In 1965 a white, Jewish, twenty-one year old living in Toronto was sitting, in his family home, watching the news on television. What he saw so moved him, so disgusted him, he was compelled to go to Greenwood, Mississippi. To help. To do something. To get involved. To join the fight for equal rights. To be part of the Civil Rights Movement.
To help black residents register to vote.
The twenty-one year old Canadian was Paul Saltzman; and, while on his way into a Greenwood courthouse, he was stopped, and chased, by three white youths. Even though he ran for his life, they caught up with him. One slugged him, knocking him to the ground. In hindsight he was very lucky. They might just as easily have shot Continue reading