stick with Charles, who never believed a man should be anything but free. But he had responsibilities for his family. He wanted a good life for his daughters.
Like his brother, Medgar, Charles had returned from World War II with an active hatred of racism. The NAACP was the most practical outlet for change, and so Charles got involved. He was chairman of voter registration for the NAACP state conference, and he was as passionate a recruiter as Medgar. When the position of NAACP field secretary came up, Charles thought about taking it himself. But he had his businesses to consider, and he knew himself well enough to realize that he wasn’t suited to the NAACP management style. He decided to leave the civil rights work to Medgar, reasoning that he’d make enough money for both of them.
Charles Evers had by then built a small business empire in Neshoba County. He was acquiring a new funeral home, he was selling burial insurance, he ran a cafe, and was starting up a motel in the black section of Philadelphia. He had started the town’s first black taxi service. Charles was so legitimate and prosperous, he had even opened a bank account.
The Citizens’ Councils didn’t like to see a black businessman succeed. But what really brought Charles down was his radio show.
Charles Evers was Mississippi’s first and only Negro disc jockey. A white man owned WOKJ, but he gave Charles a chance to go on the air. Charles didn’t have the slightest idea how to be a disc jockey, but he learned fast, and the sponsors of his blues and gospel show were happy with the response in the black community. Charles made the most of his radio hour. He opened and closed every show by saying, “Pay your poll tax. Register and vote!” He had added two hundred new names to the rolls with his one-man campaign.
The pressure started right away. He couldn’t renew the lease on his cafe or taxi stand. His coffin suppliers were demanding cash up front. Somebody loosened the lug nuts on his car wheels. A white man called warning him about an assassination plot.
The Citizens’ Councils boycotted his radio sponsors. The station owner was a good man, but he was eventually pressured into firing Charles Evers. Charles said he understood. No hard feelings.
But as he was driving away from the station, a woman ran her car into his. She sued him and won. Finally Charles Evers was wiped out. The last straw was when his creditors repossessed his furniture, set it out in the street for everyone to see.
Charles sent Nan and the girls to stay with her mother in Mt. Olive, Mississippi. All he had was twenty-six dollars in change. He loaded up his beat-up car and headed north.
The killings and beatings and financial ruinations of 1955 had the desired chilling effect on the black people of Mississippi. Membership in the NAACP in Mississippi had dropped from 4,639 to 1,716. Soon it was practically an underground organization.
People were paralyzed with fear, terrified of the Citizens’ Councils. There was little for Medgar Evers to do but try to stay alive and hold on to as much of the NAACP membership as he could.
In December 1955 Evers watched with growing excitement as the civil rights movement took a new direction in Montgomery, Alabama. One cold evening a former NAACP secretary and seamstress named Rosa Parks was arrested for refusing to give up her bus seat to a white man. In the wake of indignation that followed the incident, a young minister named Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., led fifty thousand Negroes in a mass boycott of public buses to end Jim Crow practices in the city.
In New York Roy Wilkins and Thurgood Marshall watched the same movement with growing alarm. King and his legions in Montgomery were grabbing public attention — and donations — away from the NAACP. For the first time the old association had a serious rival in the Deep South.
The dilemma of what to do about Martin Luther King threatened to become a crisis in January 1956, a few
Like his brother, Medgar, Charles had returned from World War II with an active hatred of racism. The NAACP was the most practical outlet for change, and so Charles got involved. He was chairman of voter registration for the NAACP state conference, and he was as passionate a recruiter as Medgar. When the position of NAACP field secretary came up, Charles thought about taking it himself. But he had his businesses to consider, and he knew himself well enough to realize that he wasn’t suited to the NAACP management style. He decided to leave the civil rights work to Medgar, reasoning that he’d make enough money for both of them.
Charles Evers had by then built a small business empire in Neshoba County. He was acquiring a new funeral home, he was selling burial insurance, he ran a cafe, and was starting up a motel in the black section of Philadelphia. He had started the town’s first black taxi service. Charles was so legitimate and prosperous, he had even opened a bank account.
The Citizens’ Councils didn’t like to see a black businessman succeed. But what really brought Charles down was his radio show.
Charles Evers was Mississippi’s first and only Negro disc jockey. A white man owned WOKJ, but he gave Charles a chance to go on the air. Charles didn’t have the slightest idea how to be a disc jockey, but he learned fast, and the sponsors of his blues and gospel show were happy with the response in the black community. Charles made the most of his radio hour. He opened and closed every show by saying, “Pay your poll tax. Register and vote!” He had added two hundred new names to the rolls with his one-man campaign.
The pressure started right away. He couldn’t renew the lease on his cafe or taxi stand. His coffin suppliers were demanding cash up front. Somebody loosened the lug nuts on his car wheels. A white man called warning him about an assassination plot.
The Citizens’ Councils boycotted his radio sponsors. The station owner was a good man, but he was eventually pressured into firing Charles Evers. Charles said he understood. No hard feelings.
But as he was driving away from the station, a woman ran her car into his. She sued him and won. Finally Charles Evers was wiped out. The last straw was when his creditors repossessed his furniture, set it out in the street for everyone to see.
Charles sent Nan and the girls to stay with her mother in Mt. Olive, Mississippi. All he had was twenty-six dollars in change. He loaded up his beat-up car and headed north.
The killings and beatings and financial ruinations of 1955 had the desired chilling effect on the black people of Mississippi. Membership in the NAACP in Mississippi had dropped from 4,639 to 1,716. Soon it was practically an underground organization.
People were paralyzed with fear, terrified of the Citizens’ Councils. There was little for Medgar Evers to do but try to stay alive and hold on to as much of the NAACP membership as he could.
In December 1955 Evers watched with growing excitement as the civil rights movement took a new direction in Montgomery, Alabama. One cold evening a former NAACP secretary and seamstress named Rosa Parks was arrested for refusing to give up her bus seat to a white man. In the wake of indignation that followed the incident, a young minister named Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., led fifty thousand Negroes in a mass boycott of public buses to end Jim Crow practices in the city.
In New York Roy Wilkins and Thurgood Marshall watched the same movement with growing alarm. King and his legions in Montgomery were grabbing public attention — and donations — away from the NAACP. For the first time the old association had a serious rival in the Deep South.
The dilemma of what to do about Martin Luther King threatened to become a crisis in January 1956, a few
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