A Late 1960's Reflection of Kansas City

In late 1967, I was home from two and a half years with the

Army stationed in Germany. I moved back to Kansas City with

my new family, and in early 1968 I began work at Benson Man-

ufacturing. It was a cold and snowy winter as I recall. Perhaps

it only felt that way because I had to get up in the morning be-

fore dawn and make three bus connections to arrive at Benson

before my starting time of 7:30. I was mighty happy when spring

finally arrived. At least the sun was up for my commute, and I

didn’t have to trek though ice and snow, standing out in the bit-

ter and blustery Midwestern winter cold as I waited for busses.

On April 4^th  1968, my twenty-first birthday, Martin Luther King

was assassinated In Memphis. I remember watching the tragic

events unfold on TV that evening. Riots had erupted in some

thirty U.S. cities. Whole city block had been set ablaze; there

were lootings, shootings and arrests. I wondered what kind of

country I had come home to, I mean with the hippie and student

movements against the war in Vietnam, and now this—the mur-

der of our county’s leading civil rights advocate and riots in our

city streets? Our Nation was in flux, and to me it seemed as if

everything was coming apart at the seams.

Kansas City was not immediately affected by riots, but they

did eventually arrive. They ignited here on the day of Martin

Luther King’s funeral, April 9^th, when city officials refused to

close schools in respect of the fallen leader. And that’s when

all hell broke loose. Five people were killed, many more were

injured, and there were dozens of arrests. Oh, and many build-

ings and vehicles were broken into and set on fire. Lootings and

shootings were widespread especially along the Troost corridor,

the route I took by bus to get to my work.  In passing, I remem-

ber the shattered glass, the gutted and smoldering buildings, the

vacated streets and sidewalks of a war-zone.

I had just turned twenty-one years old; I had a wife and one-year

old child, and a three-year inactive status with the Army hanging

over my head. I was concerned that with all the goings-on here and

abroad, I would most certainly be recalled to active duty. For whom

or what would I be fighting? The future looked very uncertain to me.

And for many fighting on foreign and domestic shores, the times

were without a doubt uncertain and bleak. (I’m not sure if our Nation

has fully recovered yet.) There are always new issues which throw us

into perilous times. Are we up to the challenge to face them head-on?

We have to be, I suppose. After all, this is our city, our country, these

are our families, this is the place we call home.

Chris Hanch  10-8-15