 Let us honor and welcome Congresswoman John Beas. Madam Commissioner, thank you for those kind words of introduction. Let me just say to all of the elected and appointed officials, and to the librarian, and to each and every one of you, I'm delighted, very happy, and very pleased to be here. To be in this beautiful building, this magnificent library. When I was growing up in rural Alabama, 50 miles from Montgomery, outside of a little town called Troy, you heard that my father was a sharecropper, a tenant farmer. But in 1944, when I was four years old, and I do remember when I was four, how many do you remember when you were four? Now, what happened to the rest of us? My father has saved $300, and with the $300, he bought 110 acres of land. My family is still on that land today. On this farm, we raise a lot of cotton and corn, peanuts, hogs, cows, and chickens. I will not tell you the chicken story tonight because it may take a little too much time. Well, we tell the chicken story in March, book one. But I'll just give you a little taste of it. As a little boy, it was my responsibility to care for the chickens. And I fell in love with raising chickens like no one else could raise chickens. I became very good at it. I know some of you know about Popeyes, right? Kentucky Fried, right? Bojangles, right? But you don't know anything about raising chickens. You love to eat chicken. But I became very, very good as a little boy, eight, nine years old raising chickens. Some of you realize that you must take the fresh eggs, mark them with a pencil, place them under the sitting hen, and wait for three long weeks for the little chicks to hatch. Some of you may be saying, ah, John Lewis, why don't you mark those fresh eggs with a pencil before you place them under the sitting hen? Well, from time to time, another hen will get on that same nest. And there will be some more eggs. And you have to be able to tear the fresh eggs from the eggs that were already under the sitting hen. Do you follow me? Oh, that's OK if you don't follow me. It's all right. So putting a little chick with hatch, I will fool these sitting hens. I would cheat on these poor sitting hens. I would take these little chicks and put them in a box with a lantern, raise them on their own, or even just give them to another hen. Get some more fresh eggs, mark them with a pencil, place them under the sitting hen, encourage the sitting hen. They stay on the nest for another three weeks. I was never quite able to save $18 and $0.98 to order the most inexpensive incubator or hatchet from the Cisnerobuck store. Any of you old enough to remember the Cisnerobuck store? What about the catalog? Yeah, the big book, thick book, heavy book. Some people call it an Oran book. Other people call it a wish book. I wish I had this. I wish I had that. Well, I just kept on wishing. But when I was a little child, a little boy, I wanted to be a minister. I wanted to preach the gospel. So from time to time to help with my brothers and sisters and cousins, we began all about chickens together in the chicken yard, like together here. And my brothers and sisters and cousins were lying the outside of the chicken yard. But they would help make up the audience, the congregation. And I was sort of speaking of preaching. And when I look back on some of these chickens with their heads, some of these chickens would shake their heads. They never quite said amen. But I'm convinced that some of those chickens that I preached to during the 40s and the 50s tended to listen to me much better than some of my colleagues listen to me today in the Congress. As a matter of fact, some of those chickens were just a little more productive. At least they produce eggs. Growing up there in rural Alabama, when we were visiting the little town of Troy, visit Montgomery, visit Tuskegee, visit Birmingham, I saw those signs that said white men, colored men, white women, colored women, white waiting, colored waiting to go downtown on a Saturday afternoon. All of us little black children had to go upstairs to the balcony. And all the little white children went downstairs to the first floor. And I would come home and ask my mother, my father, my grandparents, my great-grandparents why. They would say, that's the way it is. Don't get in the way, don't get in trouble. But one day in 1955, 15 years old and in 10th grade, I heard about Rosa Parks. I heard the words of Martin Luther King, Jr. on old radio. The action of Rosa Parks and the leadership and words of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. inspired me to find a way to get in the way, to get in trouble. And I got in trouble, necessary trouble. I was so inspired, so inspired by Dr. King and Rosa Parks that in 1956, at the age of 16, with some of my brothers and sisters and cousins, we went down to the Puppet Library, trying to get a library card, trying to check out some books. And the librarian told us that the library is only for whites and not for colors. I never went back to the Pact County Puppet Library in true Alabama. And to July 5, 1998, for a book signing on my first book, Walking with the Wind. And hundreds of blacks and white citizens showed up. They had a reception, had something to eat, something to drink, signed quite a few books. To end of the program, they gave me a library card. It says something about the distance we've come and the progress we made in laying down the burden of race. Some of you may ask, how did I get involved in the Civil Rights Movement? How did I meet Martin Luther King Jr. when I finished high school in May of 1957, 17 years old? I wanted to attend a little college 10 miles from my home called Troy State College, not known at Troy University. Submitted my application, my high school transcript. I never heard a word from the college. So I wrote a letter to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. told him I needed his help. Dr. King wrote me back and sent me a round-trip Graham bus ticket and invited me to come to Montgomery to meet with him. Went off to school in Nashville. An uncle of mine gave me a $100 bill, more money than I ever had. He gave me a foot locker. Ain't it old enough to remember the big foot locker? That trunk that opened up wide? Then you can bring it back together? Had the hangers that you put your clothes in? Had your drawers that you can put something in? I put everything that I own, except those chickens in that foot locker and took a Greyhound bus to Nashville, Tennessee. And after being in Nashville for about three weeks, I told one of my teachers that I've been in contact with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. This teacher knew Martin Luther King Jr. They both had studied together at Morehouse College in Atlanta. So he informed Dr. King that I was in Nashville. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. got back in church and suggested when I went home for spring break to come and see him. On a Saturday morning in March of 1958, I was about 18 years old. My father drove me to the Greyhound bus station, aborted the bus, and traveled at 50 miles from Troy to Montgomery. Rived in Montgomery and a young African-American lawyer, never seen a lawyer before, never met a lawyer before. But a young man by the name of Fred Gray was played in the movie Selma. Been a lawyer for Rosa Parks for Dr. King. Became our lawyer during the Freedom Rise and during the march from Selma to Montgomery. Met me and drove me to the First Baptist Church in downtown Montgomery, passed by the Reverend Ralph Abernathy, a colleague of Dr. King. And ushered me into the pastor's study. I saw Martin Luther King Jr. and Reverend Ralph Abernathy standing behind a desk. I was so scared. I didn't know what to say or what to do. And Dr. King said, are you the boy from Troy? Are you John Lewis? And I said, Dr. King, I am John Robert Lewis. And he started calling me the boy from Troy. I went back home that afternoon and had a discussion with my mother and my father about what Dr. King had to say. That if we pursued my interest in attending Troy State, non-Troy University, we may have to suit the school, the state board of education, that our home could be bombed, could be burned. We may lose the land. My mother and my father were so afraid. So I continued to study in Nashville. And I tell you, it all worked out. Go in Nashville, a group of us, as young people, as students from Fish University, Tennessee State, My Hermitica College, from Vanderbilt University, Peabody College, some high school student, came together and started attending nonviolent workshops conducted by a young man by the name of Jim Lawson, a young man who was part of the Methodist Student Movement, who had lived in India and studied the way of peace, the way of love, the way of nonviolence. We had role playing. We had social drama. And every Tuesday night, we became imbues with the way of peace, with the way of love, with the way of nonviolence. And many of us started accepting the way of nonviolence as a way of life, as a way of living. And then we started sitting in. You'd be sitting there in an orderly, peaceful, nonviolent fashion, waiting to be served. And someone would come up and spit on you or put a lighted cigarette out in your hair or down your back, pull hot water, hot coffee, or hot chocolate on us, pull us off the lunch counter stools. And you look just straight ahead. Members of the media would come by and say, are you part of this group? Are you one of the leaders? And most of us would say, I am just one of the participants. In late February of 1960, I just turned 20 years old. We heard that if we go down on a particular day, on a particular Saturday, it was a possibility of being arrested. When you look at photographs of my involvement, even during the attempt to march from southern to Montgomery on March 7, 1965, for the most part, I always had a tie and a suit on. I heard we were going to be arrested. We were going to go to jail. So I wanted to have something that looked good on. I didn't have much money. So I went to a used men's store in Boston, a suit. It was a used suit. Some of the guys here are old enough to remember. It was a Barton 500. You know anything about that? No, you don't. It's too young. I paid $5 for the suit, and I look good in that suit. Really good. One of my staffer, Andrew Eyden, who's a co-author, standing there, he discovered a photograph of me in that suit on the front page of the National Tennessee Inn, and he said if I still had the suit, I probably would sell it on eBay. I probably wouldn't. But I got arrested, and the first time I was arrested on February 27, 1960. I felt liberated. I felt like I crossed over. So I said to myself, arrest us, jail us, beat us. What else can you do? And we started singing, I'm not afraid of your jail. And later on, we started singing, oh, Wallace, you never can jail us all. And then we went on something called a Freedom Ride. Just think in 1961, the same year that President Barack Obama was born, 1961, white people and white people couldn't leave Washington, DC, seated together on a Greyhound bus or a Trailway bus, traveling into Virginia, into North Carolina, through South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi. We were on our way to New Orleans to test a decision of the United States Supreme Court. My first trip to Washington, May 1, 1961, to be trained to go on a Freedom Ride, 13 of us, seven African-American and six whites. The night on May 3, 1961, we went to a little restaurant, not too far from the nation's capital, to have a meal. Now growing up in rural Alabama, a tennis school in Nashville, Tennessee, I never been to a Chinese restaurant before. Never had Chinese food before. It was a wonderful meal, delicious meal. Some of the women may understand, some of you young ladies may understand. And maybe some of the guys, they had what they called, I guess, the laser, Susan, with the cover dishes, and you just turn it around and hear silver dishes. It was wonderful. And someone said, as you eat, remember, this may be like the last supper. The next day, May 4, we boarded a Greyhound bus and some boarded a trailway bus, leaving Washington, D.C., as an integrated group. The first real incident occurred in a little town called Rock Hill, South Carolina, about 35 miles from Charlotte, North Carolina. When my seatmate, the two of us, tried to enter a so-called white waiting room. My seatmate was a young white gentleman. And members of the clan attacked us and left us lying in a pool of blood. The local police officials came up and wanted to know whether we wanted to press charges. We said, no, we come with peace and love and nonviolence. They left us bloody. The Freedom Rides continued. Many years later, and I remember, this happened in May 1961. In May of February, rather, 09, one of the members of the clan who had beat us came to my Washington office. He heard through a reporter that I was there. Came with his son. His son was in his 40s. He was in his 70s. He said, Mr. Lewis, I'm one of the people that attacked you and your seatmate. I want to apologize. Will you forgive me? I said, yes, I accept your apology. Yes, I forgive you. He started crying. The son started crying. They hugged me. I hugged them back and I started crying. And I saw the gentleman three other times that is the power of the way of peace, the power of the way of love, the power of the way of nonviolent to be reconciled. In the final analysis, we're one people. We're one family. We all live in the same house, not just American house, but the world house. I must tell you tonight that in spite of 40 arrests, jailings, been beaten and left not only bloody in Rock Hill, South Carolina, but at the Greyhound bus station in Montgomery, where I was hit in the head by a member of an angry mob with a wooden Coca-Cola crate. I'm still hopeful, still optimistic. And I said to you here tonight, March, book one, book two, saying in effect, that we must never ever give up. We must never ever give in. We must never get lost in the sea of despair. We must keep the faith in spite of being arrested and going to jail 40 times during the 60th and been arrested five times since I've been in the Congress. I'm not gonna turn back. Who must not turn back? You must not give up. You must not give in. We can create the beloved community here, here in America. This city, this state is known for leading the way. I think if Dr. King could see you tonight, see this audience, he will say you're building the beloved community. And you must continue to spread the good news, the way of love, the way of peace, the way of nonviolence. I'm gonna leave some time for Andrew Eyden, but I do wanna tell you a little story. Just think, almost 50 years ago, when I had all of my hair and a few pounds lighter, 25 years old, all across the South, people of color could not register to vote. People had to pass a so-called register test. Continima of bubbles in a bar soap, Continima of jelly beans in a jar, standing in a move of the lines. A state like the state of Mississippi next door to my native state of Alabama had a voting age, a black voting age population of more than 450,000 and only about 16,000 blacks were registered to vote. One county in Alabama, Lowndes County, between Selma and Montgomery, the county was more than 80% African-American, but that was not a single registered African-American voter in the county. In Selma and in Dallas County, there were more than 15,000 blacks of voting age, and only 159 were registered to vote. We had to act. Some people said, why Selma? Why Mississippi? The state selected herself. The city of Selma selected herself. We went there. People were tied, people were weary, have been beaten, been jailed, couldn't cast a vote. People registered to vote have always said that the vote is precious, almost sacred. It's the most powerful, non-violent instrument or tool we have in a democratic society, and we must use it. Point seven, 1965, a group of us just tried to walk from Selma to Montgomery. We lined up in tools to walk in orderly, peaceful, non-violent fashion. I was wearing a backpack before it became fashionable to wear a backpack. In this backpack, I had two books. I wanted to have something to read in jail. Had one apple and one orange, I wanted to have something to eat. Now, one apple and one orange wouldn't last that long. Had toothpaste and toothbrush. I wanted to be able to brush my teeth since I was gonna be in jail with my friends, my colleagues and neighbors. We get to the highest point on the Epipedish Bridge. Down below we saw a sea of blue Alabama State Troopers. And behind the State Troopers, you saw the Sheriff Posse on horseback. We continued to walk. We came within hearing distance of the State Troopers. A man spoke and said, a major John Cloud of the Alabama State Troopers is an unlawful march. You will not be allowed to continue. I give you three minutes to disperse and return to your homes or to your church. Young man walking beside me and leading the march with me, named Jose Williams from Dr. King's Organization. Said, major, give us a moment to kneel and pray. And the major said, Troopers, advance. You saw these men putting on their gas masks. They came towards us beating us in nightsticks, trimming us with horses and releasing the tear gas. I was hit in the head by a State Trooper with a night stick. My legs went from under me. I fell to the ground. Apparently, I lost consciousness. The doctor said, I had a concussion. I thought I was going to die on that bridge. I thought it was a life's nonviolent protest. But somehow, I survived. And a group of nuns took care of us at their local hospital. And I remember being back at the church that afternoon. And someone said to me, John says something to the audience. And I stood up and said, I don't understand it. How President Johnson can send troops to Vietnam. But can I send troops to sell in Alabama to protect people who only desires to register to vote? And the next thing I knew, I was in that hospital. Early that Monday morning, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Reverend Ralph Abernathy came by to visit me in my hospital room. And Dr. King said, don't worry, John. We will make it from Selma to Montgomery. And the voting ranks, I will be passed. And he was right. President Johnson made one of the most meaningful speeches any American president and made it in more than time on the whole question of civil rights or voting rights. We call it that we shall overcome speech on March 15, 1965. I was there. We listened to Lyndon Johnson, we watched him. I looked at Dr. King and tears came down his face. He started crying and we all cried when we heard Lyndon Johnson said, and we shall overcome. He called out the military to protect us. He sent federal troops to Selma, to Highway 80 as we moored into Montgomery. He introduced the voting rights act. The Congress debated it, it passed, and was signed into law on August 6, 1965. And that's why we're going back to Selma on Moored 7. And President Obama would be there with us. And that one. If it hadn't been for the voting rights act, I wouldn't be in the Congress. Many African American members wouldn't be there. Many white members, Latino members, and Asian American members wouldn't be serving in the Congress. So we made progress, but we're not there yet. We still have a distance to go. We all need to work together. These little children tonight, singing. Almost cried when they were singing. This is our future. These little children represent the best of all of us. And we must leave this little planet of ours. A little cleaner and a little greener and a little more peaceful for our children and their children. And if we can get it right here in America, maybe just maybe it will serve as a model for the rest of the world. But we can lay down the tools and instruments of violence and steady war no more. Thank you very much. This is our co-author of the book, Andrew Eiden, ladies and gentlemen. Who wants to follow that? I'm gonna cheat and I'm just gonna go right into thank yous because I don't know what I can say to compete with that. Cheryl Davis, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. None of this would have been possible without Cheryl and her patients. No, no, no. We could do that for a while. Supervisor London Breed. President. President and the Board of Supervisors, thank you. Jeff Adachi and a personal one from me from Rebecca Prosin from Google. Thank you. Well, shoot, here we are. You guys are probably asking yourself at one point or another, why did John Lewis write a graphic novel? Fair point, right? Well, it started in 2008. It was the summer of hope and change. Barack Obama was sweeping through the Democratic primaries. Anything was possible. Young people were participating in the political process all of a sudden. Politicians were talking about, what is this Facebook? What is this Twitter, right? Well, I was serving as the Congressman's press secretary on his campaign. And it was coming down to the end of the campaign and we were sitting around looking at the light at the end of the tunnel because if you've ever been on a campaign it is an arduous process. It is 16 hour days, weeks on end. And so we started talking about what is it that we're gonna do after? Some people said I'm gonna go see my parents. Some people said I'm gonna go to the beach. I said I'm going to a comic book convention. How many of y'all been to a comic book convention? There we go, see? I knew I came to the right place. The rest of y'all lying, I know you've been. Well, you can imagine what they said in a professional political environment. They all laughed. They had a good ribbing. But from the back of the room, I heard a deep voice. They don't laugh. There was a comic book during the movement and it was incredibly influential. And that was John Lewis telling us about a comic book called Martin Luther King and the Montgomery story. I didn't know it at the time but that moment changed my life. I went home. I Googled it. I found a copy online that you could download. I read it and I was captivated. I mean, could you imagine? I mean, I'm a comic book fan, right? I've been reading these white power fantasies but here was something about a people overcoming that was real and it was influential in its own day, right? We vilified comics for so long. I mean, Congress in and of itself did more damage than just about anybody else although that's unfortunately too common on most issues. So what we did, what I did is I read it and I started asking the Congressman. I mean, this is a man who at 19 held his first sit-in at 20, got arrested for the first time. It's been his 21st birthday in jail. I was 24 years old. This was the kind of role model that we all need especially for a little maladjusted at a young age. And so I started asking him, John Lewis, why don't you write a comic book? He said, oh, well, maybe. Which if you ever get a maybe in politics is generally no but it stuck with me. There was something about it that stayed in my heart and in my brain and so I kept asking because that's what I do, I'm stubborn. So I asked him, John, no, really, John Lewis, why don't you write a comic book? And after a few times he turned around, he looked me dead in the eye and he said, okay, I'll do it but only if you write it with me. Thanks, Juicy. That started what became a five year journey to get March Book One out. I didn't know it was gonna take that long. I didn't know what would be involved but I encountered some people along the way that were pretty amazing. That surprised even me. One of them was the pilgrimage that congressman leads to Alabama every year. This year he's bringing the president. I was on it myself and I got on an elevator and lo and behold, there was Ethel Kennedy and John Seganthaler. Ethel Kennedy is Robert Kennedy's widow and John Seganthaler was Robert Kennedy's aide and also the publisher of the Nashville Tennessean. If you read Book Two, you see John Seganthaler being beaten during the freedom rides. And I was still young and didn't know any better and I just, excuse me, I just thought you might wanna know. Y'all ran a comic book that I'm working on with John Lewis and Ethel Kennedy looked up at me with these big beautiful eyes and she's like, that's nice dear. So you can understand what it meant for me a few years later when she called me on my cell phone to tell me that March Book One was the first graphic novel ever to receive the Robert F. Kennedy Book Award. But the moment that we knew March was gonna be something other than just another book. Something that may have a chance at inspiring another generation to take up non-violence. Came about two weeks before Book One was released and I got a phone call from a reporter at a conservative newspaper that shall remain nameless. And he said, look, I don't usually do this but I gave your book to my nine-year-old son. And he read it and he's gone and he's put on his Sunday suit and now he's marching around my house demanding equality for everyone. But imagine if we could teach every nine-year-old about the civil rights movement in such a way that inspired them to develop a social consciousness. That's what we're trying to do. The Southern Poverty Law Center puts out a report every couple of years that looks at civil rights education in this country and it's full of bad news. The most reason when looked at this country and found that 47 states are failing to adequately teach the civil rights movement. We're changing that. March is already being used in schools in more than 40 states. It's being used as part of freshman reading programs at schools like Michigan State, Marquette University, Georgia State, University of Illinois, Henderson State, and others. We're changing that paradigm. But there is a pedigree to this. I went on to write my master's thesis at Georgetown which got me some looks about Martin Luther King and the Montgomery story, this comic book. And it turns out this comic book was actually edited by Dr. King himself in the fall of 1957. We never think of him like that. We don't think about this man who had creative ideas and worked outside of the box, who poured over a comic book script and offered his own edits that were actually included in the final version. That comic book went on to be used by Jim Lawson who mentored John Lewis all throughout the South. A translated version was used in South America, in Southern California as part of the Workers' Rights Movement. It was used in South Africa to fight apartheid. It was banned by the South African government. It was used in Vietnam. And most recently it was translated into Arabic and Farsi and used into Rear Square during the Arab Spring. 16 pages, sold for 10 cents. And it wasn't the only one. There were comic books made by the NAACP and SNCC in Lowndes County in 64 and 65 to help people register and vote. So we have a pedigree to this. It has worked before. Now, there's another piece of this that's very important. I handle in my day job, my capacity in the congressman's office, I handle social media and technology. In a sense, I tweet for a living. But what I've come to realize is that social media and technology represents the greatest opportunity for this society to organize, mobilize, and change the status quo that we've ever had. But we have to take this generation from being armchair activists who complain and say they don't like things and get them to use these tools to show up. Why do we remember the march on Washington? Because 250,000 people showed up on the streets of Washington and scared the establishment. They were peaceful, they were orderly, they were nonviolent and they made their voice heard through the sound of their marching feet. So where do we start? Where do we use this technology? Where do we use the principles of nonviolent and apply it so that we can build the momentum to truly make a national movement? I believe we start with student loans. We are raising a generation of indentured servants. They are being held back. They're unable to pursue the activist agenda, creativity, that moment of time when you graduate from college and you don't have to go work immediately for a large corporation and do what you're told. That moment where you create, that moment where you inspire each other, put it another way. When John Lewis got married in December of 1968, the wedding announcement read, Lillian Miles to wed unemployed political activist, John Lewis. People who are ahead of their time pay a price and we have to lift the burden of debt so that they can pay the price that we've put on them. I don't wanna get too political so I'm gonna tell you a story. When I was a kid and I went to school, I had several teachers who told me that graphic novels, comic books, weren't real books. Well, I had the opportunity to go back to my high school a couple months ago. And I had a very lovely conversation with one of those teachers about her experiences teaching our graphic novel to her students. It's not about proving your teacher wrong. It speaks to the power of each of us to change the world that we grew up in, to being something different that we leave behind for another generation. I look at March, I look at this graphic novel series as the greatest gift I could give to a man who gave his country so much. Thank you very much. Thank you.