Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was feeling good when he walked into Blumstein’s department store in Harlem on September 20, 1958 to sign copies of his new book, Stride Toward Freedom. King was a rising star in the burgeoning American Civil Rights Movement who was still basking in the glory of his role in helping end of the 13-month Montgomery bus boycott. He was equally proud of his role in the U.S. Supreme Court’s 1956 decision to permanently desegregate buses in Montgomery, Alabama.
King had been arrested 17 days before the book signing for failing to obey a police officer. He was released a day later, when his fine was paid by the police commissioner. Now, three days after his first book had been released, he was anxious to meet Harlem residents face-to-face and get their reaction. King’s entourage had snubbed Harlem’s leading black bookseller in favor of a Jewish-owned department store located on 230 West 125th St. (between Seventh and Eighth avenues). After all Blumstein’s didn’t even sell books. Regardless, the event promised to be a positive experience for the 29-year-old pastor of the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery.
Upon entering the store at 3:30 p.m., King graciously spoke to the 20 people standing in line as he passed, shaking hands and thanking them for coming out on such a warm Harlem afternoon. He took his place behind the table and began the arduous, but not unpleasant, task of signing books for “his people.” Suddenly, a well-dressed woman who had not been among the fans standing in line approached. She slipped through a narrow opening between the desk and table and asked him if he was Martin Luther King, Jr. When King looked up from behind the stack of books on the signing table and nodded affirmatively, she said, “I’ve been looking for you for five years.” She then reached into her coat, pulled out a shiny object, and stabbed King in the upper left chest with what turned out to be a seven-inch long steel letter opener.
Understandably, the crowd went crazy. Curry ran away screaming “I’ve been after him for six years! I’m glad I done it!” Even though he now had a sharpened steel blade lodged between his heart and lung, Dr. King remained calm, comforting bystanders by repeating, “Everything is going to be alright.” The would-be assassin was pursued by six women who had been standing in line while waiting their turn to meet the handsome young evangelist. The deranged woman was finally restrained by an ad salesman from the Amsterdam News.
When police arrived, they searched her and found a .25-calibre Italian automatic pistol hidden away in her purse. Surprisingly, Dr. King remained calm — in shock, but very calm and composed. Amazingly, a freelance photographer for the New York Daily News named Vernoll Coleman was there. Mr. Coleman snapped one of the most unbelievable, yet relatively unknown, photographs I know of. It pictures Dr. King calmly seated in a chair with the letter opener protruding from his chest. There he was treated for a cut on the hand by an unidentified woman, seemingly unaware of the steel object between his tie and suit jacket lapel that was surely rising and falling with every breath.
King had no way of knowing that the tip of the blade was resting precariously alongside his aorta. King was rushed to nearby Harlem hospital where he underwent hours of delicate emergency surgery to remove the opener. Later it was determined that just one sneeze, cough or an attempt to remove the offending blade could have punctured the aorta and instantly killed him.
At Harlem Hospital, King was operated on for two and half-hours by surgeon Dr. Aubre de Lambert Maynard, Harlem Hospital’s most acclaimed African-American surgeon. Maynard rushed to treat King straight from a formal affair, still wearing his tuxedo. Dr. Maynard later described what he saw upon his arrival at the hospital: “I went immediately to the operating floor and found Governor Harriman sitting on a stretcher with his Secret Service men. Governor Harriman said, ‘Where have you been?’ This was an election year, with Nelson Rockefeller the liberal Republican candidate challenging incumbent Averill Harriman, both vying for the ‘Negro’ vote that would eventually elect one of them governor. King was not yet at the height of his fame, but the candidates and their handlers knew he was an up-and-coming leader and they wanted to register their concern for him.
“I went into the operating area and they had Dr. King along the side of the operating room, with an intravenous drug in his arm and he was all covered. He was absolutely silent, his eyes were closed. He said nothing at the time. I looked at him. All I could see was the knife, which looked like a large dagger, sticking out of his chest. I went to him, softly spoke into his ear: ‘Don’t worry, Dr. King, I’m Dr. Maynard. I’ll do the very best for you, so don’t worry, you’ll be all right.’” Dr. Maynard continued, “I immediately decided on the position and all the factors necessary for a successful approach to the job. That took a little time. We had to do all that without the knife being touched. When I was satisfied that everything was in order, it was a question of cleaning the skin areas and all over the chest and arm. With that done, we started the surgery and it was carried out, I would say successfully.”
Ten days after the incident Dr. King, while still hospitalized, publicly stated that he held no resentment toward Curry and that he had hoped she would receive the help she needed. From his hospital bed where he convalesced, King issued a statement through his wife Coretta Scott King affirming his nonviolent principles and said this about his attacker: “She was obviously disturbed and she no doubt is not completely responsible for her actions” In a September 30 press release King reaffirmed his belief in “the redemptive power of nonviolence” and issued a hopeful statement about his attacker, “I felt no ill will toward Mrs. Izola Currey [sic] and know that thoughtful people will do all in their power to see that she gets the help she apparently needs if she is to become a free and constructive member of society.” King’s attacker was deemed mentally ill by the Magistrate at her arraignment and she was taken to Bellevue Hospital.
When Martin Luther King, Jr. visited Indianapolis’ Cadle Temple three months later on December 12, 1958 he was still under doctors’ orders to take it easy. Eventually, he would make a full recovery to continue with his civil rights work until the fateful evening of April 4, 1968. Unlike the events of that infamous date, this assault was not racially motivated. It remains, however, little known, as if the entire event never happened. But it surely did happen and it was never far from the mind of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Over the years, much has been made of the precognitive powers of Dr. King. Everyone knows of Dr. King’s speech at the Lincoln Memorial and most admirers can recall his eerie “Mountaintop” speech given in a crowded church in Memphis, Tennessee just hours before he was killed. As a storm raged outside and thunder and lightning rattled the windows inside, King spoke of the injustice felt by the city’s sanitation workers, who were on strike protesting low pay and poor working conditions.
What most don’t recall is that Dr. King made a reference to this book store incident in that prophetic April 3, 1968 speech that seems to predict his own death. What people remember about that speech are these words: “Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn’t matter with me now, because I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life — longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over, and I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land. So I’m happy, tonight. I’m not worried about anything, I’m not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.”
Lesser known are the words he spoke before making that closing statement of the last sermon he would ever deliver. Here are his words as he described what happened: “You know, several years ago, I was in New York City autographing the first book that I had written. And while sitting there autographing books, a demented black woman came up. The only question I heard from her was, “Are you Martin Luther King?” And I was looking down writing, and I said, “Yes.” And the next minute I felt something beating on my chest. Before I knew it I had been stabbed by this demented woman. I was rushed to Harlem Hospital. It was a dark Saturday afternoon. And that blade had gone through, and the X-rays revealed that the tip of the blade was on the edge of my aorta, the main artery. And once that’s punctured, your drowned in your own blood — that’s the end of you.”
King continued, “It came out in the New York Times the next morning, that if I had merely sneezed, I would have died. Well, about four days later, they allowed me, after the operation, after my chest had been opened, and the blade had been taken out, to move around in the wheelchair in the hospital. They allowed me to read some of the mail that came in, and from all over the states and the world, kind letters came in. I read a few, but one of them I will never forget. I had received one from the President and the Vice-President. I’ve forgotten what those telegrams said. I’d received a visit and a letter from the Governor of New York, but I’ve forgotten what that letter said. But there was another letter that came from a little girl, a young girl who was a student at the White Plains High School. And I looked at that letter, and I’ll never forget it.”
Dr. King continued, “It said simply, Dear Dr. King, I am a ninth-grade student at the White Plains High School. And she said, While it should not matter, I would like to mention that I’m a white girl. I read in the paper of your misfortune, and of your suffering. And I read that if you had sneezed, you would have died. And I’m simply writing you to say that I’m so happy that you didn’t sneeze. And I want to say tonight — I want to say tonight that I too am happy that I didn’t sneeze. Because if I had sneezed, I wouldn’t have been around here in 1960, when students all over the South started sitting-in at lunch counters. And I knew that as they were sitting in, they were really standing up for the best in the American dream, and taking the whole nation back to those great wells of democracy which were dug deep by the Founding Fathers in the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution.”
“If I had sneezed, I wouldn’t have been around here in 1961, when we decided to take a ride for freedom and ended segregation in inter-state travel. If I had sneezed, I wouldn’t have been around here in 1962, when Negroes in Albany, Georgia, decided to straighten their backs up. And whenever men and women straighten their backs up, they are going somewhere, because a man can’t ride your back unless it is bent. If I had sneezed — If I had sneezed I wouldn’t have been here in 1963, when the black people of Birmingham, Alabama, aroused the conscience of this nation, and brought into being the Civil Rights Bill. If I had sneezed, I wouldn’t have had a chance later that year, in August, to try to tell America about a dream that I had had. If I had sneezed, I wouldn’t have been down in Selma, Alabama, to see the great Movement there. If I had sneezed, I wouldn’t have been in Memphis to see a community rally around those brothers and sisters who are suffering. I’m so happy that I didn’t sneeze.”
Had the would-be assassin in Harlem been able to sink the blade of her letter opener a fraction of an inch deeper, it would have changed the world forever. Civil rights legislation may have taken longer to come to fruition, or perhaps never occurred at all. Who knows how long things would have remained as they were without Dr. King’s patience and guidance? For my part, I’m glad that Izola Ware Curry’s aim was off that day. Oh, Dr. King, I’m glad you didn’t sneeze too.
Part 3: Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in Indianapolis.
Al Hunter is the author of the “Haunted Indianapolis” and co-author of the “Haunted Irvington” and “Indiana National Road” book series. Contact Al directly at Huntvault@aol.com or become a friend on Facebook.
