Excerpts from Bob Williams’s “Mike”: Martin Luther King Jr. and I from Montgomery to Atlanta
A profile in courage: making integration real
MARTIN LUTHER KING JR ARRESTED DURING THE MONTGOMERY BUS BOYCOTT
    We entered a Negro-owned parking lot, the car pool, and picked up three passengers. On our way out, we were checked by a policeman who was standing at
the entrance. He checked for driver’s license and the number of persons in the car. He also checked the tag number. Finishing his check, the policeman walked
across the street and said to two other policemen seated on motorcycles: “That’s the King nigger in the car.” As soon as we could get into the flow of traffic, we
left, and were immediately followed by the two policemen on motorcycles, Under ordinary circumstances, I would have been driving the car, but for some
unknown reason, “Mike” was driving.
    We noticed that we were being followed, and to make sure, made several turns. Each time a turn was made, the police turned also. We arrived at Grove
Street, just across the street from Regal Cafe, to let the three passengers out. Perhaps, the officers thought that we would all stop there, and immediately
turned on his red light. One dismounted and came to the car and said: “Lemme see your drive’rs license.” Then he said, “King, you are under arrest.” “Mike”
asked: “What are the charges?” The officer replied, “Speeding, driving twenty five miles per hour in a twenty-mile zone.”
    Of course, we were speechless, but not shocked. We had seen this type of justice before. We were under the impression that we would be given a ticket for his
so-called violation, but according to plans, “Mike” would have to go to jail. We looked at each other. I was infuriated at this act, but held my peace. I knew that
they wanted an excuse to kill all of us. “Mike” got out of the car, and I got out and walked around the car to the driver’s side. We talked for several minutes,
planning our course of action, and the things that I would have to do while he was in jail. To expedite time, I left before the wagon came for him, in order
that I might make the necessary contact, and in order that Mrs. Hunter might make several calls.
THE BOMBING OF THE KING HOME IN MONTGOMERY
    Soon the word was out that the house had been bombed. Within a few minutes, people from all over the city were flocking to the home of their leader.
Many were armed, openly defying the policemen who sought to keep them back. The situation was so tense until one reporter gave Dr. King credit for saving
his life. For when Dr. King arrived, he surveyed the situation, and found everyone well. The city commissioners sensed the tenseness of the situation, asked him
to prevail with the people for calmness. He stood “ten feet tall” between oppressors, and proclaimed to the angry crowd: “Listen to me. We are all fine. My wife
and baby were not injured. Don’t go home and get your guns. We must remain nonviolent, in spite of what our enemies do to us. We must remember that he who
lives by the sword will die by the sword.”
    This was a mighty appeal. Slowly the crowd moved away, though grumbling to themselves. But their leader had spoken and they had faith in him. He
was a living example of all that is Christian. As they departed, some were heard to sing.
    Dr. King was now more than the spokesman and philosopher; he was a symbol. A symbol of the Montgomery bus boycott. It became necessary for him
to speak at each mass meeting in order that the people might be satisfied. One lady was heard to say that when Dr. King spoke she felt that “God Himself
was near,” and another testified that when she heard King’s voice she could hear the rustle of angels, that she could see dimly hovering over him.
    The freshness and effectiveness of the philosophy of nonviolence struck a resounding chord with symphonic dimensions, and men all over the world
who were followers of Jesus Christ and Gandhi joined in this spiritual experience.
    Many of the officers of the church lingered after the mob had gone to make certain that the Kings were comfortably situated. Among them was Dr. H.
Council Trenholm, as many of his faculty members, disregarded the fact that they might be fired for playing an active part in the movement. He, as many others,
offered the facilities of his home during the time that the King’s home would be under repair. Here, they would have twenty-four hours protection. Joe Brooks,
the Smiley brothers, and others, offered their homes.
ENCOUNTER AT THE RAILROAD STATION
    “Mike” had been invited to Nashville to accept an award, and to deliver an address, so he decided that he would ride the train, since the Supreme Court had
struck down the Interstate Passenger aspect of the segregation law.
    Strangely enough, when we went down to purchase the ticket and to make reservation on the Humming Bird, no one even acted as though we there was a
care on this matter. We entered the so called “white waiting room,” went to the ticket counter and transacted our business and departed unmolested. But this was
not the end. Apparently the fact that we would return to get the five o’clock train was made known. As “Mike,” Coretta, and I attempted to enter the once “white
waiting room,” a burly officer appeared from somewhere and put his arm across the door. “The nigger waiting room is at the other end,” he said. At this point,
“Mike” stepped forward and took up the conversation, informing the officer that we had a right to enter from any end, since the Supreme Court had ruled out
separatism, with respect to interstate passengers. “I don’t give a damn about the new ruling, you are not going in this door,” the officer said, drawing his pistol to
make his statement emphatic.
    We stood there trying to impress the fact upon this man that we were within our rights. But the enraged officer vowed that he would kill the three of us before
he would allow us to enter into the “white waiting room.”
    People of both races had gathered to see and hear what was being said and done. We were too incensed to be afraid. “Mike” looked at his watch, the
departing time for the train was near, and he said: “Officer, my watch shows that it is nearly time for the train to depart, I see it out there on the tracks. Now, are
you going to let  us go through here or will you make us miss the train?” “Mike” said this, as he looked the officer in the face. The burden of proof was now in the
officer’s lap. What should he do? His head was dropped, and he pawed, nervously, on the floor. Embarrassed? Yes, but seeking an honorable way out. Finally, he
said: “Well, I’m gonna take you all through here this time, but if I ever catch you down here again trying to use this white waiting room, I’ll blow your brains out.”
In this very cool manner, “Mike” said: “I want you to know that we really appreciate your escorting us through here. It is very nice of you to do this. We want to
thank you again.”
    There were those standing by smiling at our victory, and there were those who looked at us with disdain feeling that we had invaded the sacred rights of
whites. But there was no arrogance on our part. The fact is, there was pity in our hearts for those who were making a desperate effort to maintain a dead order.
SUBSTITUTE DRIVER
    I drove for “Mike: every day when there were places to go. We were able to arrange our schedules so that there was seldom a conflict. Even then, I would
often go and leave him then return for him at a later hour. Another thing that was to my advantage, I had two students, Frank Dean and Elmore Lewis, who were
able to carry on my classes. In fact, they both could teach the class in Integrated Arts better than I.
    One day it was necessary for me to be on campus, so I was able to arrange for a student to drive until I was free. I must admit that I had never seen this
student drive, but he assured me that he was an excellent driver. I drove to the music building where the student was waiting, and he and “Mike” were on their
way.
    It was not too long after they left when I looked up and there was “Mike” standing in my studio. “You finished early,” I said to him. He replied: “I finished some
letters, but now I have some other engagements to meet. Have you completed your work?” “Yes,” I answered. “Perhaps you can now go with me,” he said.
    As we started to the car, my substitute driver started with us. “Mike” looked at him and said: “Young man, you don’t have to go with me now. Thanks very
much for the time you spent with me.”
    We got in the car, and I drove off down the street. “Bob, where on earth did you find that driver?” “He is in one of my classes,” I responded. “My goodness,”
he said. “ I am more afraid of that young man's driving than I am of all the WCCs and KKKs in Montgomery. Why we had forty potential wrecks between the music
building and my house.
JEALOUSY ABOUT WILLIAMS’ RELATIONSHIP WITH THE KING FAMILY
    Some people thought very little of my friendship with “Mike” when he first came to Dexter Avenue Baptist Church as its pastor, but as he grew in stature,
little by little, an eye of jealousy showed itself.
    There was, seemingly, little regard of the fact that I was also risking my life daily, doing all that was within my power to protect him from the evil forces
which sought to take his life. I was so dedicated until I am quite sure that I would have given my own life to save his. It was a constant task to remind him that he
was no longer a local, but a national and world figure, and that he must adjust to this fact, knowing full well that he was a target for assassination.
    There were those of my own race, and some members of his church, who questioned my motive for joining Dexter. Some said that I “was joining Dr. King
and not Dexter.” Some speculated that there was something abnormal about one of us. Others speculated that I was in love with Coretta, and using all of
these aspects as a shield.
    Surely these things hurt, for they cut me to the quick, but I knew that man always has to confront many and varied kinds of gossip in this world. At times I
would mention some of these things to “Mike,” but more than often I would not even dignify the gossip by mentioning them to him. The one thing that gave me
satisfaction was that I knew that “Mike” had unlimited faith and confidence in me.
    Bob Williams, a friend of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. from their days at Morehouse College and Ebenezer Baptist Church
in Atlanta, was one of King’s primary bodyguards during the Montgomery Bus Boycott. Williams oftentimes drove King to
meetings in Montgomery and elsewhere and stayed at the King home continuously after it was bombed during the boycott.
   Williams was eventually forced out of his teaching position at Alabama State University — after King moved to Atlanta
— because of his work with the Montgomery Improvement Association and took a teaching position at Grambling State
University.
   Williams, the grandfather of Madison’s Annetta Wright, wrote an unpublished book of his association with King called
“Mike: Martin Luther King Jr. and I from Montgomery to Atlanta.” Wright was kind to give The Capital City Hues permission to
publish excerpts from the unpublished manuscript. — Ed.