Hellhound on His Trail: The Stalking of Martin Luther King, Jr. And the International Hunt for His A

Galt couldn't have asked for a better vantage point than Bessie Brewer's rooming house. From the privacy of 5B, Galt could monitor the goings-on at the Lorraine--and from the shared bathroom a mere thirteen paces away, he could raise his rifle with little fear of detection and fire directly at, and slightly down upon, his target.

Then he realized he was missing something, a lookout's most important tool. The Lorraine was just far enough away that he couldn't make out faces or other details with the naked eye. Galt could use the Redfield scope on his Remington, but he didn't want to bring his rifle up yet--lugging the weapon in its cumbersome box might draw too much attention, especially in broad daylight. In any case, a rifle scope was impractical for long-term surveillance work. For all Galt knew, he could be stuck here for days, possibly a whole week, snooping on the SCLC entourage. He would have to improve on his equipment.

THROUGHOUT THE AFTERNOON, King held meetings to talk about what to do with the Invaders. Two members of his staff--Hosea Williams and James Bevel--had been negotiating with the Invaders for days, trying to extract a promise that they would help with the march and not resort to violence. King wanted the Invaders to be included in the planning and to serve as marshals along the march route. But the Invaders were unwilling to make any promises unless King's SCLC gave them a significant sum of cash--by some accounts, they demanded ten thousand dollars.³²⁵ Hosea Williams refused to commit any money, but he did provide the Invaders with a room at the Lorraine while suggesting to one Invader leader, Charles Cabbage, that he come on board for the week as hired SCLC staff.

King grew angry when he learned of these developments. 'Hosea,' he fumed, 'no one will be on our payroll³²⁶ who accepts violence as a means of social change.' When he found out that the Invaders were trying to extort money from the SCLC, King became even more furious, saying, 'I don't negotiate with brothers.'³²⁷

Cabbage and his Invaders were told they were no longer welcome at the Lorraine, that their room had been promised to someone else. Cabbage stormed out³²⁸ of the Lorraine late that afternoon, toting a small arsenal of rifles and guns wrapped in a blanket under his arm.

AROUND 4:00 P.M., Galt trundled down the narrow staircase of Bessie Brewer's rooming house and got in his car. He drove the short distance to the York Arms Company, a sporting goods store located several blocks north at 162 Main, close by a movie theater that was showing The Graduate. York Arms, which carried rifles and shotguns among other merchandise, was one of the stores that had been looted the previous week when King's march turned ugly. This afternoon, as Galt walked in the front door, a clutch of striking garbage workers--many carrying placards that said, I AM A MAN--strolled down Main Street, not far from the York Arms storefront.

'Got any binoculars?'³²⁹ Galt asked the first salesman he met, Ralph Carpenter. 'I'd be interested in some infrared ones if you got any--for night vision.'

Carpenter looked at the new customer and would later describe him as having an 'average face, average hands, average neck--he was a neat, average-looking fellow and there was nothing outstanding about him.' The man wore a dark, smooth-finish suit, a wide-collared white shirt, and a tie whose knot was slightly off center.

Carpenter told the customer he didn't carry any infrared binoculars, then showed the customer several brands of regular, high-end binoculars that cost upwards of $100. Galt balked at the prices. Then Carpenter remembered that he had several cheaper pairs in the show window. They were 7x35 Banners, manufactured by Bushnell, with fully coated optics. 'These only cost $39.95,' Carpenter said brightly as he retrieved a pair from the window. 'They're imports, from Japan.'

Galt seemed to like the price and put the binoculars up to his eyes. He said they were acceptable.

Carpenter tallied the tax and said the total would be $41.55.

Galt retrieved a roll of neatly folded bills from his right front pants pocket, from which he peeled off two twenties and a one, and then found fifty-five cents in another pocket. The salesclerk demonstrated how to focus and adjust the eyepieces on the Bushnells and then began to box up the merchandise, noting that the binoculars also came with a black leather case and accompanying straps. Carpenter slipped the box into a gray-blue paper sack--marked 'York Arms Company.' As Galt aimed for the door, Carpenter said, 'Hurry back.'

Galt said something in reply, but Carpenter couldn't quite catch what he said--he spoke in a soft mumble.

AT FIRE STATION No. 2, across Mulberry Street from the Lorraine, the black police officers Ed Redditt and Willie Richmond were back at their surveillance post,³³⁰ keeping a close eye on the comings and goings at the motel. Holed up in the locker room, they took turns with the binoculars, peering through the slits in the newspapers that were still taped to a rear window. Off in the background, they could hear the murmur of a television in the station's lounge and occasionally the friendly commotion of Ping-Pong matches.

There was a pay telephone in the firehouse, and that afternoon, to everyone's surprise, the phone rang. One of the firemen picked up the receiver to hear a woman on the line. She didn't say her name, but her voice had a distinct edge. 'We know Detective Redditt is in there, spying on King. You tell him he is doing the black people wrong. Now we're going to do him wrong.' Then the caller hung up.

Ed Redditt's superiors at police headquarters, interpreting the call as a possible death threat, decided it best to remove him from the situation; his cover had been blown, at the very least. Redditt wanted to stay, but headquarters was adamant. His boss took him off the case, assigned him an armed police guard, and advised him to go into hiding with his family for a few days.

Willie Richmond was told to remain in the firehouse and stay on the job for the rest of the afternoon. Since the anonymous caller hadn't mentioned him, Richmond's department superiors felt he was safe, his usefulness uncompromised.

He raised the field glasses to his face and turned his gaze back on the Lorraine.

KING EMERGED FROM 306 and walked down the balcony toward the stairs. After their late lunch together, Abernathy had fallen asleep, and King had made a few calls, but he was bored now and in search of company. He was anxious to hear from Andy Young and learn how the day's courtroom session was faring. He wandered down to Georgia Davis's room, 201, where he found his brother, AD, and Lucretia Ward, as well as Senator Davis. They all sat around joking,³³¹ gossiping, mimicking different preachers. King lay across the bed, his eyes closed, half following the dance of conversation.

After a while, he and AD decided to call their mother³³² in Atlanta. Once Mama King answered, they played a little prank, each pretending to be the other, thoroughly confusing her. King was pleased to hear the delight in her voice when she realized that her two boys were together in Memphis. They spoke for nearly an hour. Near the end Daddy King got on the line as well.

Through the afternoon, Georgia thought King seemed distracted and tired but happy. She saw a look of resignation on his face, a look of acceptance, that she'd seen many times the past year. 'He really sensed³³³ his time was not long,' she said. 'He felt he'd fulfilled his mission on earth. He said on many occasions that he would not live to be an elderly person. He'd say, you know, there are a lot of kooks out there. Sometimes I thought that he almost welcomed it.'

That night, King and a large entourage were supposed to go to the home of the local minister Billy Kyles for dinner. The word was that Kyles's wife, Gwen, was making a soul food feast. 'Senator,' King now said, 'you like soul food?'³³⁴ Georgia said she did, and he said she should come to dinner as his guest.

Finally, about five o'clock, Andy Young, fresh from court, arrived at the Lorraine, with the SCLC lawyer Chauncey Eskridge soon following on his heels. King was in a teasing mood, and he assaulted Young with a mock tirade: Where you been all day?³³⁵ How come you never call? Why do you keep your leader so ill informed! Abernathy, aroused from his nap, came down and joined in. King hurled mock invectives at Young, then he hurled a pillow, and then Young hurled it back. Soon they were in a full-scale pillow fight³³⁶ and wrestling match--the King brothers, Abernathy, and Young--the men all yelling, snorting, horselaughing like a scrum of kids.

Once things settled down, Young and Eskridge gave their report from the U.S. District Court. Attorney Lucius Burch had been masterful. After listening to nearly eight hours of heated testimony on both sides, Judge Bailey Brown had agreed to modify the federal injunction to accommodate a tightly controlled demonstration. King and