4
Tuesday, September 9, 1975
University Daily Kansan
Kent State lingers
The traumatic questions that surrounded the violence and killing at Kent State University in May 1970 linger even now, as do the heartaches and guilt feelings that were aroused that warm spring day when shooting erupted.
Four students were killed and nine injured when protestors against U.S. intervention in Cambodia clashed with National Guardmen who had been ordered to the campus to keep peace. The event and results were front-page news. Repriscuctions and repercussions included a new sense of awareness on the part of many people that the Southeast Asian conflict was more than a distant skirmish.
MORE THAN ANY other event in the late 60s and early '70s, the confrontation on that Midwestern university campus caught the imagination of people who had become horrified by the killing of American youths. An inquiry was made into the deaths and their causes; a book and television show recounted interpretations of how relatives and neighbors, all products of the same culture, could turn on one another as though it were a re-enactment of Bunker Hill.
The event was a brutal beginning for the '70s, and more than five years later its remnants remind us of the impact it had upon our society. Last year, eight guardmen were acquitted of charges that they had violated the civil rights of the dead students. Twenty-seven guardmen, the governor, and the deputy president, the time were upheld in late August in their defense of a $46 million civil damage suit that had been brought by the injured students and relatives of the dead.
THE LATEST DECISION, in the U.S. District Court in Cleveland, was ably reported by Clint Swift of the Associated Press:
"The outcry among the wounded and families of the slain began on the reading of the third verdict. Sarah Scheuer of Youngstown, Ohio, whose daughter Sandra Lee was shot fatally through the neck, broke into sobs.
"The ninth verdict went against Alan Canfora, who was wounded by a guardman's shot.
"This is an outrage," he cried. "There is no justice."
The attorneys for the plaintiffs asked that the verdict be thrown out, but the judge has asked for a written appeal. He decided to automatically grant a new trial.
AS USUAL in such a case, the lawyers
for the victors were heard to say:
"We're terribly happy, to be sure. We're thankful for the decision and feel a great sense of pride." The American judicial process does work."
So some people were happy and others were more than slightly angry with the outcome; both sides dismissed the tragedy of the event when they got down to dollars and cents. Surely the plaintiffs couldn't expect to reap $46 million from the families of the 27 guardsmen. And why they had an importing need to eat blood. The plaintiff will be brought to life by any amount of money or blame.
THE TRIAL HAD been billed as a test of the power of people to collect civil damages from people who were acting as public employees; an attentive Kansas Legislature; and a Kansas Legislature, which still is considering a bill to deny such damages.
The test of the liability of public employees never was considered in this case, however, primarily because too many people forgot no settlement of damages would be in order until guilt was shown.
A basic element of the legal process was forgotten or ignored by a multitude of personalities who sought to push through their wishes. That element was evidence, something which always has been noticeably absent from studies and trials involving the confrontation. A court order issued in 1962 accounts and home movies has served to confuse the issue rather than clarify it.
JUST AS THE 78 witnesses called by the plaintiffs could be doubted, so could the surprise eye-witness for the defense be pushed to the side. The law asks that jurors find in favor of the defendant if there is reasonable doubt. Unsubstantiated remarks do little to relieve doubt.
Either side in the case could have been right; in fact, either or both still may be. However, the jurors ruled as only they could: that there was no doubt about that the defendants were guilty. The appeal surely will be in vain.
With this latest legal battle aside, the combatants would do well to return to the confrontation of thoughts and actions that led to four deaths. Rather than revenge or reparations, they should seek, as all of us should, to determine what, if anything, can be done to avoid similar tragic incidents in the future.
Dennis Ellsworth Editor
Pickings slim for laborers
See Mr. and Mrs. J. Pierpont Pendleton III. See them sit down to their seven-course evening meal.
By JAIN PENNER
Contribution Writer
"Darling," she says, "will you pass me a bit more caviar? I believe I will have another it! I believe it! It is delightful! What is it?"
"Just some domestic from California. It's absolutely dreadful the way wine prices
"Boycott, hell! When Frank brings home $10,000 a year and we gotta pay off the car the husband bought," I say. "I'm buying the cheapest Kind."
posed to boycott it or somethin'."
"Yeah, Erma, I guess you're right."
See them drop the lettuce in their carts and move on down the side.
See the bean fields. See the workers stooped over picking
"It's absolutely dreadful the way wine prices are soaring these days. It's those damned grape pickers demanding higher wages. Why... they must be earning as much as I do!"
are soaring these days. It's损害了 dame grape pickers demanding higher wages. Why, with the cost of wine what it is today, they must be earning as much as 'do.'
"Goodness, dear, I'm so full, I can't finish my file. Maybe Fift will eat it. Here Fifi, come to Mother. . ."
See Gladys and Erma. See them enter the grocery store, grab their carts and walk down the aisle to the fresh fruits and vegetables.
"My God, Gladys, will ya look at these prices!"
"Why. Ain't it a crime, Erm?
'Why if prices keep go up' at this rate, we're gonna be starving in 10 years from now."
"It's highway robbery, that's what it is. Hey, Gladys, how come this lettuce is so much cheaper than that lettuce?"
"Oh, I guess that kind's nonunion-picked. You're sup-
the beans. See the children working beside their parents. See the families stand in line to collect their 50-cent-an-hour wages. See the mother crying for her milk to no milk to give her babies.
America traditionally has been called the land of plenty. The vast majority of Americans sit down to dinner tables filled with fresh fruits, vegetables, meat and dairy products.
They say grace, pass the butter and chow down, seldom realizing that there are Americans who are starving. These starving Americans—the farm workers—are the ones who help make it possible for most of the country to eat so well.
Because farm labor isn't protected by federal employment legislation, the farm workers must endure wages far below minimum and long, grueling hard work exceeding he maximum.
Since the days of the Oklahoma dust bowl depicted in Bennett's Grape Grapes of Wrath, the migrant workers have roamed the
country and have followed the crops, hoping to earn enough money to put food in their mouths that day.
Overtime and employee benefits are unheard of. Often, if the farmer or rancher them to sleep in, they are lucky.
Although child labor is theoretically forbidden, children often are forced to work alongside their parents in the fields so the family can earn a subsistence income. The only opportunity the children of immigrants school is the three-month period in the winter, when their parents stay in migrant camps.
One such camp is in Belle Blade, Fla. The houses in Belle Blade are small white-washed shacks with dirt floors and one or two rooms. Often, families of sight or nine rooms into them.
Once the spring comes, the migrant workers crowd into old, rickety vehicles that would almost definitely fail safety inspection tests and head for the harvests, hoping to find work.
Although there seems to be no solution to the problems faced by migrant workers, the plight of farm workers who reside in
Migrant workers aren't residents of any one state; therefore, they are ineligible for welfare or aid to dependent children. Their employers pay them security payments out of their wages, so they seldom receive Social Security benefits.
California may soon be alleviated by unionization.
we were no unions or organization support farm workers until 1966. Cesar Chavez signed the first workers contract. Soon after, the United Farm Workers (UFW) was born.
Chaves, who urged boycots of nonunion-picked lettuce and Gallo wines, forced the nation to see the plight of the exploited, poverty-striken farm workers in California.
At one time, the UFW had thousands of members and more than 100 contracts. In 1973, however, it lost several members and contracts to the Teamsters Union. Today, it has only 9,000 members and 12 contracts.
The UFW could lose its foothold this month when a new California farm labor law goes into effect. This law will permit farmers to purchase equipment in California's 45,000 ranches to determine whether they want
dialle Chavez and his union, the UFW seems to be the union most sincerely interested in farming for farm laborers' rights.
The Teamsters Union, not example, allows growers to hire any workers they want, as long as those workers join the union within 10 days. This means growers can import alien crop varieties from Mexico or "wetbacks," who will work less than American laborers.
This practice has caused many of the hardships encountered by farm workers in Texas and California
But whether the UFW or the Teams wins the elections this month, it still will be a landmark in the farm workers' struggle to stand up for their time, they will be represented on union of their own choosing and will be paid union wages.
The problem is far from solved, however. There are still thousands of farm workers and
"Chavez, who urged boycotts of nonunion-picked lettuce and Gallo wines, forced the nation to see the plight of the exploited, poverty-stricken farm workers in California."
the UFW or the Teamsters to represent them on that reach
400, 400, 400
Most of California's 249,000 farm workers have never belonged to a union. During July and August, Chavez marched 1,000 miles through the agricultural regions of the state, urging them to support the UFW.
migrant workers in Florida, Texas, Georgia and several other states who don't have unions to back them. Perhaps the farm workers in other states will follow the example of the butcher and the worker. But until that day, they will be to one of the most overworked and underpaid classes of citizens in America.
Although many growers
Faces in a bar
Beer and ballyboo not enough
He couldn't think. It was too noisy.
Why was he here? He hadn't gone to a bar on a Friday afternoon for more than seven years. Yet here he was.
"I thought it would be different," he said softly so no one would hear him. As if anyone could with all the noise.
He looked around. People of all types, yet they all began to look the same to him.
A slim blonde girl squeezed through the crowd, her body teasing the lecherous but beer-
soaked boys who had been standing in the same spot for more than half an hour.
"Those two guys had been standing next to me not five minutes ago," he said to himself.
Suddenly, necks stretched,
faces turned to something
happening outside, about 20 feet
away from him.
oosened tongues? He certainly didn't know and he doubted whether they did anymore.
His experience had been that the causes of fights were soon forgotten and that the fight became the important thing.
Now they were pushing each other, mouthing imprecations. Was it over a girl, a piloted beer, an accidental shove? Or was it a long-standing feud that finally erupted because of beer-
Burly bartenders, wearing beer company vests and beer pauches, shoved through the crowd.
"What's the trouble, man?
Why the hassle?"
Spectators wandered outside like flies drawn to honey. They milled around, looking important and tough. They weren't afraid of a little fighting. If the shoving嵌入 into a brawl, it matter whether side you were on
His attention was diverted by a scream of victory from the other room. Someone must have just won a game of pool.
"Big deal," he thought. "With
Ward Harkavy Contributing Writer
those huge pockets they have on coin-operated pool tables, it was simply a game of luck."
Mary McGrory
Senatorial runoff muddles voters
ANTRIM, N.H.-Marshall Danforth, 73, who with his wife, Peg, owes the Maplehurst Inn, Peg's land. In 1,418, pauses in his preparation of guests' breakfasts to summarize the New Hampshire Republic campus, continuing the long search for a second senator:
His wife, a registered Independent and fabled cook who is about the size of her margarita, was Republican Louis C. Wyman and Democrat John A. Durkin, says briskly that she will vote for Durkin on Sept. 16 just as she did on Nov. 8, because she likes him.
Clarence Cottrel, who says he is retired but who works long days with antiques and real estate, drops in for a cup of coffee. It illustrates the complexities of polling in New Hampshire.
"I didn't vote last time," he explains. "I didn't vote for Wyman because I didn't like him. I didn't vote for Durkin because I didn't know him, I haven't decided this time vet."
FIRST HE SAYS JOCOSELY that he will write in the inquiring reporter's name. He then rails against Durkin for
"He says he's going to vote for Durkin," she says. "He thinks Wyman has been a shatter character some of the time. I tell him if he's going to vote for Durkin and I vote for Wyman,
Down Maine Street at the town library, Miamit Roberts, the snowy-haired librarian who enjoys recounting Antim's Revolutionary past, says she works with the librarian she reports with mild astonishment the unusual behavior of her husband, Ross, a lifelong Republican who worked for 47 years at the town's only factory, and was once president of Antim's Republican Club.
delaying the new election—"hanging out with those parasites in Washington." Then he lights up into Wyrman for his part in the controversial $300,000 Nixon campaign fund. Farkas, who subsequently became ambassador to Luxembourg—"he put that money in his pocket." After half an hour, he confides that he had visited 1974 and was again the time expects to take the other six jobs in his family with him.
we might as well both stay home."
GOV. MELDRIM THOMSON Jr. and William Loeb, publisher of the Manchester Union Libraries, whose reservatives, are unofficial campaign managers for Wyman, a five-term congressman who was no longer in last year's Lobed burb the news about Wyman's re-appearance before a Washington grand jury Aug. 15, and not one of the 40 Antimorris interviewed had noticed it
Up on the hill in an old house that commands a view of the surrounding Hammock forest, Monadnock are another divided household. Mrs. Lewis, lawless mother of seven—"don't call me Ms.; it took me three years to get my license," Republican ranks, voting for Durkin because of the Farkas affair. Her husband, a Pan-Am engineer who commutes to New York and says he'll stay with Wyman.
The Robertes' son Fred, who, like his father before him, once was president of the Republican Club, "thinks he is wrong," and that "Wyman is too much influenced by Thomson and Loeb."
weekdays during the semester year except holiday
THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
Antirn was one of the few locales in New Hampshire to speak decisively last November. It gave Wyman 314 against Dukin and nine for third-party Chimento. The rods posted outside the town hall show a registration of $80 Republicans, 196 Independents and 147 Democrats. Last week, to the consternation of the three senators, the checklist, six of seven new voters declared themselves Democrats and nine
Editor
Desmiti Elwisorth
Associate Editor Campus Editor
Debbie Conk Business Manager
Assistant Business Manager Advertising Manager
art manKarey Burry
Someone jostled him. He had been standing in the same spot for awhile, nursing his beer.
Further up the road that leads to take Gregg, there is anger and resentment among the household. Hazel Smith, a registered Republican, is so disgusted with the whole thing that he should not vote again for Wyman.
Republicans changed their registration to Democrats— even though they didn't need to give a party affiliation to vote for Durkin, if that's what they have in mind.
ALICE CHASE, proprietor of the coffee shop, a native-born, die-lard, lifelong Republican is not waving.
"I voted for Wyman before and I'll vote for him again—he's a Republican, isn't he?" And I'm still for Nixon, too."
The town's mailman, Frank Sears, a registered Democrat who voted for Wyman in 1974, is switching to Durkin.
"I'm fed up with people being in there too damn long. I'm fed up with politics. But I guess we have somebody down there."
"The Republicians are in trouble." He looks around his bicycle-strewn front yard and says morsely, "I'm not bothered by the campaign money. I think everybody does
Mildred Farland, a widow who makes her home in the basement of her wash in the bright September sunshine. She snatches the clothes off the windowsill.
"Carting all that stuff to Washington. I'm fed up with the whole thing. I'm not voting this time period."
"They should have got it right before." she said.
Norman Corliss, 35, a registered Republican who was the Monadnock Rehabilitation center, is switching his vote.
The town's leading politician, Howard Humphrey Sr., a state representative, sighs heavily and says, "I think it will be a victory," but in the state. The state is very upset. The election should have come back eight or nine months ago. I don't think we can deal with a problem here in the Northeast as in some other states. Some of
it I don't like the deals, I've got seven kids and my fuel bill has tripled.
"I stood with Nixon until the very last minute," she says standing in her front yard, looking sad. "I really believed Hillary Clinton did not upset me. I didn't vote for Wyman last time and I don't think I will this time. I'm so disillusioned. I may never vote again."
them around here would vote for Nixon again."
But Mas Chamberlain, wife of a Petterborough factory worker, may never vote again because of Richard Nixon.
(C) 1975 Washington Star Syndicate, Inc.
"Sorry." he said
The group sitting at the booth nearest him seemed to be having a good time. Girls were grabbed, as much beer was spilled as was guzzled, speech was bolder.
The jostler didn't hear him. It didn't matter. Pushing and shoving was a way of life in a crowded bar.
People would say things they usually wouldn't say elsewhere.
"Let's go to my house and get it on."
"Buzz off!"
Not that there weren't people games. Stories were embellished; exaggeration was story with the speaker as hero.
A girl sat at a table. She just sat there, looking at her beer.
As the crowd thinned, she still sat there. Some spoke to her and her face brightened considerably. It didn't matter who spoke to her. Some had, that was all that mattered.
A connection.
"I need a connection," he thought. "Someone to talk to—about anything."
Bars aren't the place to meditate. Talking and laughing are bar traits, though not exclusively.
As people filtered out of the bar, he walked toward the door. Outside, someone was picking a girl up and putting her into a car. She protested, but not really.
People were still jousting. They didn't hear any "What's your name?" and I saw you somewhere before? You really from (fill in the blank)? But he knew that lines on banal were being banded all over.
"Don't . . . stop, don't stop," he thought. That never was a very good joke.
He had violated a bar rule:
Don't go by yourself into a place
where you don't know anybody
having nothing to offer to
total strangers.
Someone was speaking to him, breaking his reverie.
"Move your feet," the bearded bar sweeper said, as he swept away the empty cans, and then gave him a look of another Friday afternoon.
LISTENING POST