Fifty years ago this April, Rev. Martin Luther King was assassinated in Memphis, Tennessee. He was just 39 years old. Today we look back at the last three years of King’s life, beginning after President Lyndon Johnson signed the Voting Rights Act of 1965. Despite passage of the monumental legislation, King set his eyes on new battles by launching a Poor People’s Campaign and campaigning to stop the Vietnam War. King’s decision to publicly oppose the war isolated him from many of his closest supporters.
Peter Kunhardt, Trey Ellis, Taylor Branch talking:
We came up with the title of King in the Wilderness late in the editing of the film. And it was based on the fact that we were overcome by the fact that King was struggling in every possible way during those last three years, trying to find his way as he branched away, or in addition to his work on racism, to work on poverty, to work on moving his movement north to the Northern cities and to oppose the war in Vietnam. And as he did this, his support, that he had enjoyed all during the early part of the civil rights movement, vanished. And he was left with no roadmap. He felt his friends abandoned him. And he was alone and struggling and trying to find his way. And we just felt that the title captured that kind of loneliness that he experienced.
to me, I want to say first, it was such an amazing experience to talk to these people that were all of my parents’ generation and to talk to Xernona Clayton, who opens our film and said Martin died of a broken heart. It’s really heartbreaking. And then, when I talked to Diane Nash, and she said she happened to know my parents from—at Howard University, and I didn’t know that until I interviewed her. So, it really—my journey of interviewing all these legends was really transformative for me. These are all people that I knew just from books.
Diane Nash is really one of—I think of her as Wonder Woman a little bit, like the—she’s a legendary civil rights activist, really responsible—Taylor will know more—but for the march to Selma, the voting rights movement in Alabama, the lunch counter movement in Nashville when she was a student at Fisk. But she was also a mother and had to—you know, she had all the problems of being a woman in the movement and being a legend in the movement, where we know who John Lewis is—he’s a congressman and a household name—and Diane Nash should be as famous as him. And hopefully, I think, with—this film might help with that.
she’s still—to this day, she’s still very fiery. And she says this—the idea of the cult of personality, the idea of us, as the people, sort of ceding our sense of agency to one or two leaders, she’s really very much against that. And she speaks pretty eloquently about how we have to find the movement in ourselves, and each of us has to pitch in. And so I think that—and she, being on the ground floor, she knew that there were other people around Dr. King that were also great leaders. And it’s sort of easy for us to sort of outsource our activism to people who are more active than us.
within a month of Selma, in 1965, he was saying, “We have to go north.” And the staff, including Diane, did not want him to go, did not want to go north. “We still have work to do in the South.” That’s what she said. But King became more determined. He was reluctant in the early years. He was trying to make the movement climb up. He gets the Nobel Peace Prize. Andy Young said, “We wanted to have chicken dinners and congratulate ourselves for 20 years.” He says, “No, we want to go to Selma.” As soon as Selma was done, he says, “We want to go north to show America that the race issue has never—is not, and never has been, purely Southern.” And the staff didn’t want to go.
Then he—all the staff, except for one person, was against his coming out and making the Riverside Church speech against Vietnam. And none of the staff—the film shows how much staff dissension there was on the Poor People’s Campaign, and then on Memphis. So, there was a downward pull of King in the last years, where he felt compelled to make a witness on things that he didn’t have confidence were going to be big breakthrough moments like “I Have a Dream” or the Civil Rights Act of 1965. So, he’s in the wilderness, and he’s lonely, but he is much more of a leader, almost a possessed leader. “We have to do this.” He even made a speech to his staff saying, “We have to finish. There’s a quote in Revelation: ‘We have to finish on our principles, even if we have very little left.’”
the Meredith March was a watershed in the public perception of the movement. It was the birth of Black Power. Stokely had just taken over the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee from John Lewis. Lewis was ousted because he was too much like Martin Luther King, too steadfast in nonviolence. And when Meredith got shot, Dr. King and Stokely were thrown together in continuing his march through Mississippi.
James Meredith was—had his own solo March Against Fear to try to inspire black Mississippians, who were afraid to go to the courthouse to register to vote after the Voting Rights Act. And he said, “If I can march through Mississippi by myself, then you shouldn’t be afraid to register.” But on the third day out, he was shot by white people who were angry that he was trying to rally black people to vote.
And civil rights leaders, many of whom weren’t—they weren’t consulted about this march, but they felt they had to continue it, because it was so public. And it threw Dr. King together with the new SNCC leader, Stokely. And Stokely said, openly, that he used the fact that all the press came with Dr. King to announce this new doctrine to make the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee not be so much second fiddle. They had always felt Dr. King got all the publicity, and they were spending more time in jail.
And he pronounced this new doctrine: “We want Black Power!” And it mesmerized the media. To this day, I mean, it’s more popular. There are a lot of nonviolent movement veterans who are embarrassed that they were nonviolent, because Black Power became so popular. And Dr. King would argue with Stokely, marching down the road, and there are scenes of that. But then, at night, they would argue. With a reporter between them.
they wanted—the march was very integrated, the March Against Fear. Remember, it’s 220-something miles. It went on for almost a month. It’s bigger than the Selma March.
But its significance is that it marks this big transformation between violence and nonviolence, or the opening of a debate. And Stokely would say, “How come we have to be nonviolent? How come America admires nonviolence only in black people, but otherwise they admire John Wayne, you know? And why do we have to do that?” And Dr. King would say, “We don’t. I’m not telling you you have to do it. What I’m telling you is that nonviolence is a leadership doctrine. It’s ahead of America. If we become violent, it’s not that we’re stepping up to be like John Wayne. It’s that we’re stepping back from nonviolence to try to move the country toward reconciliation, toward votes, nonviolence, toward spirituality.”
So they had this big argument about whether the civil rights movement needed to be nonviolent, whether it was—whether it was effective, whether it was principled, and what kind of leadership strategy it was. And that debate dominated the last couple years of Dr. King’s life.
I was surprised by—I wrote, but I didn’t feel as—I wrote in my book that these thousands of white people would come out and throw bricks. And it was women with pocketbooks, and they’d hit people with pocketbooks, and they’d yell and scream. But to write it is different, based on source material, than to see Nazi signs and people yelling and screaming in Chicago. It was a very rough place.
There were lots of swastikas and lots of young people involved. Now, on the other side, Dr. King was trying to experiment with nonviolence in the North, and, in many respects, it wassafe. There are no stories, as there were in Memphis, of nonviolence breaking down on the movement side in Chicago. In fact, a number of gang leaders would come up to Dr. King’s apartment and argue with him all night, and a number of gang leaders were in those marches. So, he had the Blackstone Rangers and a number of them in these marches. In some respects, it was the far reaches of the laboratory of who could be nonviolent and whether or not it could work.
But what you get out of the film is you see the other side of it. Dr. King said, “We have to show America that there’s a race problem in the North, because you’d be surprised how many millions of people think that there is no more race problem since we passed the civil rights bill.” And in that one little task, they succeeded admirably. Nobody really argued that there was no racism in the North, after Chicago.
He was hit by a brick on that same march, and once or twice by a rock. Of course, he was struck many times, stabbed. You know, violence had always been close to him his whole life, before Memphis. That wasn’t new. But I think, in Chicago, even what Andy said—down in the South, you would have a couple hundred Klansmen, you’d be scared. But in Chicago, there were thousands of people, and they were enraged, and you could hear them. It was an angry crowd.
it was quite moving and, in some ways, depressing to see how things—how little movement had been—how segregated still much of the country is, and to hear Diane Nash and the other Chicago people talk about the issues of Chicago and the—I mean, I remember, as a kid, talking about, you know, the Nazis marching in Skokie, Illinois, as well. This kind of Northern—that Northern racism really, while I was interviewing these subjects, was really, on the eve of the Trump—you know, Trump had just been inaugurated when I started these interviews—was certainly reverberating in my head in ways that were—that was troubling.
It wasn’t “We need to include some women.” It’s “Who are the most important people alive, at various stages,” and they were women. I mean, Dorothy Cotton trained the young black children who did the children’s marches in Birmingham. That was her job. She was a singer. And that was one of the great, watershed moments in the civil rights era, when the dogs and the fire hoses came out. She did that. And Diane Nash, who helped her, then took that reaction and said, “We have to do something to answer these kids that got bombed.” And she designed—and there’s a document—what became the blueprint for the Selma—for the Selma voting rights.
So, these are not just women thrown in there. These are women who were central, but they have been not recognized in their true proportions. Joan Baez, very, very significant in the huge arguments within the movement about whether Vietnam or poverty. Marian Edelman, it was her idea, you know, mediating between Dr. King and Bobby Kennedy, to move into the Poor People’s Campaign. So, these are highly significant women, that I think get their due in this film, and you can feel their significance in the interviews.
presidential recordings. So, you have LBJ talking to J. Edgar Hoover, who tells him he’s a faker, Dr. King is a faker, “He’s not for you, he’s against you on Vietnam,” trying to undercut him. You know, just blanket hostility, and you can hear it. But also LBJ talking to Martin Luther King, you know, saying, “This is terrible. What can we do?”
And it was really sad, because in one of the conversations—it was too long to fit in the film—LBJ said, “What we did in Selma, with you mobilizing the public and me being able to give that speech, that’s the way democracy is supposed to work. You know, energized citizen and responsive government, that’s about the best thing that ever happened.” And in that same conversation, they’re talking about Vietnam. And we have that in the film, where you can feel Vietnam pulling them apart and Johnson just being—he said, “My legacy is civil rights, but that’s being threatened by these riots. And I’ve got this war, and my ally, Dr. King, is turning against me on the war.” So, there’s a lot—a lot of passion in those conversations.
– Vince Harding, a close ally of Dr. King, who helped to craft that “Beyond Vietnam” speech, or “Why I Oppose the War in Vietnam,” the speech that Dr. King gave at Riverside Church in New York on April 4th, 1967, a year to the day before Dr. King was assassinated in Memphis.
Vince Harding was a Mennonite student of nonviolence his whole life, who lived in Atlanta, not far from Dr. King. And when the speech was—when he undertook the speech, for reasons that Trey can explain, it was one of the few that he actually wrote out. He had to have it—a condition of doing this was that they wanted to publicize it and get his views out. They wanted a written version of the speech. That Dr. King wrote out.
And normally, Dr. King kind of improvised and winged things. He was like a jazz—but he had to have a formal speech. And he called in a number of people, but, principally, Vince Harding did the first draft of the speech to try to get it right, one moment to speak. And the idea was—the staff didn’t want him to give the speech, but they said, “If you’re going to do it, do it in a way that at least you don’t have—the press will pay attention to it. Don’t do it with a lot of ‘Hey, hey, LBJ, how many kids,’ you know, placards in the background.
“’How many kids did you kill?’ Don’t—with anything provocative. Do it in a nice setting,” turning to Clergy and Laity Concerned and Dick Fernandez. And Trey interviewed Dick Fernandez about how they went in there. But they were trying to make it as palatable as possible and get the world one chance to listen to his comprehensive argument about the history of Vietnam, about the Vietnamese people, about how they viewed our claims that we were fostering this out of concern for their democratic future. And he crafted this comprehensive speech, and nobody listened to it anyway. They said, “You’re a traitor. You shouldn’t”—it was one of the big disappointments in his life.
Next time he saw him—Vince told me that the next time Dr. King saw him in Atlanta, he said, “Vince, you got me really in a lot of trouble, and I’m going to blame you and stuff.” But they survived on gallows humor. And Dr. King was a champion.
– The corporate media, the mainstream media, went after him, from the Times to Time magazine to Life magazine. I have the Life magazine copy still. And they talked about the fact—they said that his speech sounded like a script from Radio Hanoi. They said he had done a disservice to his cause, his country and his people. So, for those young people today who say, “It was easy for King, because everything he did, everyone idolized,” he was slammed.
it was fascinating for me. We begin, in the documentary, talking about when he sort of nudged into the idea of global politics, talking to Ambassador Goldberg with Andrew Young. And anytime he would try to say anything except for white Southerners shouldn’t segregate, he was pilloried. So they really tried their best, as Taylor said, to say, “How can we make this strong statement as innocuous, as palatable as possible?”
it’s just amazing, the coincidence that a year to the day after that speech he’s gunned down in Memphis. But the backlash against the speech wasn’t only the media or the white community. It was also Roy Wilkins and the NAACP. All the black clergymen were very concerned. And even inside the SCLC, they were very concerned.
The Southern Christian Leadership Conference, which he led, they were concerned. Their money dried up. He had no friends. And that’s when Xernona says—Xernona Clayton, his great adviser, who begins our film, says he died of a broken heart. That’s really one of those great reasons, that everybody seemed to have turned against him, with his turn against the war.
after the coming out against the war in Vietnam—and he’s really at his lowest point. Some people might say, and Andy Young would say, “You deserve it. If you want to just be—you know, take over Riverside Church and live in the Upper West Side of Manhattan, you know, you deserve it.” Right? He said, no, he still wanted to fight longer.
And the first interview I did was with Marian Wright Edelman. And when she said that—we have her on tape saying, when she came to—when she visited the poor in Mississippi with Bobby Kennedy, and Bobby Kennedy said to her, “Tell King to bring the poor to Washington,” which goes to Taylor’s point about having the public/private, how governance works best, how King and LBJ could work together—when she brought that message to King, she goes into his office, he’s very, very sad. She tells him this idea from Bobby Kennedy and her, and he lights up.
And it’s really—I think he saw this as like this—and he talks about this march on Washington, this Poor People’s Campaign. He really envisioned it as bigger than the “I Have a Dream” speech. He figured this as like this would be all Americans—white, black, Hispanic. All poor people would march on Washington, and real big transformative change. And when you see that it’s—the plans for that march and what could have been in that march cut short by this assassin’s bullet, this murderer’s bullet, it’s really quite heartbreaking.
One reason that he may have lit up so much is this idea of racism, poverty and war, that you mentioned. He called it the “triple scourge of evil.” Andy Young mentions it in the film. That was not a new idea for Dr. King. It’s the theme of his Nobel Prize lecture, that they are related—racism, poverty and war, the violence of the flesh and violence of the spirit. So, he had done racism. He had done war, in Vietnam. And poverty is equally violent, in his worldview. So, an opportunity to make an explicit witness on the third leg of this, what he called the “ancient triple scourge” of racism, poverty and war, I think, was something that he knew he needed to do to make his message complete, because he had been speaking about this, but he hadn’t been demonstrating on poverty.
I will just talk a little bit about the origins of Memphis. The staff—he had—it took, as the film shows, an enormous effort to get the staff behind the Poor People’s Campaign. There were a lot of dissension. Some people said, “If you don’t end the Vietnam War, it doesn’t matter what we do.” And other people said, “We still have segregation in the South and in the North, and we should be on race relations.” So he finally gets them to going on the Poor People’s Campaign and their plans, and then this incident happened in Memphis.
The strike started because two of the sanitation workers were crushed to death in the back of a cylinder garbage truck, when they were not allowed to seek shelter in rainstorms, because they were all black, and their rules did not allow them to seek shelter in any white neighborhood, because it offended white people. And the only place they could find shelter is in the garbage, with the garbage itself. And a broom fell and hit a lever and compacted them, literally crushed them. That’s the origins of “I Am a Man,” meaning they picked that slogan because the whole strike was—it was economic, but it was also just essential dignity. They were being crushed like the garbage that they were picking up, and nobody cared.
They carried these signs that said “I Am a Man.” And the person that was leading the demonstrations, Jim Lawson, was one of Dr. King’s old mentors in nonviolence. And he calls him and says, “Martin, can you come?” And so, that’s where the—Trey did most of the interviews about Memphis, but that’s where it was. He said, “I have to go to Memphis. If we don’t answer this—yes, it’s a diversion, but it’s from Jim Lawson, and if these people don’t personify what the Poor People’s Campaign is going to be about, nobody does.” So he once again drags his staff to Memphis as a diversion from Poor People’s Campaign.
I think what’s really amazing about it, we have this—every time that, you know, when he wanted to go north, when he wanted to go against the war, he was getting this pushback from his staff. And then, now there’s such dissent, that they actually—he has a little hunger strike, right? That like he’s just—it’s the first time that, Andy Young will say, that he can’t get through to them. And he just has to do something really extreme, so they will—they will listen to him.
To me, an extraordinary moment is like when he goes to the first Memphis March, and it goes badly, and some people, for some—it’s unclear what all their reasons were, but some people in the back are taking those “I Am a Man” wooden placards and using them to break some windows, or they’re agent provocateurs. Things are happening, and the march is a disaster. I am most impressed by Dr. King when he’s on the film and he says, “Yes, it was terrible, and I should have done a better job organizing this march. I shouldn’t have just jumped in, and sight unseen, into this march.” You never see—there’s not a single politician I’ve ever heard in my life who would admit to that kind of a mistake. And then, when he comes back, he’s really redoubling his efforts to come back next time and make it right.
Tension broke out after that march. They went back to Atlanta. And a lot of the staff, who had not wanted to go to Memphis in the first place, thought that they were right: “We shouldn’t have gone to Memphis. Violence broke out there. We told you you shouldn’t do it.” And other people said, “Yes, we should be doing these other things.” And to Dr. King, he was possessed: “We have to show them that—we have to go back and rectify this. We have to show them that nonviolence can work.” And he had some of his staff people saying, “Martin, you can’t assume the burden of making every black person in Memphis adhere to nonviolence. These were young kids who thought they could name a name for themselves by being militant. You can’t impose that.” And he said, “We have to make an effort.” And so, he was possessed to get everybody behind him. And he was mad at them, said, you know, “Don’t tell me you’re for me. You know, I’m out here alone on this.” And so, it was a very, very rare moment. He yelled at all of them. They chased him, tried to—couldn’t find him. He went off and slept one night. And so the staff went to Ralph Abernathy, who got his wife to cook some catfish, and took him to try to talk him back.
Anyway, so they went all—they went back united to Memphis. And that’s where they were when the assassination happened. So they were trying to rectify this error and prove that nonviolence was still pertinent. And they had to get a court order to allow them to vote again. And Andy Young was in court all the last day and comes back—comes back from court, and says Martin hit him with a pillow and that they had a pillow fight like a bunch of 10-year-olds and were laughing.
Dr. King the night before he was killed. This was April 3rd, 1968, “Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn’t matter with me now, because I’ve been to the mountaintop. I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And he has allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over, and I’ve seen the promised land. I may not get there with you, but I want you to know tonight that we, as a people, will get to the promised land! So I’m happy tonight. I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man! Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the lord!”
– That’s Dr. King, hours before—the evening before he was assassinated.
it was really amazing talking to someone like Jesse Jackson, who you think you know, from—as such a public figure, to get him to really open up in a very personal way and to really tear up about this story. Really, that’s the part of me, as a narrative filmmaker, talking to someone, almost like as a director, trying to put them back into this space that I know is very uncomfortable for them.
So, as he starts telling this story, I don’t know where it’s going first. I see him and Dr. King—he describes Dr. King teasing him about not wearing a tie. And he says, “Oh, I just need an appetite for”—and then he says—and he makes a jump. Jesse Jackson makes a jump. And I just jumped out of my chair. And he describes the bullet severing Dr. King’s tie. And it’s just one of the most harrowing moments of my life, talking to him about that.
And then he says, “I had to call Coretta Scott King.” And so, it was just—and this is a young guy, Jesse Jackson, a former football player, big guy. He’s got to do the hardest thing of his life, right? He’s got to call her. And he says, “I just—he got shot in the shoulder.” He said, “I couldn’t tell her. I couldn’t tell her the truth.”
The film shifts, really, to Coretta, in a way, then, and the footage centering around Coretta handling this shock, back in Atlanta, from the house, that we’ve seen Xernona Clayton and other people in the film, where Dr. King left. And it assembles—and Andy Young says, quite forthrightly, “We could not hold the movement together without Dr. King.”
– And the funeral took place in the Ebenezer Baptist Church, the church of Dr. Martin Luther King and his father. You see his father breaking down. Coretta Scott King is stoic as she stands next to the open casket of her husband.
It’s really one of the most painful moments of the script. But I also want to talk about—it’s one of the most painful moments of the film. But in terms of how progressive Dr. King is—and that’s what’s so sort of pertinent for now—he talks about, in the film, a universal income, how that would be a good idea. He talks about how he wants to internationalize the, you know, anti-poverty and antiwar movements. And he talks about subsidies. He says, “Listen, if it’s for poor people, it’s called ‘welfare.’ If it’s wealthy people, and we put in highways, or the GI Bill, then it’s just called ‘subsidies.’” He’s really—everything he was saying is so prescient. It’s so exactly what we need right now.
I think this film is a great opportunity in two respects. First of all, it shows a side of Dr. King that I think most people not only don’t know, but will find shocking, that he suffered, that he was on these issues toward the end of his life.
But the pertinence is that if we had listened to him and accepted him as a leader on the issues he cared about—racism, poverty and war—we wouldn’t live in a cynical era. A lot of our politics in the last 50 years has been denying the leadership of the civil rights movement, that spread to the women’s issues and to gay rights movements and to all sorts of things. But our politics are cynical because we don’t—Trump is only making explicit what a lot of the anti-government, anti-we-the-people cynicism that’s been pervasive in our society.
And I’m hoping that we’re turning, at the end of this 50-year cycle, so that King’s spirit could join together with Black Lives Matter and the #MeToo movements, because without his discipline to recognize that it’s both spiritual and political—you put one foot in the scripture, one foot in the Constitution—we don’t have the depth to make—to turn it around. But I think it’s very, very topical, because this film is about Dr. King struggling with the issues that our country needs to struggle with now.
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Peter Kunhardt
longtime documentary filmmaker and director of King in the Wilderness.
Trey Ellis
writer and executive producer of King in the Wilderness.
Taylor Branch
Pulitzer Prize-winning historian who wrote the America in the King Years trilogy.
— source democracynow.org