"Dear Dr. King"

If I could write a letter to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. I would say:
Dear Dr. King:
Even though we were (Morehouse College) brothers, you did not know me. We were at the same places on five or six occassions, but I do not think we were introduced or shook hands.
My brother took a picture of you on the third time we were at the same place, and you graciously posed and smiled. That was after my commencement program at Morehouse in 1959. I have that picture in my aging scrapbook.
Your brother, A. D., and I were classmates, so he might remember me. You and your mentor, Dr. Benjamin E. Mays, were my heroes.
The first time we were at the same place was in Sale Hall Chapel at Morehouse in the mid 1950s. You were briefing a small group of clergymen on the state of the bus boycott in Montgomery. A few of us slipped into the chapel and sat in the back. I think this was the first time I heard you talk about Sister Pollard. Sister Pollard was rather old, and she insisted on walking during the boycott. They began to worry about her and try to get her to ride in the car pool. She was determined to walk. "Aren't you tired," they asked. She replied, "my feets is tired, but my soul is rested."
The second time we were at the same place was at Ebeneezer Baptist Church in Atlanta. It was during academic year 1956-57. You were still pastor of Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama, and you and "Daddy" King exchanged pulpits every year. He was preaching at Dexter Avenue and you were preaching at Ebeneezer.
You preached on WHAT SHALL IT PROFIT A MAN TO GAIN THE WHOLE WORLD AND LOSE HIS ONLY SOUL. You told us how the Democrats had offered you $25,000 to endorse Gov. Adlai Stevenson for president in 1956. And you talked about how the Republicans had offered you $75,000 to endorse President Dwight D. Eisenhower.
You made us laugh when you talked about how you pondered how far that $75,000 would go towards educating all the children you planned to have, but you said you had to turn it down for fear you would gain the world and lose your soul.
Third, you were my commencement speaker 1n 1959. You thrilled us with the charge to remain awake through the social revolution that was taking place.
Finally, you spoke in Richmond, Virginia on the campus of Virginia Union University shortly after the four little girls were killed in the Birmingham, Alabama church bombing. You asked who killed those beautiful children. You indicted the usual suspects, but you did not let us off the hook. You said all of us who had not done enough to pursue justice had to share the guilt.
We have missed you since your death, but you have continued to inspire us. In their book THE MILITANT BLACK WRITER IN THE UNITED STATES AND AFRICA, Stephen Henderson and Mercer Cook said you were a prophet and a poet. You were. Aspects of your poetic dream have come true. The sons of former slaves and the sons of former slaveholders routinely sit down at the table of brotherhood all over the South today.
We now have a national holiday to celebrate your birthday, but that was a compromise. Instead of the January 15th, it is the third Monday so we can have a long weekend. I think you would have mixed emotions about the holiday and the "Make Your Dreams Come True" sales, but it validates you philosophy.
Considerable progress has been made in politics; we are slowly moving towards judging people on their merits. We made history in Virginia by electing an African American, who pushed for honoring your birthday, as the first black governor of any state. We have elected a growing number of brothers and sisters to offices at every level. A brother with African ancestry is a serious candidate for president.
We still have a long way to go. The plight of the have nots may be even worse than when you were alive. We have major problems, especially in the areas of war and peace. But, I will not go into details, and you must rest in peace. You did all you could to push us towards the "Promised Land." It is now up to us. Thank you for your valiant efforts. We will never forget you.
Preston M. Yancy