The Moment

In 1963, when Barack Hussein Obama was a toddler and his mother's marriage was illegal in 19 states, Martin Luther King Jr. gave his most famous speech. But before he got to the part about his dream, he asked himself a rhetorical question: "When will you be satisfied?"

King knew how long he would remain unsatisfied. As long as motels were off limits to blacks; as long as his children read signs saying FOR WHITES ONLY. "We cannot be satisfied," King declared, "as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote."

On Nov. 4, in brilliant early-morning sunshine, Harry E. Brown made his way with a walnut cane along a Kansas City, Mo., boulevard, carrying the heavy metal folding chair that had helped him through a two-hour wait to cast his ballot. He had a mile and a half still ahead of him. "The only reason I'd walk this far," Brown said, was for Barack Obama. "It's not because of the color of his skin--it's because of the change he will bring to America." Back when King was dreaming a father's dreams for his children, Brown lived in Mississippi. "I rode in buses when the blacks had to stand in the back. I drank at water fountains that said COLOREDS. You couldn't eat at the restaurants. You had to get your meals in a brown paper sack at the back door."

The day after Obama's election, poverty among black Americans was still twice the national average. In some ways, change has come slowly, if at all. But in another sense, it came sooner than we--and King--imagined. Admit it: not so long ago, you pictured this day against a backdrop of jet-pack travel and colonies on Mars.

Harry Brown walked slowly but with great dignity. Unexpectedly, his wife drove up, having completed her morning mission to deliver wheelchairs to precincts where exhausted voters might need them. Brown loaded his folding chair and climbed into the car. His journey was, in the end, faster than he had expected.