MONTGOMERY, Ala. -- The pilgrimage began at 8:20 a.m. at Detroit Metropolitan Airport on a chartered Southwest Airlines 737. The destination: Montgomery, Ala., and history.
"Mother Rosa Parks refused to get up, and the Statue of Liberty stood up," the Rev. Otis Moss Jr. of Cleveland told about 85 of Parks' friends, relatives and colleagues bringing her body back to where she helped launch the modern civil rights movement.
By 11 a.m., dozens of Boy Scouts, well-wishers and NAACP members packed Montgomery Regional Airport. They clicked cameras, held their breath and strained to view the dignitaries who transported Parks from the plane to a white hearse.
The three-city, five-day send-off to a giant of the 20th century was just getting started.
By the time six Montgomery police officers on motorcycles began a slow motorcade to St. Paul AME Church, where Parks' body would lie in repose, Jacqueline Johnson had already fielded about 120 phone calls.
"Lord, give me patience," sighed Johnson, of Phillips-Riley Funeral Home, which assisted Detroit's Swanson Funeral Home with arrangements.
"When I got in this morning at 8 a.m., I had 475 messages. It's just been wild and chaotic, but such an honoring experience."
After noon, the motorcade passed Parks' old home, Cleveland Court apartments. The exact route wasn't well publicized, and few people lined the streets.
"I heard the sirens and said, 'That's Rosa Parks! That's Rosa Parks!'" said Charles Washington Jr., 41. "But there ain't nobody out here but me and my friend, Floyd."
By 1:15 p.m., a crowd of more than 500 residents clutching signs reading "We Love You Rosa Parks" lined a parking lot. Livery driver Joe Alberti, 26, sat top a carriage wearing a gray top hat and trying not to speak, lest he rouse his two speckled gray mares, Jean and Jane.
Minutes later, the motorcade arrived. Dozens of yellow roses sat atop the hearse, as students from high school junior ROTC programs transported Parks' mahogany casket to the horse-drawn carriage.
Two men banged drums to begin the procession down a few blocks to the church. Hundreds followed. Myrtis Winston, 68, batted away tears as she clicked a camera.
"I just feel the pain. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Winston said, crying. "It's just ... words can't explain.
By 2:12 p.m., the crowd was at the church's door. NAACP President Bruce Gordon said some words. Parks' pastor in Detroit, Gloria J. Clark of St. Matthews AME, led a prayer. The crowd sang "We Shall Overcome."
The family was first to view Parks, who was dressed all in white. She wore a white bow, lace and a black cap with a white stripe worn by deaconesses of the African Methodist Episcopal Church.
"Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?" asked U.S. Court of Appeals Judge Damon Keith, a member of a committee that coordinated services in Montgomery, Washington, D.C., and Detroit.
"She's tranquil. She's loving. She's at peace. It's the most beautiful thing ever. She looks like an angel, which she was."
Linda Swanson, the daughter of funeral director O'Neill Swanson, led Johnnie Carr to see her lifelong friend. Carr, a 94-year-old legend in the civil rights community, paused for a few moments at the casket, then grabbed a rail.
She paused, wiped her eye and spoke a few quiet words.
Asked what she told Parks, Carr winked and smiled.
"That's a secret."