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In the early weeks of 1960, F.W. Woolworth store in downtown Greensboro didn't look like a battlefield.

Outside the five-and-dime on South Elm Street was the bustle of a city whose heart pulse still was its downtown, with orange Duke Power buses coming and going to an endless theme song of hissing air brakes and droning Diesel engines.

But as you entered the plate-glass front doors, the aroma of freshly made popcorn filled the air. In the far left corner (which was all that mattered to young children at the time) were the toys, including colorful stacks of model airplanes, cars and ships that seemed to stretch to the ceiling, and whose tight plastic wrappers brightly reflected the humming florescent lights.

In the right, a sprawling lunch counter that snaked around the wall.

Buy, but don't sit

Anyone was welcome to spend as much as they liked in the venerable five-and-dime. But if you were "colored," you were denied the convenience -- and the dignity -- of buying a meal and actually being able to sit and eat it.

That all began to change, exactly 50 years ago this Monday, on Feb. 1, 1960, when Franklin E. McCain, Joseph A. McNeil, David L. Richmond and Jibreel Khazan (then Ezell Blair Jr.), all A&T College students, dared to sit there, and politely demanded to be served.

A dramatic war of wills had begun.

Commitment and resolve

Originally called a "sit-down" protest, their graceful act of defiance eventually enlisted the aid of hundreds of others and went on to ignite a national movement.

While it wasn't the first sit-in protest, it was easily the most significant, sparking similar protests across the country.

As for here, Woolworth eventually relented, officially desegregating its lunch counter on July 25, 1960.

How it all had come to pass is still remarkable in so many ways:

l How the first four, then more, then even more, had not only mustered the courage, but the discipline to weather the taunts and threats they received, and remain committed, over days, weeks and months, to nonviolence.

l How one of the Greensboro Four, McCain, wore his ROTC uniform to the protest, dramatizing the irony of being willing to serve this country abroad while not be able to be served a cup of coffee at home. (He didn't consciously dress that way, he says; he just happened to have ROTC classes that day.)

-- How women from Bennett College took up the cause as well, sitting down when A&T students got up.

-- How sympathetic white college students and Dudley High students also joined the movement.

-- And how, through it all, cooler heads prevailed, and a potential powder keg never exploded.

A museum, not a parking lot

As powerful as those memories remain, they have a home in brick and mortar now. In time to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the Greensboro sit-ins, the International Civil Rights Center & Museum officially opens Monday morning, on a national stage it richly deserves.

The old, freshly restored five-and-dime not only will honor the history of the sit-ins but the triumph and challenges of the struggle for human rights throughout the nation and the world.

County Commissioner Melvin "Skip" Alston and state Rep. Earl Jones conceived the idea and saved the building from wrecking crews -- and an afterlife as yet another downtown parking lot.

Progress and challenges

Of course, few victories come without a struggle. And this one has had its share: fits and starts in construction, fundraising woes, legions of skeptics, political skirmishes.

Making matters even worse, construction uncovered a small stream in the bowels of the old building, prompting more construction expenses and another delay.

But the sit-ins took time, too, and didn't accomplish their goal for six months. Patience and commitment have their virtues.

And now we have our museum.

It stands not only as a reminder of how far we've come (the election of a black woman as mayor in 2007; an African American city manager, police chief and school superintendent). And how far we still have to go (dialogue about race too often is strained and ineffective; some local public schools are nearly as segregated as they were in 1960).

In the end, of course, the history, the heroes and the ideals it honors remain the point, not the physical building.

But what a magnificent landmark that all of Greensboro should embrace.