On the forty-third anniversary of the murder of Dr. King I am again reminded of a great act of kindness and bravery that I’d like to acknowledge.
I was stationed at Ft. Dix, NJ the day Martin Luther King was killed. Two days later during the height of the riots I went on leave and took a bus from NJ through Baltimore, which was on fire, to Washington, DC. I was going to spend a few days with my uncle Jerry and his wife Carol in Silver Springs and then fly to St. Paul before going to Atlanta GA for my duty as a computer operator.
Going through DC you could smell the smoke from the buildings on fire. The bus dropped me at the terminal downtown DC at about 3:30 or so. There was no way to get to Silver Springs by public transportation and a curfew was going to start soon. I was in trouble. There I was, in uniform, skin headed and in the middle of a city on fire. The only other soldiers there had guns and were guarding public buildings and intersections.
Before I was drafted I worked for Control Data as a computer technician at the Navy Research Lab and the VA Hospital on north Capitol Ave. The VA was using a CDC 3200 for EKG research. They were looking for a way to predict cardiac diagnosis based on the mathematical syne waves of the EKG. One of the programmers I got to know was a black mathematician named Charlie Batchelor. Charlie and I went to lunch one day and we’re standing in line at the cafeteria and he suddenly tells me to feel his pulse. Well, as a CDC engineer we wore white coats at the VA so I felt like a doctor anyway. His pulse would pause and skip a whole beat. Not all the time but enough that he was a favorite test subject. Somewhere deep in the VA’s vault is my EKG when I was 23 or 24 as Charlie talked my into giving a sample.
So there I am outside the bus terminal at a pay phone looking up the VA Hospital main phone number. I asked for Charlie and for some reason he was still at work. I knew he lived in Silver Springs and it wouldn’t be out of his way to Jerry’s house if there wasn’t a riot going on. It was not a good place or time to be a white guy.
For some reason Charlie came to my aid. He drove down side streets as we passed the Howard University area because the fires were on N Capital. I was crouched down in the passenger side trying not to be noticed. It was really scary.
When we got to my uncle’s house I thanked Charlie, closed the car door and never saw him again.
Charlie, I’d love to know what made you, two days after the terrible news of King’s assassination, come to the aid of a young white kid you had no obligation to help?
I think I know the answer. You are a great human being. Thank you again for being there when I needed a friend.
For background on early EKG research and a mention of Charlie’s contribution see: http://bit.ly/dptML2
Random Thoughts Captured 
John,
I remember that night as if it was last night. I was in Memphis, at CBU as a CE student. We, my friends and I, had marched a day or so before with Dr King to show our support of the garbage workers strike. This was about a lot more than the garbage workers. Dr King had been in town for a few days already, speaking at the local Baptist churches.
To this day, if I see video of the march, I remember exactly where I was in the demonstration. When we heard of what had happened, it was devistating. But, I have to say, even though we were under cerfew, we were all up and outside, listening to the city speak. That night, Memphis was the quietist city in America.
John, thanks for sharing your story.
Wally