Hodges delivers speech at SC State University during the Orangeburg Massacre 40th Commemoration Ceremony
February 8, 2008

I am truly honored and humbled to be back here with you today. It was eight years ago that I joined you to commemorate the anniversary of the tragic loss of lives and injury at South Carolina State University that has become known as the Orangeburg Massacre. Because as we turn the pages of history, too often the story of February 8, 1968 is missing.

My trip to Orangeburg was one of my most moving experiences during my time in office.

What happened here forty years ago was the first tragedy of its kind on an American college campus. Tom Brokaw's introduction today - and his reporting in his book and recent documentary - help us see the Orangeburg Massacre in the powerful light of history as a national tragedy. This is a good thing.

Few Americans have ever heard the names of Samuel Hammond, Delano Middleton and Henry Smith. Most Americans do not know them as we know them.

Henry Smith was a sophomore from Marion. His mother was secretary of his high school PTA. Henry's mother taught him the importance of a good education. She told her children, "I always figured if I couldn't get it, I was going to have it for my kids. Get them to college and get them what they needed."

Henry kept his promise to his mother. And he wrote her every week to let her know how he was doing in school.

Delano Middleton was a student at Wilkinson High School in Orangeburg. He would often lead his teammates in prayer after football practice. His mother worked at the college, and Delano often spent time on the campus making friends with the older students.

Samuel Hammond was born in Barnwell, and grew up in Florida. He returned to his home state with dreams of becoming a teacher. On a college questionnaire, Samuel was asked "What was the one big thing he wanted in life?" Samuel responded that the thing he wanted most was an education.

Henry Smith, Samuel Hammond and Delano Middleton each wanted to enjoy the unlimited potential offered in America in a time and place where skin color provided limited opportunity.

The killing of these three young men, the wounding of twenty eight others, and the imprisonment of Cleveland Sellers were calamities initially lost on a nation torn by a bloody Vietnam War and the rising discontent over civil rights. We were a nation divided by race, age and politics.

I said it eight years ago, and I will repeat it today. We deeply regret what happened here on the night of February 8th, 1968. The Orangeburg Massacre was a great tragedy for our state. And still today, the State of South Carolina bows its head, bends its knee and continues its journey for reconciliation.

Forty years ago, a group of students gathered around a bonfire on this campus after being denied their basic right to patronize a local business. And on that cold February night, that bonfire was extinguished, along with the lives of three brave young men.

But that bonfire still glows brightly today. It glows through people like Cleveland Sellers, who was a leader in the civil rights movement in the 1960s, later to become an acclaimed educator, public servant, and community leader. And today it is appropriate that Cleveland and Gwen Sellers' son, Bakari, is now a rising star in South Carolina politics. He holds a seat in that same South Carolina legislature that fought his father's call for change.

It glows in the theme of this 40^th commemoration, "Truth and Reconciliation." It is a wise and generous gesture, which promotes honoring those who were injured or lost their lives, yet focusing on how we all can work together to promote fairness, justice and opportunity.

It glows in the generous words and wisdom of Orangeburg Mayor Paul Miller, whose presence and participation provide testimony of the healing that has occurred in this city. From pain, tragedy and anger, can blossom pride, redemption and brotherhood.

It glows in this beautiful campus. Forty years ago, the television cameras were transfixed on violence, destruction and hopelessness. Last year, those same cameras came to Orangeburg to cover the hope of a new day symbolized by our nation's first presidential debates of the 2008 election season.

It glows in the presence of an African American candidate for president, which symbolizes that the ultimate prize of American citizenship can indeed be available to us all.

It glows in the presence of young South Carolina State students who dream to become doctors, lawyer, teachers, engineers…students who set their expectations high, and have every reason to believe they can achieve their goals.

Indeed, the bonfire that was lit in the late 1960s changed South Carolina, the South, and America for the better.

That's not to say that the battle for equality of opportunity has been won. Too many of our children receive a substandard public education. Too many people live with inadequate health care. And for too many of our fellow citizens, the American Dream is beyond reach.

But I remain encouraged. The bonfire has been reignited on the SC State campus today, with record student involvement in presidential campaigns, a growing interest in the future of our state and country, and a stronger sense of social justice. The children and grandchildren of the 1960s have learned their lessons well, and are launching a new era of activism to right the wrongs in our state and country.

The bonfire burns on.