Remembering the original Freedom Riders

The current issue of The New Yorker includes several fascinating articles, two of which prompted me to write my first-ever letter to the editor to the publication. (I have decided that the sense of righteous indignation that prompted this act was proof that I am, truly, becoming a curmudgeon.) One of the two pieces focused on the invaluable role that copy editors play in their top-quality publication (and others of similar repute). The second essay was a lengthy review of several books by and about the legendary James Baldwin, and how racism and the quest for civil rights affected his life and work as well as that of other famous African-American writers. My letter, which it appears will not be published (lacking the humorous quality that makes many accepted by the publication stand out), said: It is ironic, if not serendipitous, that the same issue which profiles the magazine’s exhaustive commitment to copy editing should, in an article about James Baldwin (“Another Country,” February 9th), include the following inaccurate reference to the year 1943: “More than a decade before the earliest stirrings of the civil-rights movement, the only way to conceive this fight was from within.” Claudia Roth-Pierpont mentions the Congress of Racial Equality in her essay, noting that Baldwin traveled the U.S. South in 1963 on CORE’s behalf. Yet she somehow overlooks the civil rights work that CORE and others did in previous years, including throughout the 1940s. CORE was founded in 1942, and held sit-ins within its first year. In 1947, in collaboration with the Fellowship of Reconciliation, from whose roots CORE had grown, the first “freedom ride” to the U.S. South was launched. A group of more than a dozen black and white men, including Bayard Rustin, traveled on the “Journey of Reconciliation,” seeking to desegregate interstate buses, 14 years before the more famous Freedom Rides captured our country’s imagination. At that same time, A. Philip Randolph was leading a charge to integrate the armed forces. That threat of massive civil disobedience led President Truman in July 1948 to order an end to military discrimination based on race. It is incorrect to date the beginnings of the civil-rights movement to the mid-1950s, as to do so slights the foundational work for racial equality that took place during prior decades. Interestingly, the town of Chapel Hill, North Carolina, will be holding a major tribute next week to Rustin and the 1947 Journey of Reconciliation. My colleague Ruby Sinreich, FOR’s co-director of communications, is helping to organize events surrounding that observance. One will be a screening of former FOR staffer Robin Washington’s magnificent documentary You Don’t have to Ride Jim Crow and a discussion of Chapel Hill’s civil rights history with the filmmaker. More info to come soon from Ruby about these Feb. 26-28 events; one fine way to observe African-American History Month. Here in Nyack, New York, FOR’s local chapter will host another interesting film screening that relates to issues that especially impact black and brown communities in our nation. The second monthly installment in the new Phil Greenspan Film Festival will feature Hard Road Home, a compelling feature about the challenges facing people who return to society after serving time in prison. I know both the filmmaker, Macky Alston, and the primary subject of this documentary, a charismatic and inspiring New York City resident, Julio Medina. Medina is the founder of Exodus Transitional Community, and previously spent several years in the maximum-security Sing Sing Prison, an infamous institution that I can practically see out of my office window at FOR. I hope many local justice activists will be able to come to FOR’s Shadowcliff headquarters this Sunday, February 22nd, from 2-4 p.m. to attend this intriguing screening and a discussion with a member of the film’s media team, Joshua Olesker.