Recollections of the 1969 Moratorium
by David H. Finke
My memory is
specifically of events in the Washington, DC, mass gathering jointly sponsored
by “The Moratorium” (which had started by observing one day per month away from
“Business as Usual” to protest the Vietnam War) and the National Mobilization
to End the War in Vietnam (“The Mobe,”) with which our national office of
American Friends Service Committee had been affiliated. Some of their steering
committee meetings had been held in the Chicago area.
I was at that time
the Peace Education Secretary (“Program Secretary for Peace/War Issues”) in the
Chicago regional office of AFSC (1967-73.)
In that capacity our program and staff gave encouragement to a number of
expressions of nonviolent witness and resistance to the war and the warmaking
apparatus of the federal government. One
of the ventures we helped get started (for which I served as treasurer) was the
“Nonviolent Training and Action Center,” for which Carl Zietlow (formerly AFSC
College Program secretary) had been a staff person, also supported by
Fellowship of Reconciliation. We had a
volunteer core of a dozen or so activists, mostly young but some going back to
conscientious objection in the Second World War and Korea. A modest office space was provided by a
Quaker Meeting on Chicago’s South Side, “57th Street Meeting of Friends.”
When it became clear
that a large action was going to come about in Washington in November, our
NVTAC group agreed to mobilize and share the experience we had acquired in the
theory and practice of “Satyagraha” -- Gandhi’s word for active nonviolent
resistance to social evils. (That was also the title of a publication we
produced.) Previously, we had worked
with some of the original activists from India who were disciples of Gandhi’s
and veterans of his struggle for independence and opposition to the caste
system: an economic as well as political set of programs.
Members of our group for some time had provided training and
personpower for “marshals” at public demonstrations, and many had participated
in the direct action of the “Chicago Freedom Movement” a few years before,
headed up by Dr. Martin Luther King. We
also had study groups and social occasions: a trusting group of comrades who
did our best to keep Chicago’s part of the Civil Rights and AntiWar movement
nonviolent, focussed on the goals of Justice and Peace against which violence
would be counterproductive and a distraction that “the establishment” could use
to discredit us.
Many of us had also come to know each other and work
together leading up to and during the demonstrations in Chicago at the
Democratic National Convention in 1968.
We in AFSC had pulled together a “Nonviolent Caucus” with
representatives of several national pacifist organizations, and became skilled
in logistics for large-scale actions in coalition with like-minded groups.
Our national AFSC Peace Education Secretary Stewart Meacham
had persuaded the steering committee of The Mobe to sponsor a dramatic
several-day program of something he had helped pioneer at the local level in
the Philadelphia area: reading the names of the dead American GIs who were
victims of the war in Vietnam. Whereas
those actions had been at local draft boards, Stewart envisioned a “March
Against Death” in Washington, leading up to the large rally at the Washington
Monument on a November Saturday afternoon.
We from Chicago’s NVTAC, in cooperation with some pacifist activists
from Philadelphia, took a major leadership role in this, which I’ll try to
narrate.
Several carloads of us from Chicago converged on DC early in
the week, staying at a downtown Washington church which also served as the
meetingplace for the Mobe steering committee.
We prepared for the arrival of scores of busses from around the country
who were directed to take their demonstrator-passengers to a parking lot on the
Potomac River just across into Virginia at the Arlington Bridge. The routine was that as each bus arrived, one
of our team would greet the passengers and while aboard would give them an
orientation to the events of upcoming days and nights. The nonviolent discipline of the weekend’s
events was stressed, and the participants pledged to observe the dignity and
solemnity of what they were about to enter upon, honoring the leadership given
by the marshals.
Some weeks before, I had secured some thousands of blank
placards, which were shirtboards donated through the Chicago Peace Council by a
local laundry. Crews of volunteers then
lettered on to each sign the name either of a dead American G.I. (from a list
that had been read into the Congressional Record and previously read at draft boards) or of a
Vietnamese village that had been destroyed in the war. One of these was given to each marcher to
carry as our procession wound away from the busses, across the Arlington
Bridge, around the Lincoln Memorial, and down Pennsylvania Avenue past the
White House. It was a silent, somber
“March Against Death,” and went on non-stop for at least a day and a night and
into the next day. (My own memory was of participating at night time; there may
or may not have been candles that the participants carried, of which I’m not
sure.)
As each marcher approached the fence outside Nixon's White
House, they would break the silence by shouting out the name of the dead person
or destroyed village whom they were representing with their sign. I hope that news archives have some footage
of this very moving portrayal of the human cost of war and the responsibility
of those who dragged the U.S. military into it and perpetuated it.
The procession then proceeded up Pennsylvania Avenue to the
U.S. Capitol building. There, at ground
level at the end of the Mall, were wooden caskets into which each placard would
then be placed. These were guarded by
Vietnam Vets Against the War. When the
March Against Death was concluded, the vets then carried these filled caskets
(at least half a dozen) at the head of a solemn line of march started mid-day
on Saturday, and going down the Mall toward the rally which was gathering at
the base of the Washington Monument.
I was not in the large crowd, which I recall being reported
as in the hundreds of thousands. Rather,
I and others of our marshal corp, wearing identifying Peace Armbands, deployed
along the sidewalks lining Constitution Avenue along which people were coming to
assemble at the Monument.
I have a vivid memory of my wife and myself helping direct
people, and having friendly chats with local D.C. police who also were deployed
along the street, on foot. But we could
see that something troublesome was developing some blocks away, down
Constitution Avenue closer to the Capitol.
“Students for a Democratic Society” (which by that point was
breaking into various factions, some of which were promoting revolutionary
violence) had called for a noisy, militant demonstration in front of the
Justice Department, protesting the prosecution of “The Chicago Seven”
[originally Eight] in the Conspiracy Trial some sessions of which I had
witnessed in Chicago at the federal building, a block from our AFSC
offices. We had information that some
(many?) of those responding to SDS’s call were prepared for a violent
confrontation, some actually spoiling for a fight in attempting to close down
the Justice Department. I recall hearing
that two different groups from Ann Arbor, Michigan — “The Mad Dogs” and “The
Motherf*ckers” — would be there, attired
with face masks, helmets, and equipped with sticks. We were grateful that the leadership of The
Mobe, while not made up primarily of pacifists, had structured the Moratorium/
Mobilization’s march and rally to exercise “the right of the people to
peaceably assemble for redress of grievance,” getting permits for our
activities, and had promulgated the tactical nonviolent discipline which we
were there to embody and enforce.
A dramatic scene was unfolding many blocks away, far down
the street. We could see clouds of tear gas being unleashed upon the Justice
Department demonstrators/combatants.
Most of the rally-goers were probably unaware of this, with their
attention focussed on the speakers at the Washington Monument. But we knew that things would become more
tense and volatile as those running from the teargas headed our way.
A sure sign of the change in tenor and demeanor was when the
local police, on command, all started putting on gas masks which they had
brought in bags. Our mission, at that time,
became to help the peaceful rally-attenders leave the grounds in an orderly
manner and get to the safety of their awaiting busses.
An indelible
recollection that my wife and I have is the sound of the cast of the musical
Hair, over a gigantic P.A. system,
singing their chorus, “Let the Sun Shine In”.... over and over and over
again. We later learned that the Chicago labor leader Sid Lens, from the Mobe
steering committee, had directed the cast to keep up the music in an attempt to
keep the rally participants together and not scatter into the melee of those
fleeing the violent demonstration at the Department of Justice.
A personal recollection which over the years I’ve enjoyed
sharing was, as I would dramatically recount, “When I negotiated a ceasefire
with the military.” As people, in some
confusion and desperation, were trying to leave the rally grounds with the
teargas getting closer, I approached an Army or National Guard jeep which had
the flag of its commander. (I’m uncertain of the rank, but he clearly was in
authority.) I approached the Captain or
Major or Colonel, introduced myself as a marshall in the civilian peacekeeping
corps, and asked his assistance in clearing a way for the innocent but seemingly
entrapped rally-goers to have safe passage to their busses some blocks
away. He agreed that would be a good
idea, and swung into action in creating a safe escape from the panicked
confusion. I wish I could hear accounts
from those who had that new-found official protection.
My next recollection was of finding our way to some of the
houses that were set up as post-rally rendezvous points. The location that we found had a large stack
of tear-gas soaked clothing and gear piled up outside, and a friendly welcome
within as people decompressed and got ready for their return rides to the
various towns and cities from which they had come.
It is, of course, difficult to realize that this was all a
half-century ago. Then again, I’ve had
the same sense of amazement last year when we were reliving and recounting our
activities at and around the Democratic Convention in Chicago… or the earlier
marches for Open Housing and other civil rights. My approaching 79th birthday, however,
validates that the calendar is indeed correct.
Thank you for your interest in all this, and congratulations
to all those who, at the grass roots, made these events happen with ordinary
people during extraordinary times.
—DHF 10/9/19
111 S. Professor St., Apt. B
Oberlin, Ohio 44074
573-673-7783
dhfinke@gmail.com
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