22-03-2010, 09:26 AM
The product description of Tarpley on Amazon is fascinating, as is your summation that Ayers-Dohrn et al served merely as agents provocateur.
We followed Rudd for the seven hours he recruited at Purdue as he spoke before groups ranging from about five thousand to a living room floor where I sat next to him and he told me his "Maoist friends" didn't like him talking to us, said we were police.
My friend with the 16mm Beaulieu and I were not police. We had been at the Nixon Counterinnaugural January 19, 1969 when Rudd and his Maoists (with their red armbands) banged the iron knocker of Justice as the shirtsleeved attorneys on the second floor gave them the finger.
October 8-11, 1969. We attempt to get to the park in our 1963 Econoline, my friend had cut a hatch in the roof from which to film, windows with mesh screwed on, what to expect--
Convoys of three Chevy sedans followed by a wagon; the wagon black, the Chevys blue or light blue or bronze or black or white, solid color, unmarked. Sirens and these convoys crisscrossing like chemtrails.
We arrive at the park, park in the lot, just as a raft of cars scream in and out bound a couple of dozen of young clean-cut men in windbreakers punching their hands together in anticipation of a little ultraviolence, undercover police here to beat up the hippies.
Who were burning police barricades, the broken white and black boards smoldering in the naked tree park, the October night, the huddled Army surplus bandana-faced audience to the barking megaphone.
Bang they run pursued by the windbreakers, past platoons of pigeon blue helmets and clusters of trenchcoated Dick Tracy's listening to milk carton walkie talkies.
We cannot catch them and return to the van and more delays as we must pull over for each and every of the many many convoys.
We pass the TACTICAL POLICE UNIT bus, an old metro bus with mesh windows, all black-painted and it disgorges the blackclad leatherboys of the tac squad their big sticks ready to beat.
We find the scene of damage and park and follow a glittering sidewalk of shattered plate glass past pickup trucks with utility bodies and headache racks full of plywood sheets, generators humming, saws whining, the 24-Hour Emergency Board-Up Service guys taking care of business.
Chicagoans exiting theaters step over glass and cords in wonderment.
In a restaurant we have a chance to tape some comments.
"What do you think of this?"
"What do I think! What do I think! I think they oughta be in JAIL! THAT'S what I think!"
And jail is where they wound up, church sanctuary to the contrary notwithstanding.
And the media coverage? What media coverage?
Did Rudd think this would lead to general revolution?
After all, in DC he had chanted Ho Ho Ho Chi Minh the NLF is gonna win--
Did Ayers think this was worth eliminating 25 million who would resist--like the people in the restaurant--
We followed Rudd for the seven hours he recruited at Purdue as he spoke before groups ranging from about five thousand to a living room floor where I sat next to him and he told me his "Maoist friends" didn't like him talking to us, said we were police.
My friend with the 16mm Beaulieu and I were not police. We had been at the Nixon Counterinnaugural January 19, 1969 when Rudd and his Maoists (with their red armbands) banged the iron knocker of Justice as the shirtsleeved attorneys on the second floor gave them the finger.
October 8-11, 1969. We attempt to get to the park in our 1963 Econoline, my friend had cut a hatch in the roof from which to film, windows with mesh screwed on, what to expect--
Convoys of three Chevy sedans followed by a wagon; the wagon black, the Chevys blue or light blue or bronze or black or white, solid color, unmarked. Sirens and these convoys crisscrossing like chemtrails.
We arrive at the park, park in the lot, just as a raft of cars scream in and out bound a couple of dozen of young clean-cut men in windbreakers punching their hands together in anticipation of a little ultraviolence, undercover police here to beat up the hippies.
Who were burning police barricades, the broken white and black boards smoldering in the naked tree park, the October night, the huddled Army surplus bandana-faced audience to the barking megaphone.
Bang they run pursued by the windbreakers, past platoons of pigeon blue helmets and clusters of trenchcoated Dick Tracy's listening to milk carton walkie talkies.
We cannot catch them and return to the van and more delays as we must pull over for each and every of the many many convoys.
We pass the TACTICAL POLICE UNIT bus, an old metro bus with mesh windows, all black-painted and it disgorges the blackclad leatherboys of the tac squad their big sticks ready to beat.
We find the scene of damage and park and follow a glittering sidewalk of shattered plate glass past pickup trucks with utility bodies and headache racks full of plywood sheets, generators humming, saws whining, the 24-Hour Emergency Board-Up Service guys taking care of business.
Chicagoans exiting theaters step over glass and cords in wonderment.
In a restaurant we have a chance to tape some comments.
"What do you think of this?"
"What do I think! What do I think! I think they oughta be in JAIL! THAT'S what I think!"
And jail is where they wound up, church sanctuary to the contrary notwithstanding.
And the media coverage? What media coverage?
Did Rudd think this would lead to general revolution?
After all, in DC he had chanted Ho Ho Ho Chi Minh the NLF is gonna win--
Did Ayers think this was worth eliminating 25 million who would resist--like the people in the restaurant--