PROTEST: They Are Killing Me

The silver-haired old man, tall but slightly stoop-shouldered, rocked back and forth in an ancient chair at the center of the stage. His desk near by was piled high with printer's galleys and papers. He was finishing a dreamlike trip through his childhood, the final moment in a two-hour monologue on slavery, war and American history. From a packed audience at New York's Town Hall, a voice asked, "Mr. Douglass, what do we do? What do we do now?"

The aged figure of Abolitionist Douglass struggled out of the chair. "Agitate!" he cried....

Want the full story?

Subscribe Now

Subscribe
Subscribe

Learn more about the benefits of being a TIME subscriber

If you are already a subscriber sign up — registration is free!