Tougaloo College, nestled in a mini-forest of live oak trees overhung with Spanish moss, dates its origins to 1869. One might think that's history enough. Not so, says Tougaloo President Beverly Hogan.
There are plans afoot to establish a Mississippi civil rights museum on a portion of the college's 500 acres, she said.
'We've talked to [legislative leaders] and they are in favor' of giving $1 million toward the construction, with the rest coming from the federal government and private sources. Hogan made this surprise announcement during a Voices of Civil Rights Bus Tour stop at her campus Sunday evening.
Before she spoke, Leslie McLemore, a Jackson State University professor and a member of the Jackson City Council, had called on those assembled to use the Voices project as incentive for starting such a museum:
'We need a civil rights museum in Mississippi and let us use this initiative from AARP to do that,' said McLemore, a long-time activist.
Earlier in the day, the Voices bus tour made stops at three African American churches in Jackson.
'Don't say you can't do it because everybody can do it. When God calls, you can.' This was the refrain of the Reverend Patrick Phillips of the Central United Methodist Church.
Pastor Phillips was talking to his congregation about current affairs, such as contributing to the church by ushering, singing in the choir, or fixing houses in the blighted neighborhood surrounding the church.
His church, like many others, went beyond baptizing its young and burying its dead, providing a haven for those in the movement. It offered solace, spiritual sustenance, and hope to such people as church member Wilbert Taylor.
Taylor had left Jackson for Chicago but returned in 1964, after serving in the Army and the Air Force. In the '40s, he said, the segregated Army 'left us with the menial work,' such as serving food to the white officers. 'We had no opportunity to advance intellectually. And there was no promotion for us.'
He dared to protest: 'I did not join the Army to serve officers. I joined to serve my country.' He knew that there would be punishment. But 'there was no other option.' He was reprimanded. His punishment, though not physical, left a memorable imprint in his now 78-year-old memory: He had to wash out garbage cans.
