Issue link: https://www.e-digitaleditions.com/i/517095
14 centralight spring '15 By Elizabeth Ross As the nation came together to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Civil Rights March, I was compelled to write this article in honor of my late father, Robert Gardner, my mom, Mary Gardner, and the other two property owners whose land the marchers rested on during their journey from Selma to Montgomery. The events and instances I shared are based on my personal experience and stories shared with me by my parents. I remember the "white" and "colored" signs. When my mother took us shopping in Montgomery, I vividly remember passing the "white" food counter on the main floor of H.L. Green's Department Store to go downstairs to get a sandwich at the "colored" food counter for my brother. As a young teenager, that did not seem right or fair to me. I could not and did not eat food from the "colored" food counter. History unfolding I remember like it was yesterday, my mother along with her sister and friends studying on our front porch to take "the test" in order to exercise their right to vote. They were all educated and teachers in the county. I watched the massacre of March 7, 1965, broadcast on television as "Bloody Sunday." For a 13-year-old, it was a scary scene. After the "Turnaround Tuesday" event, the organizers had to regroup and make plans for another attempt. They held meetings at The A.G. Gaston Motel in Birmingham, Alabama. A.G. Gaston was one of many sponsors of the movement, and he was my father's brother-in-law. After securing protection for the marchers, organizers lined up campsites for the marchers to stay at night. Uncle A.G. told the men when they entered Lowndes County to ask for directions to Robert Gardner's CMU's first lady shares firsthand account of Civil Rights March Elizabeth Ross was a young teen in Alabama 50 years ago as marchers made their way from Selma to Montgomery seeking the right to vote. Her family's farm was along the final leg of the route, and Ross' parents, Robert and Mary Gardner, allowed marchers to camp on their property the last night of the journey. Their story was included in a Washington Post article earlier this year. As the 50th anniversary of the Civil Rights March was celebrated in March, Ross wrote an essay reflecting on the role she and her family played in this historic event. property along Highway 80 in hopes the marchers could camp there on the last leg of the march before reaching St. Jude in Montgomery. When the organizers got to Lowndes County, they stopped at the Canaan Hill Primitive Baptist Church where the members were having a meeting and asked for directions to our home. The following Monday, the men came to the house and told my father who they were and that they wanted permission for the marchers to camp on our property. My father told the men to let him think about it and to come back. Daddy and Mama talked about it and decided that they would let the marchers camp. The organizers told my parents that we would be protected by the troops. When the news spread that the marchers were camping on the property, three white men came to the house one night and told my daddy they would give him any amount of money to change his mind and not let the marchers camp. Standing his ground Daddy told the men the marchers were going to camp, and no amount of money would change his mind. He also told the men no one could tell him what and what not to allow on his property. The men left. A few days before the march, the troops began securing my daddy's property by walking the 140-plus acres. They turned over rocks, cow droppings and dirt mounds looking for anything that posed a threat. On Tuesday, March 23, when I left home for school, my parents told me that the marchers would be camping on the property that night and would probably be there when I returned. Winston Pringle, our neighbor, would meet me at the bus stop to identify me and bring me home. thanks and honor: Reflections on the Civil Rights Movement