"Tin soldiers and Nixon coming ... Four dead in Ohio"
-- From "Ohio" (1970) by Neil Young
April 30, 1970: President Richard Nixon announced on television that he had authorized the invasion of Cambodia. This border-crossing escalation outraged many in the anti-war movement.
May 4, 1970: During an anti-war demonstration on the Kent State campus, elements of the Ohio National Guard shot four students to death. Those victims were: Allison Krause, Jeffrey Miller, Sandra Scheuer and William Schroeder. Nine others were injured.
May 9, 1970: Two friends rode with me from Richmond to Washington D.C. in my 1956 baby blue Cadillac. We made that 100-mile trip to see firsthand what sort of protest would erupt in reaction to the sudden specter of a college campus becoming a war zone. Other than that I don't think we had a clear plan. The photos accompanying the text of this piece were taken with my then-new Ricoh 35mm single lens reflex.
*
As the crowd was being funneled into the grassy ellipse south of the White House, the designated demonstration area, the morning’s temperature had already surged into the 90s. The clinging heat added to the growing sense in the air that anything could happen. Anything?
The White House grounds and Lafayette Park were surrounded by D.C. Transit System buses, parked snugly end-to-end. Looking through the bus windows I could see that inside the bus wall perimeter, every few yards, there was a cop in riot gear stationed -- standing ready to deal with anyone who dared to climb across the wall of buses.
Estimates ranged widely but most reports characterized the size of the crowd at well over 100,000. In those days crowd-estimators frequently let their politics color their numbers, so partisans generally seemed to pick the number that suited them.
Home-made signs were everywhere, including a sprinkling of placards that
denounced the mostly-young throng of war protesters. Before the program of
speakers and singers began, the smell of burning marijuana was already lending its distinctive fragrance to the atmosphere, giving the politically-driven gathering the feel of an outdoor rock ‘n’ roll festival. So it's worth noting that this was nearly nine months after the legendary Woodstock Music and Art Fair.
Unlike most of the large anti-war demonstrations of that era, which were planned well in advance, this time it all seemed to fall together rather spontaneously. From what I could tell from conversations, it appeared a good many in the crowd had never before marched in protest or support of war, or anything else. Nonetheless, this time, for whatever reasons, they had heard the call to head for Washington, D.C. — to live in the moment.
Unlike most of the large anti-war demonstrations of that era, which were planned well in advance, this time it all seemed to fall together rather spontaneously. From what I could tell from conversations, it appeared a good many in the crowd had never before marched in protest or support of war, or anything else. Nonetheless, this time, for whatever reasons, they had heard the call to head for Washington, D.C. — to live in the moment.
*
As
a convoy of olive drab military vehicles drove into the park area many
in the crowd booed. When it turned out the uniformed troops were
bringing in bottled water for the thirsty, the booing gradually subsided.
Dehydration was a problem that cloudless day.
After
the last speaker’s presentation, thousands of attendees marched out of the park area into the streets. There was talk of stretching a line of humanity all the way around the line of buses. Whether he liked it, or not, the commander-in-chief, reportedly inside the White House, would surely hear the crowd’s anti-war chants.
The demonstration flowed north, then west, from one block to the next. Long lenses peered down from the tops of those distinctively squat D.C. buildings. Fully-equipped-for-battle soldiers could be seen in doorways, awaiting further orders. With the tragedy at Kent State fresh in their minds, many of them must have been afraid they might be ordered to fire upon their fellow Americans.
Hippies who had been wading in a fountain to cool off scaled a statue to get a better look. A few minutes later a cheer went up. A determined kid had managed to get on top of a bus to wave a Viet Cong flag triumphantly. But it didn't last long.
The demonstration flowed north, then west, from one block to the next. Long lenses peered down from the tops of those distinctively squat D.C. buildings. Fully-equipped-for-battle soldiers could be seen in doorways, awaiting further orders. With the tragedy at Kent State fresh in their minds, many of them must have been afraid they might be ordered to fire upon their fellow Americans.
Hippies who had been wading in a fountain to cool off scaled a statue to get a better look. A few minutes later a cheer went up. A determined kid had managed to get on top of a bus to wave a Viet Cong flag triumphantly. But it didn't last long.
When the cops hauled the flag-waver off a commotion ensued. Soon the scent of tear gas spiced the air, which kept the protesters moving...
*
May 10, 1970: The
next day in Richmond I was in Monroe Park for yet another well-attended event. It was Mother's Day and what was called "Cool-Aid Sunday" featured live music, information booths and displays that were set up by various organizations. They included the Fan Free
Clinic, Jewish Family Services, Rubicon (a dry-out clinic for
drug-abusers), the local Voter Registrar’s office and Planned Parenthood.
Although it was not a political rally to protest anything, the crowd assembled in Monroe Park -- while much smaller -- was similar to the one the day before in its overall look. As I remember it, other than some heat related dizzy spells, I don't think there were reports about anyone being killed or seriously injured at Saturday’s anti-war demonstration in D.C.
Then, a 17-year-old boy was killed on Sunday in the park in
Richmond, when a four-tier cast iron fountain he had scaled suddenly
toppled.
The news photograph of Wilmer Curtis Donivan
Jr. falling to his death
that ran on the front page of the Richmond Times-Dispatch on the next morning, May 11, 1970, is one I’ll never forget.
No doubt, the convergence of strong feelings from the extraordinary week that had preceded Cool-Aid Sunday had helped to set the happening scene. Shortly before Donivan fell, I remember seeing him on the fountain, seemingly caught up in much the same spirit as the hippies climbing on statues in a fountain in D.C. the day before.
Without that week’s revved up anti-establishment momentum, Donivan may not have felt quite so moved to show off his conquest of that old fountain. Witnesses said he was rocking it back and forth, just before it crumbled.
No doubt, the convergence of strong feelings from the extraordinary week that had preceded Cool-Aid Sunday had helped to set the happening scene. Shortly before Donivan fell, I remember seeing him on the fountain, seemingly caught up in much the same spirit as the hippies climbing on statues in a fountain in D.C. the day before.
Without that week’s revved up anti-establishment momentum, Donivan may not have felt quite so moved to show off his conquest of that old fountain. Witnesses said he was rocking it back and forth, just before it crumbled.
*
That day's pleasant animating tone ended abruptly with a visit from the Grim Reaper. If Donivan's luck had been different on May 10, 1970, he might be 68 now.
In
the days that followed those random deaths on Kent State's campus and the one in Monroe Park -- along generational and cultural lines -- Americans became even more bitterly divided over the Department of Defense's unclear war policy in what was then called "Indochina."
Every night on the televised network news, reports of the updated death counts were presented. The latest totals, representing the unlucky, appeared next to little flags on the screen. That rather matter-of-fact style of presentation looked something like the score of a ball game.
*
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| The fountain (without water) in Monroe Park on May 9, 2021 |
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-- Words and photos by F.T. Rea
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