I really don't like "sixties" radicals. I knew some of them. Not the famous ones. But I knew some at fairly close range, and I found them stupidly scary. I got the sense, at the time, that they were unrealistically channeling their frustrations - and were willing to hurt people for the sake of the experience.
In 1972, at Columbia, when the radicals broke in the doors to Hamilton Hall, and broke into the Dean's office, I was right there. Yeah, I went right inside the building, observing.
I may not have quite fit in with the crowd. I remember a little neighborhood kid, wearing a crash helmet, asked me and my friend if we were narcs.
And I met a few of the people involved with the 1969 takeover at Cornell. I met them a bit afterwards, that summer.
The 1968 Democratic Convention riots were in my hometown. I skipped observing them because the police were busy smashing the heads of rioters and observers alike. They were nondiscriminatory that way. Still, I did talk to some of the protestors afterwards.
Which brings me to Bill Ayers:
I do not keep him in my prayers.
No, I've never met him.
But I think it's too bad that the Feds failed to get him.
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