They boarded buses, climbed into cars and rode the rails in the pre-dawn darkness to become a part of history.
Fifty years ago today, tens of thousands of New Yorkers stood in Washington's National Mall to hear Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s stirring "I Have a Dream" speech — and it forever changed their lives.
"When I listened to him, I felt trembles going down my spine," recalled retired sanitation worker Robert Walton, 88, of Far Rockaway.
"It touched me. I felt empowered. It made me feel like I was an American citizen. As long as I live I will never forget that day."
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'BLACK AND WHITE TOGETHER': Dr. Martin Luther King (center) leads the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom 50 years ago today.
Lewis Phillips, 85, of Harlem, was serving as an Army reservist in upstate Watertown when he learned about the March on Washington the night before and begged his captain to let him go.
"He said, 'You can take off,' so I took off. I had a Mercedes 190, and I shot down there and got to Washington at about 8 o'clock in the morning," he said.
It was so packed that "it took me about a half-hour to go a block's distance," Phillips added
"I was weaving around the crowd, trying to get as close as I could. Then I got an idea that I could climb up this tree . . . So I climbed the tree. No big deal.
"On people's faces, you could see hope that everything was going to be all right. And there was singing, and all that. A lot of people were crying. It was an emotional thing."
Harlem drugstore worker Elliot Ferebee belonged to Local 1199, whose members were excited to join the march and decided to go as a group, taking a five-hour ride on a stifling train from Penn Station.
And while Ferebee, now 90, was initially just looking forward to a day off from work, the enormity of the event hit him once he arrived.
But after four hours standing in the crowd under the blazing summer sun, Ferebee and several pals couldn't stand the heat any longer and pushed their way back to return to the railroad station.
Shortly after they settled into a train car, King's speech was broadcast over the loudspeakers.
"It wasn't just the heat of that day — his words made me melt inside," Ferebee said. "It was very emotional, even for a bunch of tough union men. We didn't cry though!" he said with a chuckle.
One group of activists from the Congress of Racial Equality in Brooklyn arrived in Washington after walking the entire way. Among them was Lawrence Cumberbatch, who, at 16, was the youngest.
"It took 13 days. It was an adventure really," said Cumberbatch, now a lawyer. "I went to Sammy's Army and Navy store and bought my quote-unquote walking shoes — these semi-construction boots that were worn out by the time I made it to Washington."
When the hikers — wearing sweat shirts hand-lettered with the words "Freedom Now" — got to the Washington Monument, "officials announced us and escorted us to the podium," Cumberbatch said.
"We were so amazed by seeing this massive, massive amount of people. . . None of us even really absorbed any of the speeches, we were so taken aback."
Former model Audrey Smaltz, who was working at Bloomingdale's, traveled in style after asking for two days off to attend the march.
Although her boss was "very afraid for me to go," he gave her $30 to fly round-trip on Eastern Airlines from La Guardia Airport to Washington, where she met her boyfriend, who was one of King's lawyers and got her a reserved seat.
After the speech, Smaltz attended a house party where "we ate and danced in the basement," then went to the Dupont Plaza hotel, where she ran into King in the lobby.
"He asked me what did I think of his speech, and I said I loved it," she said.
Retired Sarah Lawrence College professor Arnold Krupat recalled singing "We Shall Overcome" while in a parking lot across the Potomac River in Virginia.
"As we marched, I had my arms crossed over my chest, and both of my hands were clutching the hands of black people," said Krupat, 71, who is white. "I can't say if I was in tears or near tears, but I had never had that feeling, before or since."
As his bus left Virginia hours later, it was fired upon by a bunch of white men on an overpass.
"It was a reminder that there were people who weren't going to take our peaceful protest lightly," Krupat said. "There were people who didn't want to see us holding hands and singing."
Additional reporting by Frank Rosario and Lorena Mongelli
