March 10, 1959; 11:00 am; Washington, DCToday was the day.
The funeral of Gerald Marshal.
It was a sorrowful day, especially for the family of the deceased. The funeral was being paid in full by the NNRC, something James Brown Jr. personally suggested. He still partially blamed himself for what happened, but considerably less since his conversation with Marshal’s mother. The baggage he carried from the death of his father didn’t do too much to help him try to ignore what the funeral stood for- one of his own dying on his watch, who was to be put to rest on this day.
A limited media presence had been allowed, so there were a few news crews from across the country here, but not much. Plus, the most they could do was document what people said. However, James himself began to arrive with his wife, Cora, and his son, Darryl. Dawn, James’ daughter, would not be in attendance, as she was considered to young to attend. As such, she has been dropped off at the residence of Cora’s aunt, who conveniently lived in the area. James and his family began to make their way to the entrance, when the news crews began to ask questions- asking people questions before the service was technically fair game. However, James largely ignored them, as he and his family made it to the entrance and entered, the sound of “Amazing Grace” playing on the organ filled theirs ears. James and his family then made their way down the aisle. Cora and Darryl took their seat, but James continued down the aisle, heading towards what lay at the end in front of the stage- the casket carrying the body of Gerald Marshal. Once he reached it, he knelt in front, bowed his head, and began to recite a prayer. One of the camera crews in the building caught on to this, and swiftly took a photo. Once James finished, he stood back up, he went to where the rest of his family were and sat with them as the service began. A priest went up to a podium on the stage and spoke.
“Good morning, folks, and thank you all for coming today for what will be not a day of mourning, but a day of celebration. The celebration of the life of the recently departed Gerald Marshal. His memory will forever be a blessing to his family and friends, and I do pray that his memory will bring smiles before it brings tears. If you don’t mind, I would like to start us off with a prayer. God, we thank you for the time Mr. Marshal was able to spend with us here on this earth, and we thank you for the memories he created with this family and friends. We thank you that you have welcomed his soul with open arms past the gates of heaven, and we thank you for allowing us to celebrate that today. We thank you, Father, for always being there for us when we need it, and I pray that Mr. Marshal’s family is aware of that during this trying time, because they will need to come to You at times. And, Father, I pray...that what he fought and died for will come to pass and that his untimely passing will not be in vain. Father, I pray this in Your name, amen.”
The rest of the church said amen along with him, and the service went underway.
...
A while later, it had been time for James to speak. “Now, I understand it is Mr. Brown Jr.’s turn to speak. May he please come to the stage?”
With that, James stood, and the rest of the crowd gave a standing ovation, which he did not expect. He looked as they clapped, rather mesmerized that they were clapping for him. He returned his focus to the stage, and walked up. As he went to the podium, the priest went out of his way, and James stood at the podium. He then began to speak
“Hello everyone, and thank you. Now, today was, honestly...a day I was not looking forward to. Today is the day I say goodbye to the man that died on my watch in New Orleans. And, you know, I think to myself since that day ‘why did he have to die’? Was it because he dared to use his voice? Was it because it was simply meant to happen? It is these questions and more that have racked my brain since that day. But now, standing before you, I know that it wouldn’t have mattered, he would’ve still showed up to the march even if he knew he wouldn’t return home alive. He would’ve continued to fight for change, because that’s what he wanted. He wanted to see an America where he’s not turned away from a diner because he’s black, where he isn’t turned away from a movie theater because he’s black, where his future children wouldn’t have to not go to school with their white friends because they were black. He was tired of living in that America, so he wanted to transition to a new America. He wanted that to end because he grew up going through that. People often try to discredit me for my activism because I didn’t grow up in a Jim Crow state. And they’re right, I didn’t, because my mother loved me too much to let me go through that. She and my father were already talking about moving up north before my father died. And I stayed up north because I loved my children too much to let them experience Jim Crow and its racist ways. Now, where Gerald and my mother differed is this: my mother went away from it, and he aimed to change it. He loved his future children and the current and future children of all blacks to let them experience it. I ask you, the Americans listening in this church and outside of it: would you want yourself, your children, to experience what Gerald experienced growing up? What countless African Americans grew up experiencing? If the answer is no, make sure of it. Help to change the world the way Gerald sought to. Help to bring the change needed for America to truly move forward. Do your part in this change, and in the future, when Jim Crow is dead, all of the Black children free to attend their nearby school, free to eat at their nearby diner, free to watch a movie at the nearby movie theater, free to sit where they want to on the bus like [not- Rosa Parks] sought to regardless of race will thank you. Please, do your part, be the change you wish to see in the world, as Gandhi put it. Bring the change that Gerald Marshal gave his life to bring to America so that his death won’t be in vain. So that the deaths of far too many others don’t go in vain. Do this, and the future America will thank you.”
As James finished, the crowd once again clapped for him as he went off the stage and returned to his seat.
...
A while later, when the service had concluded, the silver casket carrying Gerald Marshal’s body had been picked up by the six pallbearers, who carried the casket down the aisle, out the door, and into a hearse parked outside. As they moved down the aisle, the crowd gradually began to follow. Eventually, the casket was loaded into the hearse, and the crowd, including Brown and his family, most now outside, began to hop into their cars, preparing to follow the hearse. The funeral convoy was accompanied by 5 cop cars, who were acting as escort to where Gerald Marshal would be laid to rest- a plot of land owned by the Marshal family on the outskirts of Alexandria, Virginia. The hearse began to go in its way, and the others followed.
The convoy went through downtown Washington DC, passing the Capital Building, the National Mall, and the White House. As they passed, James looked. He wondered if President Davis, whom he’d met at the beginning of the year, was even paying attention. Nevertheless, they convoy continued on past the Lincoln Memorial and over the Potomac.
Eventually, the convoy reached its destination, and Marshal’s casket was once again taken out of the hearse, and towards his burial plot. Already buried here were Gerald’s maternal grandparents, and Gerald’s uncle. The other attendees exited their cars and followed. When his casket was once again lowered to the platform that would lower him into the ground, the priest from the service recited one last prayer before Gerald’s casket would finally lower into the ground, being laid to rest. The burdens, strifes, and insecurities of the soul that inhabited the body were finally relieved, after 27 years. Gerald Marshal could finally rest. The casket reached the bottom, and a group of 4 people began to shovel dirt on top. James watched, tears in his eyes. He took a deep breath, reminding himself “today is not a day of mourning but a day of celebration.”