Kent State Memories

In May 1970 I was 15 years old and a junior at the Bronx High School of Science. I opposed the Vietnam War and went to demonstrations with my friends Janet and Susan on a regular basis.

When we heard about the shootings at Kent State the students exploded. I remember kids jumping out the first floor windows (just a few feet off the ground) at Science to leave school and go to the demonstrations. We all felt the bullets weren't just aimed at the 4 dead and 9 injured, but they were aimed at all of us. Everyone who opposed the war, everyone who wore a peace button, long hair, bell bottom jeans, we were all the target.

A demonstration was called in front of the Army-Navy recruiting station at Fordham Road and the Grand Concourse in the Bronx. Susan and I marched there with the other kids and we set up a picket line, circling the traffic island in front of the recruiting station. After a while we got hungry and left our school books on the traffic island while we went to a nearby park to eat lunch. In those days you could do that without worrying that someone would steal your stuff!

When we got back, we were stopped by members of the Tactical Police Force, the riot squad, or as we knew them, the boys in the baby blue helmets. Today's riot squads wear black helmets and are practically encased in armor. Baby blue helmets were prettier but we still knew these men were not your friendly neighborhood cops.

They refused to let us back into the demonstration. We told them we just wanted to get our books back. "Then you should have gone to school today," one of them sneered. Finally they agreed to let Susan retrieve all our books but kept me as a hostage to ensure that she didn't rejoin the picket line. This was, of course, a violation of our rights, but we were in no position to argue. There were no legal observers, just high school kids marching in a circle and chanting. The TPF could have done anything they wanted. As I stood there waiting for Susan to come back with my books, one TPF turned to another and remarked, "Think we'll get to crack any heads today?"

I was terrified, praying for Susan to come back quickly! When she did get back, we knew it was useless to try to get back into the march, so we went home.

I wouldn't be surprised if those boys in baby blue helmets were the daddies of some of the most abusive cops attacking Occupiers today.