Day 102.

I took a look at the #NotTheEnemy hashtag on Twitter today. And there I was reminded of L. Alex Wilson.

If you’ve seen 13TH, Ava DuVernay’s documentary about the United States prison system’s racist history, you know Wilson. He is the tall, serious man in the suit and hat who is being chased and attacked by a mob. I didn’t know his name before I came across DuVernay’s tweet about him, nor what he was doing the day he was attacked.

Wilson was in Little Rock Arkansas that day covering the Little Rock Nine, the group of students then in the process of integrating Central High School, for the Tri-State Defender of Memphis, TN. It was September 23, 1957. The nine students had faced a racist mob at the entrance of the school and had, for the moment, returned to their homes for their safety. Seeking a target, the mob turned to Wilson instead, kicking, choking and beating him, pelting him with a brick. His injuries were severe – he sustained at least one blow to the head (probably the brick, according to witnesses) that probably brought on Parkinson’s disease, leading to his death three years later.

Every time they struck him he stood back up calmly, put his hat back on, and walked. He did not run. He did not see a doctor.

(The students returned to the school while the mob was assaulting Wilson and they were able to safely enter the building.)

Wilson filed his story on time. He wrote:

I decided not to run. If I were beaten, I’d take it walking if I could – not running. […] Any newsman worth his salt is dedicated to the proposition that it is his responsibility to report the news factually under favorable and unfavorable conditions.

The assaults on Wilson and on photographer Earl Davy were captured by a reporter from the Associated Press. They were seen in newspapers across the country the following day.

People in the press go through Hell to get the truth out. Rather than being the enemy, they’re putting themselves on the line in ways large and small to help citizens see as clearly as possible. I can think of no more important job than that.