Claudette Colvin by Phillip Hoose Page B

the corners, and devised their own transportation system. Coached by leaders of Baton Rouge’s bus boycott of 1953, the Montgomery Improvement Association (MIA) designed an alternative to the buses on the scale of a wartime military transport system, moving tens of thousands of maids and yard men and clerks and students around Montgomery’s far-flung neighborhoods every day. And it was entirely voluntary—it ran on dedication, generosity, and hope.
    THE MONTGOMERY IMPROVEMENT ASSOCIATION
    Leaders believed that a new organization was needed to run the boycott, so they created the Montgomery Improvement Association (MIA). Determined to avoid friction between established black leaders, they nominated as president a newcomer, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., pastor of the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church. “Well, if you think I can render some service, I will,” he replied. A board of twenty-five directors was named.
    After thousands voted to continue the boycott beyond one day, the MIA had a lot of work to do. They had to design the car pool, put it in motion, and pay for it. Mass meetings were held twice a week to keep spirits up and collect donations. As the boycott rolled on, donations poured in from all over the country—eventually enough for the MIA to buy more than thirty station wagons.
    Some teens organized their social lives around the mass meetings. Annie Larkin, then sixteen, recalls, “I’d go home from school, get my homework done, and my grandmother would have dinner ready so my aunt and I could go to mass meetings together. I went every Tuesday and Thursday night, no matter where.”
    The MIA network was unveiled in detail at a mass meeting on December 12. There would be forty-two morning pickup “stations” and forty-eight evening stations scattered throughout Montgomery. These points had been carefully plotted on maps by mail carriers, the workers who knew the city best. The central dispatch station would be a black-owned downtown parking lot, manned by an on-call transportation committee. The “buses” would be a giant car pool consisting of ordinary people’s automobiles. Car owners were asked to lend their vehicles to the MIA car pool so that other people could drive them around town. For most people, especially if they had little money, having a car was a proud symbol of status. Letting total strangers drive one’s car around all day was a hard thing to ask, but nearly two hundred people turned over their keys to the boycott.
    Here’s how it worked: a maid needing to get across town to her white employer’s home would walk to the morning station nearest her home and wait for a ride. After work she would walk to the nearest night station to be picked up and driven to a drop-off point nearer her home. Since it was against the law for private cars to charge fares like licensed taxis, the network would be paid for by donations collected at the mass meetings. Most of the rides would be free.
    Though the network was elegantly designed, there were not enough seats in the car pool to replace an entire city bus system. Thousands of blackworkers, including many who were elderly and some who were disabled, set out from home in the predawn darkness and walked miles each day. Some preferred to walk to show their support for the boycott rather than accept a ride even from the MIA car pool. One MIA driver told the story of having come upon an elderly woman hobbling along the road. “Jump in, grandmother,” he said to her, pushing open the door. She waved him on. “I’m not walking for myself,” she said. “I’m walking for my children and my grandchildren.”

    The third month of the boycott and another day of walking
    Family members made enormous sacrifices and sometimes hobbled home with barely enough energy to eat supper. And family chores like shopping had to continue. That meant more steps. The foot-weary warriors told their