In Webb, Mississippi, just two miles south of Sumner, Highway 32 intersects with Highway 49 E. In 1981, an eighteen-mile section of Highway 32 that stretches east-west from Webb to Charleston was designated the Henry Clarence Strider Memorial Highway. Twenty-four years later, on March 21, 2005, Mississippi governor Haley Barbour signed legislation that renamed thirty miles of the north-south-running Highway 49 E as the Emmett Till Memorial Highway.1 More than a few have noted the ironies in seeing these two highways come together. The overtly racist sheriff who declared that Emmett Till’s murder was all a hoax has been confronted by the young teen whose name on the sign serves as official recognition that the once-beloved lawman, the hero of the defense, was wrong.
Given Mississippi’s long, concerted effort to forget the horror and injustice of the Till case, it is stunning that the name change and highway sign honoring the slain Chicago youth came to fruition at all. The proposal came before the Mississippi Senate at the last hour of a Friday afternoon session, its sponsor even giving an unprepared speech.2 The memorial is not an announcement that the defense theory was absurd, but a reminder. For better or worse, it is a constant reminder. No doubt many a Deltan’s blood has boiled during morning commutes on this long stretch of road. The Emmett Till Memorial Highway, unlike the one named for Strider, has the element of collective guilt behind it as much as it does any determination to remember and commemorate. Seeking to right the wrongs of the past can divide people as much as it unifies because people haunted by the past simultaneously live with fear and denial. When haunting evolves into ownership, and then remembrance, peace has a chance to enter the mix—but not without pain and certainly not without controversy.
Over the years, the name “Emmett Till” has provoked anger, bitterness, uneasiness, sadness, guilt, and shame—depending on locale, race, generation, and sometimes even gender. Yet the emotional impact of the case has made it a rallying cry for change. This can be demonstrated in pivotal moments where Emmett Till’s name has been invoked in Congress, and once the partisan or ideological wrangling quieted down, there are times when it has made a difference.
This was evident during the debate that ensued prior to passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1957, the first such law passed in over eighty years. Southern resistance to the Brown v. Board of Education decision in 1954 focused on a greater resolve among white southerners to stifle black voting rights, and President Eisenhower would not long ignore that. The administration tried and failed to pass civil rights legislation in 1956, but after Eisenhower’s reelection in November of that year, Attorney General Herbert Brownell informed Republican leaders that he would introduce the bill again after the first of the year. During his State of the Union speech delivered on January 10, 1957, Eisenhower urged Congress to pass the legislation and outlined to the nation each of its four components. His aim was to form a bipartisan civil rights commission, create a civil rights division within the Department of Justice, expand the authority of the department to enforce civil and criminal proceedings, and authorize the attorney general to protect voting rights through civil suits and preventative injunctions.3
Earlier on the same day that Eisenhower addressed the nation, Michigan representative Charles Diggs Jr. read into the Congressional Record William Bradford Huie’s new Look article, “What’s Happened to the Emmett Till Killers?,” which was a follow-up to Huie’s “The Shocking Story of Approved Killing in Mississippi” piece from a year earlier. Diggs saw the local backlash against J. W. Milam and Roy Bryant as recorded in the new article as “evidence of a change in Mississippi, the significance of which cannot be discounted.”4
Things were not quite that simple, however, either in Mississippi or Washington. Debate about the proposed civil rights bill began on February 4 before a House Judiciary subcommittee, overseen by Brooklyn representative Emanuel Celler, and on February 12 before the Senate Judiciary Committee chaired by Senator Thomas C. Hennings Jr. of Missouri. Brownell tried to reassure the House subcommittee that Part III of the legislation would not trample states’ rights; he then sought to persuade Hennings’s group that the administration had no intention of sending in federal troops to enforce injunction orders. Southern Democrats believed, however, that if enacted, the law “would result in creation of a Federal gestapo” that would recklessly launch investigations into state affairs.5
In addition to their desire to gut Part III of the bill, southern Democrats also came out fighting because Part IV failed to provide for jury trials in cases of criminal contempt in civil rights cases. Advocates of the bill knew that southern juries, all of whom were made up of white men, would never convict anyone in a case involving civil rights. Val Washington, director of minorities for the Republican National Convention, knew how ineffective the courts would be in jury trials and posed a question to Senate majority leader Lyndon B. Johnson. “If a Southern jury would not convict confessed kidnappers of Emmett Till after he was found murdered, why would they convict an election official for refusing to give a Negro his right of suffrage?”6 Johnson, like southerners before him, had always blocked civil rights legislation that came before the Senate. Now that he was eyeing a presidential run in 1960 and knowing full well that the fate of the national Democratic Party rested partly on its stance on such issues, Johnson came out in favor of a moderate civil rights bill.7
Eisenhower and officials within his administration were opposed to the jury trial amendment inserted by southern Democrats and made it clear that they saw this move as a “clever device to nullify the civil rights bill.” Several members of Congress went before the Senate committee and used the Till case when weighing in on either side of the argument. On June 14, during a session of the House of Representatives, Republican Marguerite S. Church of Illinois’s Thirteenth District, told her colleagues, “I myself have had only one personal experience illustrating the need for such legislation to protect civil rights, but it was a potent one.” It had nothing to do with the right to vote “but with the failure adequately to determine and punish those who had taken young life. I refer, or course, to the Emmett Till case. . . . I knew then, Mr. Chairman, that action must be taken to protect the civil rights, at least, of certain of our citizens who are as much American and who are as much entitled to the protection of their rights as anyone who sits in this Chamber as a Member of Congress.” Church then launched into an argument against the jury trial proposal.8
An opposing view came from Mississippi congressman Jamie Whitten, who represented Tallahatchie County and preceded Gerald Chatham as district attorney in that section of the Delta. He, too, pointed to the Till case but declared, “It is easy to second guess either a jury or a judge when one does not know all the facts or even when the facts are known.” He proceeded to tell the story of a case dating back to his days as district attorney when a black man was killed by a white citizen. The white defendant then tried to plead guilty in court. The man’s request was denied because the evidence against him was overwhelming and prosecutors wanted him to go to trial instead. “The defendant was tried in that county before a jury of 12 white citizens. That jury brought in a verdict of guilty, which meant he received a death sentence. I mention that case to show what southern juries do when the facts are sufficient to warrant a guilty verdict.” However, his colleagues’ memories were not as short as Whitten had hoped. In all, six members of Congress brought up Emmett Till during hearings about the bill.9
Opponents of the legislation tried unsuccessfully four times to inject a jury trial amendment, and the administration’s version passed in the House on June 18 by a vote of 286-126.10 Two days later, the Senate voted 45-39 to bypass the Judiciary Committee and send the bill directly to the floor. Senate debate opened on July 8, and lawmakers there began working toward a compromise. On August 2, the Senate added an amendment to the bill guaranteeing a right to a jury trial, and passed the amended bill 51-42. Eisenhower, who had always viewed his bill as a moderate proposal, declared immediately that the modifications would damage the entire judicial system of the United States. On August 7, the Senate approved its compromise bill 72-18.
The revised bill was expected to pass in the House, but was immediately rejected by Republican leader Joseph W. Martin, who declared it would be better to have no bill at all than to pass the Senate’s watered-down version. More debate followed, and on August 21 House Republicans offered their own Eisenhower-backed compromise that would retain the Democrats’ requirement for jury trials for criminal contempt cases but tweaked it to apply only when fines exceeded $300 or imprisonment was set at ninety days or more. Two days later, however, congressional leaders of both parties—Democrat Lyndon Johnson and Republican William Knowland of the Senate, and Democrat Sam Rayburn and Republican Joseph Martin of the House—reached their own deal stipulating that federal judges could determine whether a jury trial would be granted in criminal contempt cases that arose out of federal voting rights injunctions. If judges proceeded unilaterally and convictions surpassed a $300 fine or forty-five days in jail, the defendant could request a retrial before a jury.11
On August 27, 1957, the House passed this compromise bill, 279-97. In the Senate, Strom Thurmond, of South Carolina, made a last-minute attempt to kill the bill by initiating a filibuster on the evening of August 28 that lasted for twenty-four hours and eighteen minutes (still the longest filibuster in the history of the Senate), but that body passed the bill late on August 29 by a vote of 60-15. It was signed by President Eisenhower on September 9.12 Even though the bill had lost many of its original provisions, it was the first civil rights bill passed since Reconstruction, and for that it could be measured as a success. The Civil Rights Division it created is still a vibrant part of the Department of Justice.13
Nearly fifty years later, as Dale Killinger worked to uncover the truth about the Till murder, Congress discussed the Chicago teen once again. After Senators Jim Talent and Charles Schumer and Representatives Charles Rangel and Bobby Rush met together in November 2004 to pressure the Justice Department to speed up its investigation, Alvin Sykes called Talent’s office to voice his dismay at the resolution because a rush to justice could have adverse effects. Sykes left a message for the senator, who soon responded, and the two men talked.
“At best, your resolution is symbolic. It won’t have any impact because they will go at their own pace anyway,” explained Sykes. “At worst, it could interfere with the investigation.”
Sykes advised Talent that if he wanted to make a difference, he should find a way for the federal government to look into the numerous unsolved civil rights cases that had gone ice cold, the victims of which were mostly unknown to the public at large. Sykes’s vision grew out of the quest for justice that he, Keith Beauchamp, Donald Burger, and Mamie Till-Mobley foresaw when they formed the Emmett Till Justice Campaign in 2002. It was hardly feasible to start a justice campaign for each of the many unsolved cases still on the books, but if investigations were centralized and placed under the jurisdiction of the federal government, money would not be an issue.14
Talent liked the idea, and he began work on a bill right away. His strategy was to make it a bipartisan effort. Before long he authored the Unsolved Civil Rights Crime Act (S. 1369) and introduced it before the Senate Judiciary Committee on July 1, 2005; California representative Bob Filner brought it to the House four weeks later, on July 28. Unfortunately, it died in committee.15
After Congress reconvened in early 2006, Talent reintroduced the bill, which went before the Judiciary Committee on April 27, 2006. It called for the investigation of civil rights violations that had occurred prior to December 31, 1969, that “resulted in death.” The committee passed the legislation by a voice vote on August 3, 2006, with an amendment that included the Missing Child Cold Case Review Act. Sponsors tried to pass the bill with “a unanimous consent agreement” before the 109th Congress closed in early December 2006, but that effort failed.16
Talent was defeated in the November 2006 elections and was thus out of the Senate when the 110th Congress convened in January 2007. However, Representative John Lewis of Georgia introduced a new version of the bill in the House of Representatives on February 8. Now called the Emmett Till Unsolved Civil Rights Crime Act, it was cosponsored by over sixty members of the House. “Our purpose here today is not to open up old wounds,” explained Lewis. “There is a need for those who committed horrible crimes to be brought to justice. This process of seeking justice is not just good for history’s sake, but it is good for the process of healing. It will help us put this dark past behind us and to bring closure to the families of the victims of these age-old and vicious crimes.” The bill would create an Unsolved Crimes Section in the Civil Rights Division and an Unsolved Civil Rights Crime Investigative Office within the Civil Rights Unit of the FBI. On June 20, less than two weeks after Lewis’s proposal, the “Till Bill,” as it came to be called, passed in the House by a vote of 422-2. The two votes cast against it came from Republicans Ron Paul (Texas) and Lynn Westmoreland (Georgia).17
The Till Bill was expected to glide through the Senate as well, but Alvin Sykes remained skeptical. He explained his concerns while in conversation with Jackson Clarion-Ledger reporter Jerry Mitchell, who could not foresee any opposition for the bill under consideration.
“This is America,” Sykes retorted. “No civil rights bill ever went through with unanimous consent. I’m waiting for a Bull Connor to emerge.” Eugene “Bull” Connor, the commissioner of public safety in Birmingham, Alabama, during the late 1950s and early 1960s, had been the epitome in his day of racist ideology coupled with power.
Sure enough, opposition caused the bill to languish in the Senate for over a year when Senator Tom Coburn of Oklahoma single-handedly placed a hold on dozens of spending bills. “There’s our Bull Connor,” Sykes declared.18
To help persuade Coburn to ease up, Democratic senators Chris Dodd, Dick Durban, and Patrick Leahy took Simeon Wright to Washington to stand by their sides during a press conference held on July 23, 2008. In response to this tactic, Coburn—who was no Bull Conner in that he meant no malevolence—explained that he supported the Till Bill but thought Congress was recklessly passing legislation with little consideration of the costs—the bills in this package amounting to $10 billion. “We ought not be borrowing and expanding the federal government unless we get rid of stuff that is not working,” he said.19
With the 110th Congress set to close in January, time was of the essence. Sykes called Coburn’s office and then flew to Washington to make a direct appeal to the senator. Coburn listened, and the activist was persuasive. On Tuesday, September 23, 2008, after Sykes had returned home, Coburn called him on the phone and left a message encouraging him to get some rest and to expect some good news in the morning.20 The next day, Sykes turned on C-SPAN and listened as Senate majority leader Harry Reid announced that the Senate passed the Till Bill with unanimous consent. “Today we can be proud that the US Senate has at long last acted to resolve unthinkable, unsolved Civil Rights–era murders like Emmett Till’s. I encourage the President to sign this bill as early as possible.”21
Following the bill’s passage, Coburn addressed his colleagues and voiced his pleasure at having lifted his objections. He then paid tribute to the man from Kansas City. “There is a gentleman in this country by the name of Alvin Sykes. If you haven’t met him, you should. He is what America is all about,” said Coburn. “If you met him, you would fall in love with him. He is [as] poor as a church mouse. He has led this group with integrity. He has been an honest broker. He has not played the first political game with anybody in Washington.” The senator continued:
I think that speaks so well about our country; that one person has truly made a difference, and that one person is Alvin Sykes. I can’t say enough about this individual. I can’t say enough about his stamina, his integrity, his forthrightness, his determination. All of the qualities that have built this country this gentleman exhibited as he worked to keep the promise to the dying mother of Emmett Till. So I come to the floor now to sing his praises, to recognize him publicly for his tremendous efforts, and all those on his board have made in making this come to fruition.22
President George W. Bush signed the Emmett Till Unsolved Crime Act into law two weeks later, on October 7. The bill would appropriate up to $13.5 million annually over a ten-year period to fund investigations into cold civil rights murders prior to 1970.23 In time, the new legislation could potentially impact countless families and others seeking the truth, something in which the Till family could take pride. However, for relatives of the Chicago teen whose name the act bears, healing had already begun. In 2007, as Congress waited on passage of the Till Bill, citizens in Tallahatchie County, Mississippi, decided it was time to act.
In 2005, fifty-three-year-old Jerome G. Little, president of the Tallahatchie County Board of Supervisors and the first black person elected to that position, formed the Emmett Till Memorial Commission with big dreams of reviving the dying economy in Sumner. The goals of the commission soon became twofold—increase racial harmony and work to secure state, federal, and private funds to renovate the courthouse where the trial took place and restore the courtroom to its 1955 appearance. The committee, with the help of architect Belinda Stewart of Eupora, Mississippi, was able to place the building on the National Register of Historic Places on March 6, 2007, which made it easier to raise funds. Stewart was hired to do the restoration on what was estimated to be a $10 million project. The building would continue to serve as a functioning courthouse but would double as a museum. The unemployment rate in Tallahatchie County was 9 percent, and hopes were that these efforts would increase tourism and bring jobs to the area.24
After its formation, commission membership first consisted of six black and three white members, but the white members never attended the meetings because they did not know they had been invited. Eighty-five-year-old Betty Pearson, one of Sumner’s few trusted white liberals, became enthusiastic once she received the invitation, and she and Little began getting the word out. Eventually, the committee totaled eighteen members, evenly split between black and white residents from the west side of the county. Pearson and Tutwiler mayor Robert Grayson were elected cochairs of the committee, which met monthly on the second floor of the courthouse. Susan Glisson, executive director of the William Winter Institute for Racial Reconciliation, served as an adviser and facilitator for the group.25
Little reached out to Glisson because, in 2004, Glisson became involved with the Philadelphia Coalition, which was a multiracial group in Neshoba County. Philadelphia, Mississippi, had been the site of the 1964 Freedom Summer murders of civil rights workers James Chaney, Andrew Goodman, and Michael Schwerner, and upon the fortieth anniversary of the slayings, those responsible for the murders remained unpunished. The coalition pushed to reopen the case, and the conviction of Edgar Ray Killen followed in 2005. In addition, the coalition helped erect historic markers and created a driving brochure of the sites related to the murders. Little saw the Philadelphia Coalition as an excellent model for his group in Tallahatchie County.26
The Till Commission was the first real effort to unite white and black citizens in the community in working together toward a common goal. With little precedent to follow, discussions were sometimes awkward and contentious. For the most part, the black members of the committee wanted to focus on establishing a museum honoring Emmett Till, while the white members were primarily interested in restoring the courthouse. Those two ideas could easily mesh into one, but Glisson advised the committee members that they would need to deal directly with the Till case before any of their other goals could be accomplished.27
In January 2007, state senator David Jordan read a resolution to the Mississippi legislature asking the state to apologize for the Emmett Till murder and called “for reconciliation in this matter,” but in July his proposal died in committee. The Till Commission decided to draft its own apology on behalf of Tallahatchie County residents and asked Susan Glisson to write it. By May 2007, a seven-paragraph resolution was ready.28
Unfortunately, the strongly worded document caused division within the group. Seventy-three-year-old Frank Mitchener, a wealthy cotton planter and perhaps the committee’s most prominent member, objected to the use of the word “apology” in the text of the document and refused to sign it. Apologizing was tantamount to admitting guilt, Mitchener reasoned. Neither he nor anyone on the commission took part in the crime, he said, then he got up from the table, walked out of the room, and went home.29
Betty Pearson immediately contacted Mitchener at his house and tried to reason with him, but he refused to change his mind. Pearson then asked him to meet with Glisson, and he agreed. Glisson paid a visit to Mitchener, and the two spent several hours talking at his home. There were no arguments; in fact, Glisson spent most of her time listening as Mitchener talked about his personal experiences. His father had treated African Americans well; no one in his family approved of the murder. The crime, as horrendous as it was, did not even occur in the community or anywhere in Tallahatchie County, for that matter. Sumner was the home of the trial only. Why should the commission members apologize for a crime they did not commit?30
“What is unfortunate is that the jury that convened was the official body that spoke for your county,” said Glisson in response. “No one has ever spoken up and said that they were wrong. It’s not fair, but that’s how it is.”
Glisson left the statement with Mitchener along with instructions to make any changes he wanted. Two weeks later, when the commission met again, Mitchener read his revised proclamation to the members. He had removed the word “apology” and inserted “regret” and “sorry” in its place. He then moved that the proclamation be adopted. The committee approved it unanimously.
An outdoor ceremony had been scheduled for Tuesday, October 2, 2007, at 10:00 A.M., and with the entire commission on board, everything went as planned. Buses of schoolchildren came in from surrounding districts, and at least 400 people attended the event. A stand erected in front of the courthouse was beautifully decorated. Till family members Wheeler Parker, Simeon Wright, their spouses, and Deborah Watts were escorted into town in squad cars. Former governor William Winter was present, and Senator David Jordan served as master of ceremonies. Tallahatchie County sheriff William Brewer and other elected officials were also in attendance. All took their seats in the shade under trees outside of the courthouse entrance.31
Commission cochairs Betty Pearson and Robert Grayson took turns reading the resolution, dated May 9, 2007. “We the citizens of Tallahatchie County believe that racial reconciliation begins with telling the truth,” the document began. It called on Mississippi and its citizens to take an honest look at its past. That would be painful yet essential in order to “nurture reconciliation and to ensure justice for all.” After recounting the details of the kidnapping, murder, and outcome of the trial, and providing a reference to the recent FBI investigation, the statement concluded:
We the citizens of Tallahatchie County recognize that the Emmett Till case was a terrible miscarriage of justice. We state candidly and with deep regret the failure to effectively pursue justice.
We wish to say to the family of Emmett Till that we are profoundly sorry for what was done in this community to your loved one.
We the citizens of Tallahatchie County acknowledge the horrific nature of this crime. Its legacy has haunted our community. We need to understand the system that encouraged these events and others like them to occur so that we can ensure that it never happens again. Working together, we have the power now to fulfill the promise of “liberty and justice for all.”32
Till family members enthusiastically addressed the crowd. “I accept your apology,” said Simeon Wright. “We want to thank you all today for what you are doing here. You are doing what you could. If you could do more, you would.” Deborah Watts said that “it’s good to be in Mississippi. The world has been holding its breath for fifty-two years and now it’s exhaling.” Wheeler Parker pointed out that “Emmett Till spoke louder in death than he would have if he had lived.” Former governor Winter and Sheriff Brewer also spoke, while soloists provided music.33
The ceremony concluded with Jerome Little unveiling a historical marker in front of the courthouse on the northwest corner of the lawn. The commission worked with the Mississippi Department of Archives and History to work out the language on the sign, the first of several planned markers to be erected at the various Emmett Till–related sites. It noted that after “a five day trial held in this courthouse, an all-white jury acquitted two white men, Roy Bryant and J. W. Milam, of the murder” of Emmett Till. “Till’s murder, coupled with the trial and acquittal of these two men, drew international attention and galvanized the Civil Rights Movement in Mississippi and the nation.”34
Newspaper stories that reported the event repeatedly referred to the commission’s statement as an apology; even some of the speakers did so. Frank Mitchener raised no objection. In fact, he was fine with such language if it was used outside of the commission’s statement. “If that’s the way they want to describe it, it’s okay with me.”35
Renovations to the Tallahatchie County courthouse in Sumner were completed in 2014. The final price tag was around $3 million a substantial savings over what was originally projected. Visitors will not only see the influence of the Till case inside and out, they can also turn around and enter the Emmett Till Interpretive Center on the north side of the town square in what was once the Wong (formerly Bing) grocery store. The purpose of the center is to provide a place where the Till story can be told and its impact understood. Sadly, Jerome Little died of cancer in December 2011 at age fifty-nine and did not live to see the fruits of his labors.
Leaving Sumner and heading south on the Emmett Till Memorial Highway, motorists will shortly pass the Emmett Till Multipurpose Complex. Continuing on, they will see a sign for an Emmett Till museum in Glendora. After visiting the structure, called the Emmett Till Historic Intrepid Center (ETHIC), housed in an old cotton gin, they can cross the railroad tracks and take a stroll through the Emmett Till National Park and Nature Trail. A brochure titled the Tallahatchie Civil Rights Driving Tour, created by the Emmett Till Memorial Commission, guides tourists to eight sites in Tallahatchie County, complete with commemorative markers, and another four in Leflore and Sunflower Counties, all of which bear a direct relationship to the Till case.36 One day visitors will be able to gaze upon a monument to Emmett Till that will be erected on the courthouse lawn in Greenwood. The memorial was approved by the Leflore County Board of Supervisors in 2005.37
Chicago came to recognize the slain youth back in 1991, as noted earlier, when a stretch of Seventy-First Street was renamed Emmett Till Road. On August 28, 2005, a Chicago overpass off of that road crossing the Dan Ryan Expressway was dedicated as the Emmett Till Memorial Bridge. In 2006, McCosh Elementary, the school Till attended in his South Side neighborhood, was renamed the Emmett Till Math and Science Academy. In March of that same year, the Chicago City Council gave city landmark status to the Roberts Temple Church of God in Christ, the site of Till’s funeral.38
If Mississippi is on the path toward reconciliation, it is not easy to ascertain the distance traveled and the progress made. Sensitivities about how Emmett Till is portrayed and who controls the narrative have been points of contention since the murder occurred. Surely there have been charges—if even in hushed tones—that society is overcompensating for the murder of the fourteen-year-old boy from Chicago. However, the plethora of memorials is indicative of the fact that Emmett Till has become a symbol. For sixty years his death has represented what America has been at its worst and how a tragedy of this nature can arouse a people to action. Even today, when people see the photos of Emmett Till’s battered face for the first time, the emotional response is as powerful as it ever was.
An unintended consequence of Emmett Till as a symbol is a continued stream of distrust interwoven within these very public attempts toward reconciliation. For example, retired black preacher G. A. Johnson stood up in public meetings and denounced the work of the Emmett Till Memorial Commission, calling its efforts to bring the courthouse back to its 1955 appearance “blood money.” As Johnson saw it, “They slaughtered this boy and now they want to come back and raise money off the death of that child—God forbid.” Robert Grayson found that, at his church in Tutwiler, people took a different stand yet still represented an obstacle for the goals of the commission. “A lot of people don’t say anything, but when I mention it, you can look at their expressions and know they’re thinking, ‘I don’t know why you have to go back and dig up the past.’” Of the 400 or so spectators at the Sumner ceremony in October 2007, few of them were local whites.39
More serious than indifference or even a lack of trust is when hostility and hatred rear their ugly heads. In June 2006, vandals painted the letters “KKK” on the Emmett Till Memorial Highway sign in Greenwood. The sign at the river site where Till’s body was discovered was stolen in October 2008. Jerome Little, whose efforts created the signs in the first place, was furious. “We’re not going to tolerate them tearing down anything that’s marking Emmett Till’s murder,” he told the press. “I want to send a message: Every time they take it down, we’re going to put it back up.”40 That he did, but the replacement sign fared no better. In March 2013, it was found riddled with bullet holes. Eighteen months later it remained unchanged.41
While most civil rights memorials have stood unmolested, these defaced signs simultaneously become symbols of reconciliation and division that send a powerful yet tragic message. Although it has become cliché to note that Mississippi has come a long way toward racial reconciliation but still has a long way to go, these signs are dramatic confirmation of that fact.
Emmett Till as a symbol, however, goes beyond signs, commemorations, and legislation. He has been called a martyr and the catalyst that started the civil rights movement. In the last thirty years, he has certainly become both in retrospect, but those descriptions need to be qualified. Unlike Martin Luther King Jr., who predicted on more than one occasion that his work would cut his life short, Emmett Till was never a willing martyr and was certainly indifferent to the issues that consumed countless folks before or after him. He was not Rosa Parks, who took a stand and knew there would be consequences. Simply put, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and paid a heavy price for that. Yet his innocence and naïveté during a harmless flirtation meant that every African American was vulnerable, and that is why his death resonated with so many. It resonated immediately with fearful black mothers all over the North who refused to send their sons down to the South to visit relatives ever again. To say that the murder of Emmett Till started the civil rights movement is to ignore the work of politicians, ministers, grassroots activists, and organizations as early as the 1930s and is an oversimplification.42 From those early activists to black soldiers who fought for other people’s freedom overseas during World War II only to be denied it for themselves when they returned home, all the way to the US Supreme Court’s decision in Brown v. Board of Education, a movement was brewing. Yet the death of Emmett Till and the injustice that followed galvanized a people like few events have. It got them moving in the direction they were already headed but moved them faster and with greater resolve. The rest is history.