“So maybe it’s time for another change of tactics.”

A young black woman came into the café and approached their table. “The Reverend Dr. King is free to see you now, Mr. Jakes.”

George and Verena left their lunches half-eaten. As with the president, you did not ask Dr. King to wait while you finished what you were doing.

They returned to the Gaston and went upstairs to King’s suite. As always, he was dressed in a dark business suit: the heat seemed to make little difference to him. George was struck again by how small he was, and how handsome. This time King was less wary, more welcoming. “Sit down, please,” he said, waving to a couch. His voice was mild even when his words were barbed: “What has the attorney general got to tell me that he can’t say over the phone?”

“He wants you to consider delaying your campaign here in Alabama.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised.”

“He supports what you’re trying to achieve, but he feels the protest may be ill timed.”

“Tell me why.”

“Bull Connor has just lost the election for mayor to Albert Boutwell. There’s a new city government. Boutwell is a reformer.”

“Some people feel Boutwell is just a more dignified version of Bull Connor.”

“Reverend, that may be so; but Bobby would like you to give Boutwell the chance to prove himself—one way or the other.”

“I see. So that message is: Wait.”

“Yes, sir.”

King looked at Verena, as if inviting her to comment, but she said nothing.

After a moment King said: “Last September, Birmingham businessmen promised to remove humiliating WHITES ONLY signs from their stores and, in return, Fred Shuttlesworth agreed to a moratorium on demonstrations. We kept our promise, but the businessmen broke theirs. As has happened so many times, our hopes were blasted.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said George. “But—”

King ignored the interruption. “Nonviolent direct action seeks to create so much tension, and sense of crisis, that a community is forced to confront the issue and open the door to sincere negotiation. You ask me to give Boutwell time to show his true colors. Boutwell may be less of a brute than Connor, but he is a segregationist, dedicated to keeping the status quo. He needs to be prodded to act.”

This was so reasonable that George could not even pretend to disagree, though the likelihood of his changing King’s mind seemed to be fading rapidly.

“We have never made a gain, in civil rights, without pressure,” King went on. “Frankly, George, I have yet to engage in a campaign that was ‘well timed’ in the eyes of men such as Bobby Kennedy. For years now I have heard the word ‘Wait.’ It rings in my ears with piercing familiarity. This ‘Wait’ always means ‘Never.’ We have waited three hundred and forty years for our rights. African nations are moving with jetlike speed toward independence, but we still creep at horse-and-buggy pace toward gaining a cup of coffee at a lunch counter.”