I was 20 in 1963 when my friend and I walked over to a bus stop near our homes in Washington, DC and boarded a bus that would take us to what would become one of the most momentous rallies this nation has ever seen.
We got off the bus somewhere on Pennsylvania Avenue, perhaps around Connecticut, figuring, as it was 5:30 or so in the morning, we could the few blocks to the Mall. Pennsylvania Avenue was empty, completely so and blocked off to traffic and as we walked down the center of it, past the White House we saw a group in uniforms approaching us.
We thought they were police or the National Guard out for crowd control. How wrong we were as they got closer: It was George Lincoln Rockwell and his American Nazi Party in full regalia and looking for bear.
There was really no place to go: The White House, fully guarded and fenced on our right and Lafayette Park, fenced off on our right, so we figured, maybe we could talk our way through it or otherwise get around these dreadful folk.
As we were about 25 feet apart another group of uniforms approached, this time they were police and the military, there to control the crowd. We continued, perhaps a bit foolishly to approach and were close enough to hear an officer request a “Parade Permit,” which these bigots could not produce. Within minutes a couple of police vans were on the scene and the Nazis were gone.
Thus began a remarkable day, one of the most extraordinary of my life. We thought there would be a pretty good crowd at the rally, though never the 250,000 that’s been estimated and we were right there, through the whole thing, within ten feet or so of the stage.
The speech, of course, was wonderful and I’ve reprinted it here in the off chance that you’ve never read it. Beyond that, Joan Baez and Bob Dylan sang, as well as Pete Seeger and a number of others. I encourage you search the Internet for account of this extraordinary event, particularly in the New York Times and Washington Post.
