I was in a major urban center when Martin Luther King was killed. Looters were running past my rowhouse with crates of booze on their heads. I could see smoke from 3 blocks away where stores were burning. I didn’t have a gun at the time. I pulled the curtains and stacked boards up behind them. Got my ax, filled my bathtub with water, got my buckets filled. Then I put dinner in the oven and packed a suitcase with our few valuables and photos, plus clothing and travel money.
Just then my husband came home from helping a friend rescue his girlfriend from her job site. He was frantic because he had passed by where the actual looting was taking place. He wanted to run right out to the car and flee. I calmed him down, packed the dinner to go, grabbed the suitcase and said, “now we will walk with all deliberate speed and drive away normally.” We spent 3 days at my father’s place in the country. When we got back we heard how the neighbors had brought sandwiches to the national guardsmen who were parked with their tanks up the street.