procession through Atlanta.
“There’s Dad, and there’s the leader the world owns,” Dexter continued. “Generally, I accept that. But he had a family. As kids, we did not choose this life. And I don’t know that my dad chose it. It really chose him. We’re human, and in some ways, we’re still grieving.”