Before he was a renown basketball coach, George Raveling was an All-American basketball player at Villanova University. And 45 years ago, he and teammate Warren Wilson -- at the urging of Wilson's father -- drove from Wilmington, Del., to D.C. for the March on Washington without a plan.
Wandering near the Lincoln Memorial, the two were approached by a man who must have been impressed by their size. He recruited them to work as volunteer security guards and the next morning they were assigned to the dias.
Raveling took his job seriously, but was starstruck as the likes of Bob Dylan, Odetta and Peter, Paul and Mary performed just yards away and Harry Belafonte and Sidney Poitier were milling nearby.
As the crowd swelled -- John Lewis called the official estimates of a quarter-million a serious understatement -- Martin Luther King emerged to deliver one of the most memorable speeches of all time.
The funny thing is that "I Have A Dream" was not part of his prepared notes, according to Raveling. And he should know because of what he did when Rev. King belted out, nearly in song, "Free at last, free at last. Thank God Almighty, we are free at last."
As MLK wiped the sweat from his brow and waved to the crowd, Raveling did something he didn't plan. "I was only about four people off to the side of King. I don't know what possessed me but I walked up to King and calmly asked, 'Can I have that copy?'"
Rev. King didn't hesitate, handing the Raveling the soon-to-be historical artifact.
Five years later, when the famed leader was cut down by an assassin's bullet at the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, news reports made reference to the 'I Have A Dream' speech and Raveling was thunderstruck with the memory that he had those original notes somewhere in a book. After rummaging through his belongings, he found them where he'd left them.
A few years ago, Raveling decided the notes -- which could have fetched him millions -- belonged in the Martin Luther King Museum in Atlanta, so he called to tell his story and donate the notes to the museum with a single caveat. He simply wanted the plaque to read, "Notes donated by George H. Raveling."
In a shocking turn, the museum representative was less than kind and rebuffed the offer. So 'The Dream' remains in a safety deposit box and its overseer, George Raveling, has the only key.