Memphis Blues

For seven weeks racial tensions had mounted in Memphis, as the city's garbage strike escalated into a showdown between Mayor Henry Loeb and more than 200,000 Negroes seeking economic parity with whites. Last week black blues erupted into violence when militants got the opportunity they had been seeking. It was given to them by Dr. Martin Luther King.

The explosion was as senseless as it was inevitable, once King took his 4,500 marchers onto historic Beale Street. A band of young Negroes called the Invaders had been waiting for the event. "We been making plans to tear this town up for a long time," an Invader chieftain told TIME'S Atlanta Bureau Chief Roger Williams. "We didn't dare do it on our own. We needed a crowd. We knew he'd turn out a crowd, and with a crowd the cops would have a hard time laying hands on us." One hundred strong, the Invaders infiltrated the marchers' flanks, planning to disperse in flying squads and riot on cue. Their strategy was upset only because teenagers boiled over even before the scheduled time.

Bloody Beale. Hardly had King, the apostle of nonviolence, led the way out onto the street than the rocks began to fly. Glass shards sprayed from splintered windows. Rioters galloped from downtown store to store. The parade faltered, halted, turned upon itself to retrace its steps. Police fired tear gas at random, as King beat a prudent retreat to his motel, leaving local civil rights leaders to herd the marchers back to their headquarters church. Looting began, and the police lost their cherished reputation for restraint. Cops thwacked away with clubs, and Negroes turned savagely upon isolated officers.

By the end of the day--the tenth anniversary of Memphis Blues-Smith W. C. Handy's death--there were 282 arrests, 62 injuries and one fatality: a 16-year-old Negro shotgunned by police. Nightfall brought double the usual number of fires, most of them in uncollected garbage piled along curbs. Damage was estimated at $400,000--modest by the standards of Watts and Detroit.

Though relatively mild, the rampage panicked authorities. "We have a war!" cried Fire and Police Director Frank Holloman. Mayor Loeb slapped down a curfew, shuttered liquor stores, bars and entertainment places, and stopped the buses. Governor Buford Ellington rushed in 250 state troopers and 4,000 Tennessee National Guardsmen.

Shredded Mantle. King has heard himself dubbed a rabble-rouser before; now, for leaving the march, he was called a coward as well. Ignoring the intransigent role that Mayor Loeb had played in stoking the Negroes' discontent, King's critics called upon him to cancel his "poor people's march" on Washington next month; some demanded federal curbs against it as well. Undismayed, though his nonviolent mantle was in shreds, King vowed to press ahead with the Washington demonstration and lead another march on Memphis this week.

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