It was 50 years ago today that their bodies were finally discovered in a rural dam after a 44-day search. Barely out of adolescence, they're iconic in American history, their story told and retold by better storytellers than me. But as with all icons, sometimes we sit before the canonized versions and miss who they had been as human beings. And their humanity affords us so much insight, even a half-century after their deaths on June 21, 1964.
Andrew Goodman (b. 11/23/43) grew up in New York, the son of affluent and progressive professionals. Intelligent and unassuming, he attended the Walden School and Queens College: hearing Allard Lowenstein describe Mississippi as "the most totalitarian state in the nation" sparked Goodman's application to the Mississippi Summer Project. He knew the risks and dangers; each volunteer had been thoroughly trained and forewarned. "I'm scared, but I'm going," he told a friend. He arrived in Mississippi the day of his death, enthused and ready to work, knowing he'd lived a sheltered and privileged life, hoping to learn from the summer ahead. Check out the foundation in his name: www.andrewgoodman.org
James Chaney (b. 5/30/43) was finding his way in life that summer. He'd been disqualified from the army (asthma), tried apprenticing as a plasterer, then volunteered his services at the Meridian CORE offices, where he was quickly befriended by Mickey and Rita Schwerner. His value was that as a native Mississippian, he could go places white CORE volunteers could not. Although quiet and shy in public, his family described him as a cut-up at home. On the day he left, he promised his little brother Ben he'd take him for a ride as soon as he got back. His daughter, whom he would never meet, was born during the 44-day search. www.jecf.org
Michael "Mickey" Schwerner (b. 11/6/39) was the "old man" of the group, a New Yorker who'd studied rural sociology at Cornell and felt an "emotional need" to work in the South for a more integrated society. Nicknamed "Goatee" by suspicious Mississippi locals, by June '64 he was the most despised and conspicuous Civil Rights worker in the state, and the Klan's leader, Sam Bowers, had ordered his death. Schwerner was married, described as "full of life and ideas," and believed all people were essentially good. He had a dog named Gandhi, loved sports, poker, WC Fields, and rock'n'roll.
His widow Rita remarried, became a lawyer, and is now a grandmother. In an interview she said, "I think anything that broadens one's understanding of the issues that people struggle with, the life decisions that people have to make, helps in your understanding as a lawyer. Nothing in your life happens in a vacuum."
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