Yesterday was the anniversary of the Kent State University killings. Today is the anniversary of near-universal college and university explosions in protest. For those too young or ignorant of history, members of the Ohio National Guard were on the campus of Kent State University in Ohio, and while the details are still murky - were they attacked with bottles? Were they just over-nervous kids who, for whatever reasons, were issued live rounds? - opened fire, killing four people, including a student walking across campus minding his own business (the photo of a young woman crying over his dead body won the Pulitzer for photojournalism that year).
Among the campuses that shut down was my alma mater, Alfred University. I was given the poop by a history prof I had, Gary Ostrower. Apparently, then-Gov. Nelson Rockefeller had decided to preempt any attempt by students all over the state at trouble by sending in contingents of State Police armed with riot gear - whether at large schools like Cornell, or little tiny ones like Alfred. Now, it should be noted that Alfred was hardly a hotbed of radicalism, but this particular event triggered both rage and fear, a rage and fear compounded by Rockefeller's stupid decision. No one acquitted themselves well that day, but since the bulk of the power lay in the hands of police armed with shotguns and wearing helmets, I do believe there is a place we can at least glance at for responsibility.
One of the oldest buildings on our campus is Kanakadea Hall (named for the little creek that runs through town). It sits on the southern edge of the academic quad, and just to the southwest, there is a staircase that runs down to a little natural area with a walkway that runs to the street beyond. The campus was overrun by students, buildings were taken over, and a couple students were holed up in the attic of K. Hall. All they had to use against armed police were . . . water balloons. As a couple officers came up the stairs and crossed in front of the building, they opened fire.
Not smart.
Lucky for everyone involved, the cops were not nearly as tense or trigger happy as the young citizen-soldiers in Ohio, or it could have turned very ugly and very bad.
A year or so later, an investigation by Attorney General John Mitchell concluded that no one was to blame, the Guard units had acted properly, and the deaths were the unfortunate result of students behaving badly. Of course, Mitchell himself was behaving badly at this time, and ended up doing a little bit of time in the pokey for his own crimes. Hardly justice, but a little schadenfreude probably helped the ghosts of Kent State rest a little easier.
