Though the network was elegantly designed, there were not enough seats in the carpool to replace an entire city bus system. Thousands of black workers, including many who were elderly and some who were disabled, set out from home in the predawn darkness and walked miles each day. Some preferred to walk to show their support for the boycott rather than accept a ride even from the MIA carpool. One MIA driver told the story of having come upon an elderly woman hobbling along the road. “Jump in, grandmother,” he said to her, pushing open the door. She waved him on. “I’m not walking for myself,” she said. “I’m walking for my children and my grandchildren.”         The third month of the boycott and another day of walking   Family members made enormous sacrifices and sometimes hobbled home with barely enough energy to eat supper. And family chores like shopping had to continue. That meant more steps. The foot-weary warriors told their stories at the mass meetings, inspiring and encouraging one another to keep walking. Many were initially skeptical of the boycott. “When they first sent the leaflets saying ‘don’t ride the bus,’ I was worried about my momma,” remembers Alean Bowser. “I got angry, and I said they’d better not do anything to her. I thought she’d still go on riding the bus because she did housecleaning and she worked far away from home. But then they had worked out this whole plan of having people to drive and pick up. I got behind it. I and three other girls from my typing class at school started working at the Baptist Center, typing up and mimeographing lists of the people who were driving in the bus boycott. We had to make the list every third night in order to keep the information current. They had stations downtown. Who was driving this direction and that direction. I had to call the drivers and make sure they were still willing and available. And people in most families had walking jobs, too. I was appointed to walk downtown and pay our bills. But I could use the network for that, too.”         Boycott supporters climb out of one of the dozens of station wagons that were purchased during the 381-day protest. Many of the vehicles were assigned to churches         CLAUDETTE: When I got back to Montgomery, of course I stayed off the buses. Mostly I rode with my mom in a used Plymouth Dad bought for her. She needed it, because she worked way up out of town in a place the carpool didn’t go to.     Q. P. Colvin, Claudette’s dad, bought a car for the family during the boycott   Dad was very frugal. He saved enough to buy a TV set, too, so we could keep up with the boycott. We’d watch the news every night. The boycott was always the headline—it was the biggest story in the South. I also read Jo Ann Robinson’s editorials in a little newsletter that came every month. Why are the key people of the Montgomery Bus Boycott roles so important?(write in full sentences and include textual evidence).

Though the network was elegantly designed, there were not enough seats in the carpool to replace an entire city bus system. Thousands of black workers, including many who were elderly and some who were disabled, set out from home in the predawn darkness and walked miles each day. Some preferred to walk to show their support for the boycott rather than accept a ride even from the MIA carpool. One MIA driver told the story of having come upon an elderly woman hobbling along the road. “Jump in, grandmother,” he said to her, pushing open the door. She waved him on. “I’m not walking for myself,” she said. “I’m walking for my children and my grandchildren.”

The third month of the boycott and another day of walking

Family members made enormous sacrifices and sometimes hobbled home with barely enough energy to eat supper. And family chores like shopping had to continue. That meant more steps. The foot-weary warriors told their stories at the mass meetings, inspiring and encouraging one another to keep walking.

Many were initially skeptical of the boycott. “When they first sent the leaflets saying ‘don’t ride the bus,’ I was worried about my momma,” remembers Alean Bowser. “I got angry, and I said they’d better not do anything to her. I thought she’d still go on riding the bus because she did housecleaning and she worked far away from home. But then they had worked out this whole plan of having people to drive and pick up. I got behind it. I and three other girls from my typing class at school started working at the Baptist Center, typing up and mimeographing lists of the people who were driving in the bus boycott. We had to make the list every third night in order to keep the information current. They had stations downtown. Who was driving this direction and that direction. I had to call the drivers and make sure they were still willing and available. And people in most families had walking jobs, too. I was appointed to walk downtown and pay our bills. But I could use the network for that, too.”

Boycott supporters climb out of one of the dozens of station wagons that were purchased during the 381-day protest. Many of the vehicles were assigned to churches

CLAUDETTE: When I got back to Montgomery, of course I stayed off the buses. Mostly I rode with my mom in a used Plymouth Dad bought for her. She needed it, because she worked way up out of town in a place the carpool didn’t go to.

Q. P. Colvin, Claudette’s dad, bought a car for the family during the boycott

Dad was very frugal. He saved enough to buy a TV set, too, so we could keep up with the boycott. We’d watch the news every night. The boycott was always the headline—it was the biggest story in the South. I also read Jo Ann Robinson’s editorials in a little newsletter that came every month.