◆ SpookStack

om ~ wm -of curteins waved through broken and shat- , tered windows. Then T saw it. ee ‘ON THE EAST SIDE of the viously had been a doorway and ing to it was now an opening large drive a big truck through, What had been the basement of the. church now looked nants of war-torn buildings I had seen in tures. The church had been bombed. The thi cement and brick wall, symetrically and power- fully built to last for years, now was reduced to a mass of rubble. No floor was visible ind debris. A toilet proaches to the church and people were being helped into the many ambulances which had now arrived, “Father,” one of the bystanders said to me, “they are trying to kill all of us.” I could only agree. A well-dressed Negro man was now pleading with the crowd to refrain from violence, It was his church that had been bombed. ‘‘The police will find those responsible for this," he said. A group of young men in the crowd were loudly disagreeing with him, About then helmetted police quietly and cautiously tried to move into the crowd now massed all over the street. A patrol car slowly eased through ‘one section of the surging mass and someone - bounced a large stone off the top of it, Another followed. Other stones began to fly toward the line of police who did their best to dodge them. The minister was still pleading for order. cee MANY OF THE PEOPLE I passed were an- xious to speak. All of them who did so spoke respectfully and quietly. “Reverend”, one man said, “isn't this terrible?” A well-dressed man who looked like he might have been an usher in the bombed church said, “Father, we've got to be patient. ‘Vengence is mine saith the ‘d.' We must not become violent.” A young y with a Bible in his hand walked by cursing idly. . Accidentally 1 bumped into a girl who was al- ady in motion to throw a large rock toward the police in the middle of the street. When she saw me she paused and then dropped the rock when a Negro man standing nearby and tightly holding on to his wife told her not: to s & * very similar to the “How long, O tind it. 1 shook hands with a ministeg ‘who told me that thi Lord, how long!" of the oppressed people of light were slowly moving toward the area. Crowds of people were running here and there, some getting away from the rocks that were flying about, others were calling for children or for loved ones who seemed to have been in the church. eae AS | WAS WALKING away from the church, an elderly looking gentleman’ approached me and asked, “Reverend, why can't they catch the ones who did such a thing? Why don’t they get those who are trying to kill us?" A short time later the second question would have been stated differently for they found the bodies of, four little girls who were killed by the explo. sion. i eae A LAST LOOK at the scene which was be coming more and more frightening by.the min; ute brought once again to my attention the “How long?” of the minister. On this Sunday morning which had begun so quietly and con- tinued so violently this same prayerful ques- tion must surely have been in the hearts and ‘on the lips of many of the good people of Bir- mingham. oe Birmingham — a city that is truly beautiful; a city which glories ‘in a history that was so remarkable it merited for itself the title “the Magic City.” Birmingham—now a name which epitomizes for many throughout the world hatred and violence and brutality. Birmingham —a city whose people now, if not in times past, truly know real fear. My sincere prayer as I walked away and the prayer of many others who, like myself, were born in this city and who love this city, my prayer was that the time would not be so long before this city once again would be known for her beauty, for her good people, for her tranquil and peaceful way of life, for charity towards all men, rather than for such as happened on this overcast :. tragic Sunday morning, 7 “=, rr rs ry “