Less than three weeks after the Washington March, on September 15, 1963, members of the Ku Klux Klan bombed the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama killing four young black girls who were participating in church choir activities. Their names were Addie Mae Collins, Denise McNair, Carole Robertson, and Cynthia Wesley, all 14 years old, except Denise McNair who was 11. It was the 21st bombing of blacks in that city over the previous eight years, none of which was ever solved. (Anderson, p. 72.) The bombing played a role in removing the reticence of the Kennedy administration to actively support the Civil Rights Movement, and President Kennedy gave a public speech backing the Movement’s goals. (Id.) Months later, at the urging of President Johnson, the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was passed.
A witness identified Robert Chambliss, a member of the Ku Klux Klan, as the man who placed the bomb under the steps of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church. He was arrested and charged with murder and possessing a box of 122 sticks of dynamite without a permit. On the 8th of October, 1963, Chambliss was found not guilty of murder and received a $100 fine and a six-month jail sentence for having the dynamite.
In 1977, the Alabama attorney general re-opened the state investigation regarding the bombing. This time Chambliss was tried and found guilty of murder. He was given a life sentence; he died in prison. In 2000, the FBI determined the identity of Chambliss’ conspirators. One of them was dead, but the other two were arrested. One of them was tried and convicted.
“Birmingham Sunday,” written and sung by Richard Farina (1964), decries the tragedy. (https://youtu.be/38eePIaEcFg)
Come round by my side and I’ll sing you a song.
I’ll sing it so softly, it’ll do no one wrong.
On Birmingham Sunday the blood ran like wine,
And the choirs kept singing of Freedom.That cold autumn morning no eyes saw the sun,
And Addie Mae Collins, her number was one.
At an old Baptist church there was no need to run.
And the choirs kept singing of Freedom,The clouds they were grey and the autumn winds blew,
And Denise McNair brought the number to two.
The falcon of death was a creature they knew,
And the choirs kept singing of Freedom,The church it was crowded, but no one could see
That Cynthia Wesley’s dark number was three.
Her prayers and her feelings would shame you and me.
And the choirs kept singing of Freedom.Young Carol Robertson entered the door
And the number her killers had given was four.
She asked for a blessing but asked for no more,
And the choirs kept singing of Freedom.On Birmingham Sunday a noise shook the ground.
And people all over the earth turned around.
For no one recalled a more cowardly sound.
And the choirs kept singing of Freedom.The men in the forest they once asked of me,
How many black berries grew in the Blue Sea.
And I asked them right with a tear in my eye.
How many dark ships in the forest?The Sunday has come and the Sunday has gone.
And I can’t do much more than to sing you a song.
I’ll sing it so softly, it’ll do no one wrong.
And the choirs keep singing of Freedom.
“A Church is Burning,” written by Paul Simon, performed by Simon & Garfunkel (https://youtu.be/CyDJFMojIoA),while not specifically about the Birmingham church bombing, is certainly an appropriate commentary on the mentality of those who do such things.
A church is burning, the flames rise higher
Like hands that are praying, a glow in the sky
Like hands that are praying, the fire is saying
You can burn down my churches but I shall be freeThree hooded men through the back roads did creep
Torches in their hands while the village lies asleep
Down to the church where just hours before
Voices were singing and hands were beating
And saying, “I won’t be a slave any more”And a church is burning, the flames rise higher
Like hands that are praying, a glow in the sky
Like hands that are praying, the fire is saying
You can burn down my churches but I shall be freeThree hooded men, their hands lit the spark
Then they faded in the night and they vanished in the dark
And in the cool light of morning there’s nothing that remains
But the ashes of the Bible and a can of keroseneAnd a church is burning, the flames rise higher
Like hands that are praying, a glow in the sky
Like hands that are praying, the fire is saying
You can burn down my churches but I shall be freeChurch is more than just timber and stone
And freedom is a dark road when you’re walking it alone
But the future is now and it’s time to take a stand
So the lost bells of freedom can ring out in my landAnd a church is burning, the flames rise higher
Like hands that are praying, a glow in the sky
Like hands that are praying, the fire is saying
You can burn down my churches but I shall be free