The Rhythm of the Movement: Soul Music and the March on Washington
In the blistering heat of August 1963, the air in Birmingham was thick with more than just the Southern sun—it carried the weight of a city fractured by Bull Connor’s brutal tactics and the hope of a movement refusing to yield. Against this backdrop of fire hoses, snarling police dogs, and defiance, the Shirelles—trailblazing queens of soul and pioneers—took the stage at Miles College’s Salute to Freedom benefit concert on August 5.
The Shirelles. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
• STAR POWER FOR THE MARCH ON WASHINGTON •
For nearly a decade, the Civil Rights Movement had found its heartbeat in the Black church. More than a sanctuary, it was a command center where strategies were forged, and hope was rekindled. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. delivered sermons that reverberated from Montgomery to Atlanta, stirring action and courage. Gospel legends like Mahalia Jackson used their voices as shields, rallying weary spirits during pivotal moments like the Montgomery bus boycott. Even in the face of death threats, Jackson—rightfully crowned "The Queen of Gospel"—sang for freedom, turning fear into fuel for the Movement.
Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
The lineup alone for the Salute to Freedom concert was enough to electrify: Ray Charles and the Raelettes, Nina Simone, Ella Fitzgerald, Clyde McPhatter, Johnny Mathis, and the Shirelles, joined by James Baldwin’s commanding presence. Each name was a spark, promising an unforgettable night of music and resilience. This wasn’t just a concert; it was a declaration and a lifeline. The funds raised would ferry Alabama residents to Washington, D.C., for the historic March on Washington later that month. But in “Bombingham,” staging such an event was an act of pure audacity and white supremacists and citizens took notice.
Earlier that year in April, Dr. King was arrested in Birmingham during a nonviolent protest against segregation and racial injustice. The demonstration was part of the Birmingham Campaign, organized by the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC) and local activists to challenge the city’s oppressive Jim Crow laws. Dr. King and others deliberately violated a court injunction banning protests, knowing the arrest would draw national attention to their cause.
During his eight days in jail, Dr. King crafted his iconic Letter from Birmingham Jail, a profound defense of civil disobedience and a direct response to white clergy who had criticized his methods. In the letter, King eloquently asserted that individuals have a moral duty to defy unjust laws and confront systemic injustice through nonviolent action. Months later, the letter was published in the Christian Century and the Atlantic, amplifying its impact nationwide. Now, Dr. King had returned to Birmingham, this time for the Salute for Freedom benefit concert, further solidifying his connection to the city’s pivotal role in the civil rights movement.
“The authorities of Birmingham were doing everything they could to not make this happen,” Richard Dublin, a musician at the event, later recalled. Originally planned for Birmingham’s Municipal Auditorium—the site where Nat King Cole had been attacked years earlier—the concert was abruptly canceled. Officials blamed a laughable double booking and an urgent paint job. Refusing to back down, organizers built a rickety stage on the football field at Miles College, a historically Black institution. It wasn’t much—just wooden boards in the Alabama sun—but it was to become a sanctuary that night. There would be no deploying of fire hoses and police dogs against demonstrators.
“The authorities of Birmingham were doing everything they could to not make this happen.”
- Richard Dublin, musician
An estimated 16,000 to 20,000 people poured into Miles College that evening, each paying five dollars and lugging their own chairs. It wasn’t just the music that drew them—it was the chance to be part of history. Dr. King’s brother and one of the event’s key organizers, A.D. King, described it as “the first integrated show and audience in Birmingham’s history.” That milestone alone made the night perilous. Police flatly refused to provide protection, and threats of violence hung heavy in the humid air. Yet, against that backdrop of fear, the voices rising from the stage and the crowd defied every effort to silence them.
As the Shirelles took the stage, they stood just feet from Dr. King who sat leaning forward and beaming with clasped hands. Their voices, rich with emotion, poured into the warm night air as they sang “Will You Love Me Tomorrow,” “Mama Said (There’ll Be Days Like This),” and “Dedicated to the One I Love.” The harmonies turned that makeshift stage into a pulpit of resistance, defying the chokehold of Jim Crow with every note. This wasn’t just a performance—it was a battle cry. The Shirelles didn’t just sing; they became the sweet soul heartbeat of a movement, using their beautiful melodies to inspire hope, shift mountains, and affirm that this rhythm stood firmly on the right side of history.
LISTEN TO “WILL YOU LOVE ME TOMORROW” BY THE SHIRELLES
Then came disaster. Midway through Johnny Mathis’s set, the stage collapsed, severing a power line and plunging the field into darkness. For a moment, panic swept through the crowd. Was this it? Had white supremacists struck again? But instead of chaos, something extraordinary happened. The crowd broke into a freedom song, voices rising together in defiance of the silence.
And then, like an answered prayer, the power returned thirty minutes later. The music and speeches resumed, spilling way past midnight. That night was more than a concert; it was a testament to unity, courage, and the unyielding spirit of the Civil Rights Movement.
• “I HAVE A DREAM” •
Motown founder Berry Gordy took a historic step toward publicly supporting the Civil Rights Movement in June, when he recorded Dr. King’s first “I Have a Dream” speech at Detroit’s Cobo Hall on June 23, 1963. The recording was released as The Great March to Freedom—a groundbreaking spoken-word album that marked the first time Motown officially leveraged its platform and resources to back the Movement. Adding to its significance, the album bore Berry Gordy’s personal stamp, as it was distributed under the Gordy subsidiary label, directly linking his name to the fight for justice and equality.
Gordy said to Harvey Kubernick for Goldmine decades later: “I was very connected to Dr. King and liked his philosophy and he taught me the wisdom of non-violence. As I said in the book [To Be Loved], I was never like a ‘turn-the-other-cheek kind-of-guy,’ you know? I wasn’t brought up that way. In the inner city, you don’t do that. But he taught me the wisdom of non-violence. While we were victims, others were victims too. White people were victims when they let their prejudices hold them back. He was more with my philosophy of communicating with people around the world. Understanding. I think we all want the same kind of thing. We all want peace, we all want love, we all want togetherness. And I think one thing that music has done is brought people together with the same ideas. Forgetting what the color of their skin is and all that.”
Eager to demonstrate his support, Berry Gordy personally presented Dr. King with a copy of The Great March to Freedom during a visit to Atlanta. Posing for photos with Dr. King while stars like Lena Horne and Billy Taylor looked on with pride, the moment seemed triumphant—until it took an unexpected turn. Shortly afterward, Dr. King filed a lawsuit against Motown for copyright infringement, though the case was later dropped. Despite its awkward debut, the album was officially released on August 28, 1963—a date etched in history as the day of the March on Washington.
Although the March on Washington became a defining moment in the Civil Rights Movement, the absence of many prominent R&B artists was notable. Surprisingly, no major Motown acts were in attendance. In contrast, the event drew a star-studded roster that included Sammy Davis Jr., Harry Belafonte, Ruby Dee, Sidney Poitier, Diahann Carroll, Eartha Kitt, Kirk Douglas, and Lena Horne. White performers such as Joan Baez, Peter, Paul & Mary, Bobby Darin, and Bob Dylan also lent their voices to the cause. Many of these entertainers signed a proclamation declaring that “all forms of racial segregation are injurious to the arts of the nation.” Notably, no R&B artists added their names to the statement, leaving a conspicuous gap in representation from the genre most deeply intertwined with the Movement's cultural heartbeat.
Odetta Holmes. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
• ODETTA HOLMES •
Among the many iconic voices at the March on Washington in 1963 was Odetta Holmes, hailed by Dr. King as “The Queen of American Folk Music.” Though trained in opera from the age of 13, Odetta believed that a Black girl from Alabama—especially one who didn’t fit the mold of conventional beauty—would never grace the stage of the Metropolitan Opera. Instead, she channeled her powerhouse voice into folk music and musical theater, even recording duets with Harry Belafonte.
Standing before a crowd of 250,000 on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, Odetta performed three soul-stirring songs, including the hauntingly powerful “Oh, Freedom,” a spiritual rooted in the days of slavery. Her performance resonated far beyond that moment, inspiring artists like Janis Joplin, Mavis Staples, Bob Dylan, and Joan Baez. Even Rosa Parks, according to biographers, counted herself as Odetta’s biggest fan.
LISTEN TO “OH, FREEDOM” BY ODETTA HOLMES
Dubbed “The Voice of the Civil Rights Movement,” Odetta’s blend of folk music—spirituals, blues, and work songs—with activism left an indelible mark. She later returned to her home state of Alabama to lend her voice to those marching from Selma to Montgomery, proving once again that her music was a force of resistance and hope.
• “WE SHALL OVERCOME” •
Also among the performers at the March on Washington were the Freedom Singers, a student quartet originally formed at Albany State College in Georgia by Cordell Reagon, a field secretary for the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC). Their journey to the Lincoln Memorial was the culmination of an extraordinary first year—traveling over 50,000 miles in a Buick station wagon, performing in more than 40 cities to rally support for SNCC’s work.
With roots in Black Baptist a cappella church singing, the Freedom Singers infused protest songs with spirituals and hymns, creating a powerful soundtrack for the movement. Their rigorous schedule often included up to four performances a day, taking them to college campuses, house parties, churches, demonstrations, marches, and even jails. Arrests were a frequent consequence of their refusal to leave segregated areas, but they continued undeterred.
“We traveled 50,000-plus miles in nine months, covering 46 states,” said Rutha Mae Harris, one of the original Freedom Singers. “And while we were traveling through Alabama, we were shot at. You should have heard us singing and praying. But we got through that.”
“While we were traveling through Alabama, we were shot at. You should have heard us singing and praying. But we got through that.”
- Rutha Mae Harris of the Freedom Singers
Later that year, the Freedom Singers released their one and only studio album, We Shall Overcome, leaving behind a recorded legacy that reflected the courage and conviction they carried across the country.
The Freedom Singers were, as member Bernice Johnson Reagon described, “a singing newspaper,” using their performances to educate the public through a seamless blend of spoken word and song. They were innovators, transforming traditional “old Negro spirituals” into powerful anthems that connected the struggles of the past to the pressing realities of the Civil Rights Movement.
When performing “We Shall Overcome,” the group, in Reagon's words, “threw in additional slides and calls in the song, pushing the song higher and higher,” setting a new standard for how the anthem would resonate in future movements. Their creativity didn’t stop there. In southwest Georgia, known for its “enriched style” of singing, the Freedom Singers reimagined the line “over my head I see trouble in the air,” transforming it into “over my head I see freedom in the air.”
LISTEN TO “WE SHALL OVERCOME” BY THE FREEDOM SINGERS
This simple yet profound shift in lyrics empowered people to use music as a vehicle for expressing their mindset during the Movement. It demonstrated how tradition could evolve to meet the needs of a new era of resistance and hope.
Realizing the potential of a missed opportunity, Gordy responded with a new album titled The Great March on Washington, which showcased recordings from speakers at the historic August 28 event. Among the tracks was a stirring rendition of “We Shall Overcome” by gospel singer Liz Lands, an artist Gordy had been introduced to by Dr. King. Released once again under the Motown label bearing his name, Gordy successfully established a post-event connection for the brand.
LISTEN TO “WE SHALL OVERCOME” BY LIZ LANDS ACCOMPANIED BY ‘THE VOICES OF SALVATION’
Gordy elevated the album's impact by featuring cover art boldly stamped with endorsements from powerhouse organizations like the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, the National Urban League, and the NAACP. This wasn’t just an artistic statement—it was a declaration of solidarity. Inside, listeners found more than music; the album also showcased stirring speeches from the presidents and executives of these influential groups and others.
Stax, too, did not send any artists to participate in the March on Washington. However, years later, the idea of traveling to Washington to spark change would inspire songs like the Staple Singers’ Long Walk to D.C.
“I was caught up in the cultural revolution, the March on Washington and all that,” recalled Stax songwriter Homer Banks, who penned Long Walk to D.C. for the Staple Singers in 1968. “I said, ‘Man, I need to jump on this issue right here, but who could record it?’ Coincidentally, a week later, the Staple Singers were coming in to record.”
LISTEN TO “LONG WALK TO D.C.” BY THE STAPLE SINGERS
The fall of 1963 ushered in a period of deep uncertainty for America. In November, the nation was rocked by the assassination of President John F. Kennedy in Dallas, Texas. A staunch advocate for integration and civil rights, Kennedy's death left many fearing that Black America's hard-fought progress had suffered an irreparable blow. With the world now altered, the weight of grief and fear cast a long shadow, leaving the country teetering on the edge of an uncertain future.
• “MAY WHAT HE LIVED FOR LIVE“ •
“I was deeply saddened by the death of John Kennedy,” Gordy recalled years later. “I believed him to be an honest man and a good man and believed him to be a great President who embraced and created hope for Black people in a way that had not been felt in modern times. A feeling of loss and shock hung over everything in those months of late 1963 and early ’64.”
The shock of Kennedy's assassination rippled through the heart of America's music scene, reaching the iconic halls of Hitsville U.S.A., Soulsville U.S.A., and every studio where creativity brewed in response to the turbulent times. Inevitably, music became a vessel for these emotions. Motown’s Studio A was quick to capture the collective grief, releasing a powerful single written by Gordy himself, “May What He Lived For Live.” The song featured Liz Lands whose voice became the soundtrack to the nation's sorrow.
Liz Lands. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
In the summer of 1964, Gordy sent Al Abrams, Motown's head of PR and publicity, to the Democratic National Committee in Atlantic City to represent the company. Abrams, a Jewish man with deep conviction, aimed to distribute two thousand free copies of “May What He Lived For Live” to delegates, hoping it would attract national attention and boost sales. The track found its place in the memorial to Kennedy at the convention, which was organized by Joe Lieberman, then an administrative assistant to DNC chairman John Moran Bailey. In response, Motown received heartfelt thank-you letters from both Harry Truman and Robert F. Kennedy.
Despite the visible tribute to President Kennedy’s legacy, Gordy remained wary of the political consequences. While there was no denying President Kennedy's crucial role in fueling the momentum of the Civil Rights Movement, Gordy was cautious about the potential fallout. The song was released under the Gordy subsidiary label, but with the Gordy name still boldly emblazoned, cementing his personal and Motown’s connection to the cause.
LISTEN TO “MAY WHAT HE LIVED FOR LIVE” BY LIZ LANDS AND ‘THE VOICES OF SALVATION’
Gordy remained acutely aware of the delicate balance required to maintain Motown’s crossover appeal and steered clear of overt political endorsements. This sensitivity was evident when he noticed a Johnson-Humphrey campaign poster in Abrams’ Motown office. Concerned about how distributors might perceive it, Gordy insisted on its removal, prioritizing the label’s universal appeal over any potential political statements.
While Motown tread carefully, other artists and groups, unencumbered by corporate caution, took a more direct and outspoken approach to activism.