Tuesday, May 4, 2021

Kent State Shook a Generation—A Murfin Memoir

John Filo's Pulitzer Prize-winning photograph of 14 year-old Florida runaway Mary Ann Vecchio kneeling over the body of Jeffrey Miller. 

Note—May 4th is one of those dates that stop us in our tracks when they roll around each year.  At least is does for an aging generation who were young and radical fifty-one years ago.  When the Ohio National Guard opened fire on campus anti-war protestors at Kent State University killing four and injuring several it was a shock of vulnerability for privileged White kids flirting with revolution.  Black students, although outraged, were not at all shocked by killings at Jackson State University in Mississippi days later. If you are a member of subsequent generations, the date may have no meaning for you at all—just another of the Boomer things.

Memoir stories like this are intended purely as the observations and reminiscence of a single participant.  I don’t exaggerate my importance.  I was a foot soldier in the movement in those days neither a leader nor central figure.  In this instance I stumbled upon an unusual role by happenstance and then faded back into the woodwork universally unnoticed.  The story here is just a hopefully interesting angle on a moment in history.  


                                                        My Own Private Kent State 

I must have been at my brother Tim’s (later known as Peter) apartment on Sheridan Road near the Morse Ave. Beach when we got the news of the shooting.  Oddly, unlike other Great Events, I can’t fix in my mind the moment I heard the news. 

Rather than hopping on the L to get to my own school, Columbia College, then a small communications college located on a few floors of a commercial building at Grand Ave. and the Inner Drive north of the Loop, my brother convinced me to go with him and his friends to his campus, Kendall College in Evanston.  Kendall was then a small, private two year college mostly drawing students from the northern suburbs.  Neither the school nor my brother was particularly politically active.  Tim was the center of acid dropping spirituality and the self-appointed guru to a circle of acolytes, many of them fellow students at Kendall.  He said he left the Revolution to me. When we arrived on campus, students were in full possession of the buildings and the administration was nowhere to be found, although some faculty was on hand mingling with the students.  There was no police presence; it was as though the administration had simply abandoned the school to the students. 

Students rallied on the Northwestern campus.  The night of May 4 they erupted onto Sheridan Road and erected barricades that stayed in place for days.  Some students from near-by Kendall College went over to join them.

Some folks had gone over to join Northwestern students at barricades erected on Sheridan Road.  Others milled about trying to figure out what to do.  One student was working a Ham Radio and gathering information from actions at campuses across the country.  We soon realized that this could become an asset.  

Phone connections were somehow made with students from campuses across the Chicago area and we fed them news gleaned from the Ham operator.  Not all of that information was reliable, some turned out to be wild rumor, but enough was good so that it became apparent that we were part of a spontaneous nationwide student uprising that was growing by the hour.  

Besides participating in the phone network, I started posting the news on large sheets of paper, updated regularly throughout the night to keep students informed.  I called them the Joe Hill Memorial Wall Posters and had about a dozen of them lining hallways by the time the night was over.  

There were also informal discussions all night.  I was considered a real live activist because of my connections with the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW) and my input was probably given more credence than I deserved.  By morning I had agreed to return to campus later and set up some educational programs, which I did do, although Kendall never became a hot bed of radicalism.

In the morning, running on adrenalin, I headed down to Columbia.  Columbia was a commuter school specializing in communications and the arts—broadcasting, photography, theater, dance, and writing.  With no one living on our non-existent campus, I was not sure what I would find.  There were no classes but it wasn’t exactly a strike either because the administration was totally supportive of the student cause and offered the facilities of the school free to the movement.  

I headed down to the print shop in the basement, where I worked as one of two printers.  We ginned up our little A.B. Dick 360 and Multilith 1250 offset presses and were soon turning out hundreds, even thousands of flyers, posters, handbills, and other material advertising actions across the city and region.  

This banner hanging from an occupied campus building somewhere in America summarized the mood of outrage and defiance that swept campuses.

I have no recollection of how, but I was selected as one of two representatives from Columbia to a city wide student strike committee.  I believe it was Wednesday when a couple of hundred folks met at the Riviera Theater in Uptown to plan coordinated actions.  

The meeting was a perfect example of sometimes chaotic participatory democracy, but a consensus was arrived at to have a unified, city wide march and demonstration downtown on Saturday.  I was named to the demonstration organizing committee with students from University of Illinois Circle Campus, University of Chicago, and Roosevelt, among other schools.  Many of the others members were in SDS.  Some were Trotskyites, who made something of a specialty of organizing big demonstrations.  There was a sprinkling of Anarchists as well.  But the ideological wars that wracked campuses were suspended—mostly—in the face of the common emergency.  Another meeting the following day was held at Circle Campus.

Again, I have no memory of how, but I was selected to try and negotiate with Chicago Police in what most felt was the vain hope of avoid an attack by authorities the day of the March.  Given the background of the Police Riots against demonstrators during the 1968 Democratic Convention, at protest marches connected to the trial of the Chicago 7, and the virtual street warfare around the Days of Rage in October ’69 there was little reason to hope for a better outcome.

Late Thursday afternoon I was escorted through an eerily quiet Police Headquarters to the office of Deputy Superintendent James Riordan.  I believe I may have been taken through a route intended to keep rank and file police from seeing that the brass was meeting “the enemy.” 

Riordan was cordial.  We shook hands.  We both clearly understood the potential volatility of the situation.  I told him that organizers intended an entirely peaceful march and pointed to some earlier mass marches that had gone off without a hitch.  I also pointed out that there had been no significant violence on any of the Chicago area campuses even at Northwestern with its barricades or the building occupations at other schools.  I said that we would have marshals to keep our demonstrators in line and moving and to discourage break away marches.  Although others were trying to obtain a parade permit, I said that we intended to exercise our free speech rights and march with or without one.  

 Riordan said he understood and said that the police did not want to provoke a confrontation and would be as “restrained as possible.”  I told him that we expected police would line the route of march, but that putting those officers in full riot gear or having them stand with batons conspicuously exposed might be provocative under the circumstances.  Riordan made no explicit promises but indicated that if we kept our people in line there would be a kind of truce.  I got the distinct impression that higher-ups had already decided to try to avoid more bad national press.

A peaceful Kent State student strike march much like the one in Chicago.

All during this period, although I was known to be a Wobbly, I was not acting in any way as a representative of the union.  I did inform the Chicago Branch of developments and the branch decided to participate in the march.  That Saturday rather than joining other “leaders”—and I use that term in the loosest possible manner—in the front of the march or joining with Columbia or Kendall college contingents, I marched as a rank-and-file member of the IWW behind our black and red banner.  Although riot equipped police were on hand, they were kept largely out of sight.  Officers lining the route wore standard blouses and soft caps.  Their batons were kept under their coats.  The march and rally went off without a serious hitch or any violence, which is more than can be said of marches in other cities.

Later, I reported on the events in the pages of the Industrial Worker.

 


Monday, May 3, 2021

On World Press Freedom Day Things are Getting Worse


The United Nations General Assembly declared May 3 World Press Freedom Day to raise awareness of the importance of freedom of the press and remind governments of their duty to respect and uphold the right to freedom of expression enshrined under Article 19 of the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights. It also marked the anniversary of the Windhoek Declaration, a statement of free press principles put together by newspaper journalists in Namibia thirty years ago in 1991.

African journalist participants in the 1991 Windhoek  conference.

The United Nations Educational, Scientific and Culcitural Organization (UNESCO) also marks World Press Freedom Day each year by bringing together media professionals, press freedom organizations, and UN agencies to assess the state of press freedom worldwide and discuss solutions for addressing challenges. Each conference is centered on a theme related to press freedom, including good governance, media coverage of terrorism, impunity, and the role of media in post-conflict countries.

This year the conference is being hosted by UNESCO and the Government of Namibia. April 29 through today back in Windhoek. The event is a physical and digital experience combining virtual and in-presence participation.  

The World Press Freedom Day theme is Information as a Public Good which “serves as a call to affirm the importance of cherishing information as a public good, and exploring what can be done in the production, distribution and reception of content to strengthen journalism, and to advance transparency and empowerment while leaving no one behind. The theme is of urgent relevance to all countries across the world. It recognizes the changing communications system that is impacting on our health, our human rights, democracies and sustainable development.”

To underline the importance of information within the online media environment, WPFD 2021 will highlight three key topics:

Steps to ensure the economic viability of news media

Mechanisms for ensuring transparency of Internet companies

Enhanced Media and Information Literacy (MIL) capacities that enable people to recognize and value, as well as defend and demand, journalism as a vital part of information as a public good.


So how is it going on the press freedom front these days?  Well the needle on the dial hovers between not so good and terrible.  In fact the press both traditional media and emerging digital media is under greater pressure in more nations than at any time since the Second World War.

A total of 50 journalists were killed worldwide in 2020, according to the second part of the annual round-up of abusive treatment and violence against journalists, published by Reporters Without Borders (RSF.)  And that may not be comprehensive and doesn’t count dozens of the disappeared.  In the new year there have been spikes in Miramar where protests against the military coup that ousted the elected government have been on going.  Repression in nations of the former Soviet Union including Russia, Belarus, Ukraine, and Kazakhstan  are also rising including assassinations conducted abroad.

Meanwhile independent and dissident journalists are persecuted in Iran, Iraq, Syria, Turkey, Saudi Arabia, and Yemen.  Israel suppresses virtually all independent Palestinian media, routinely detains and jails journalists and has targeted international reporters covering raids, destruction of Palestinian homes, and protests.   China stifles independent voices and shuts down web sites and social media. 

In addition intimidation is a rising problem that deters many from freely reporting the news.  Courtney Radsch, of the CPJ said anti-press rhetoric has become endemic in many countries especially the Philippines and the U.S.  Social media and the internet have added to the issues journalists face.  “Online harassment and its very real threats to journalists, especially women, has compounded the already challenging environment”, she said.

Don’t think America is immune.  During the Trump years press freedom here plummeted relative to Western democracies.  Death threats to American reporters and news organizations skyrocketed as Trump beat his fake news/enemy of the people drum and the far right wing and White nationalist forces listened.  Several news organizations were the victims of bomb scares,  Reporters were attacked and ruffed up at several rallies.  Republican state legislatures have enacted a variety of laws meant to either prevent coverage of protests, corruption, and vote suppression.  Reporters have been criminalized for photographing or filming factory farming and slaughter operations.  They have also been stripped of immunities for protecting sources as have whistle blowers.

Police in Minneapolis arrest a CNN crew covering George Floyd protests.

Although the incoming Biden administration will work to improve conditions on the Federal level, it will be a slow and arduous process.  Meanwhile police have targeted journalists for physical attack—gassing, Tasering, shooting with rubber bullets, and beating reporters covering Black Lives Matter protests in several cities, notably  Minneapolis.

This map of rankings for press freedom was from 2017--Deep red very serious, orange serious, yellow notable problems, light blue satisfactory, dark blue good; Since then the U.S. has slipped to problematic.

Largely due to the deteriorating situation Reporters Without Borders (RSF) downgraded the  ranking in its World Press Freedom Index yet again this year.

It’s a tough time for journalists, but they continue to do their jobs despite obstacles.

  

Sunday, May 2, 2021

Priests, Pacifists, Protestors—Daniel and Phillip Berrigan

Fr. Daniel Berrigan at his Cantonville 9 trial.

Word spread on Friday, April 30, 2017 that Father Daniel Berrigan, S.J. died in a Jesuit infirmary at Fordham University where the firebrand pacifist, thinker, and poet had taught for years and where he made at last a sometimes shaky accommodation with his order.  He was 94 years old.  With his activist brothers Jerry and especially Phillip, he defined if he did not create a robust and defiant Catholic peace movement which influenced and energized the wider secular anti-Vietnam War and anti-nuclear movements.  He even inspired a certain young heathen and heretic’s draft resistance  and prison sentence.

Daniel was the fifth of six sons and born to Thomas William Berrigan and the former Frida Fromhart. in, Virginia, Minnesota a Masabi Iron Range town better known for the production of hockey players than future pacifists.  His German mother and Irish father were both devout Catholics. His father was a railroad engineer, union officer, with thwarted ambitions to be a Catholic scholar who took his deep frustrations, often physically out on his wife and sons.  The tension between piety and daily brutality at home deeply shaped the lives of Daniel and Philip.

Sometime after the birth of Philip two years after him, the family moved to Syracuse, New York where his father had extended family.  Young Daniel was sickly and was born with such weak ankles that he could not walk until he was four years old.  That allowed him to stay close to home under as much protection as his mother could offer and buffered him from some of the stern demands placed on his brothers.  At an early age he resented the Church for excusing, even empowering his father’s brutality toward his mother and tyranny over his family.  Yet he also felt a strong call to the priesthood.

After graduating from high school those weak ankles and general fragility kept him out of the World War II draft, unlike Philip who entered the Army and saw action in Europe as an artillery man and infantry officer.  Daniel enrolled at St. Andrew-on-Hudson, a Jesuit seminary in Hyde Park, New York where he earned a bachelor’s degree in 1946. 

Berrigan taught at St. Peter’s Preparatory School in Jersey City from 1946 to 1949 then continued his education at Woodstock College in Baltimore where he finished his master’s degree in 1952.  He was ordained a priest in the Jesuit order the same year.

Recognized for his brilliant mind in school, Daniel seemed destined to join the ranks of Jesuit intellectuals and academics.  He had an eye opening experience when he was sent to France for a year of study.  That brought him into contact with the French worker priest movement which gave him “a practical vision of the Church as she should be.”

Back in the States in 1954 he joined the faculty of the Jesuits’ Brooklyn Preparatory School, teaching theology and French.  He also undertook his own personal study of poetry and was particularly influenced by Robert Frost, E. E. Cummings and the 19th-century Jesuit Gerard Manley Hopkins.  He began publishing his own poetry which combined nature spirituality with Catholic symbolism. 

He also established contact with Dorothy Day and the Catholic Worker Movement, which had also been influenced by the French worker priests and with the Trappist mystic, pacifist, and poet Thomas Merton.  Both would significantly influence his own development.

In 1957 Daniel became professor of New Testament Studies—another intellectual passion—at Le Moyne College in Syracuse.  He also won the Lamont Poetry Selection from the  Academy of American Poets for his first collection, Time Without Number.   In many ways the next few years there were the happiest of a life not used to happiness or comfortable with it.  He was a very popular instructor making friendships with his students, the cause of some manageable friction with school authorities.  Satisfying, but more troublesome to his school and Jesuit superiors was his growing reputation as a radical, civil rights militant, and pacifist as a part of the small but emerging ban the bomb movement.  He was also drawn to interfaith work which before Vatican II was regarded with deep suspicion by American church leaders.  He founded International House while at Le Moyne.

Daniel’s increasingly high profile role in the growing anti-war movement and the anarcho-socialist tendencies of Dorothy Day’s followers and supporters, drew the ire of Francis Cardinal Spellman of New York, the most powerful prelate in the U.S. and a rabid anti-Communist and Vietnam hawk.  Spellman was particularly infuriated by his leadership involvement in the interdenominational Clergy and Laymen Concerned About Vietnam.

Berigan was eased out of Le Moyne before he could obtain tenure in 1963. 

In 1965 Daniel felt the full force of Spellman’s wrath.  First, on October 15, 1965 one of Daniel’s former Le Moyne students and friend, David Miller, became the first man to publicly burn his draft card at a mass demonstration in New York City.  Two years later Miller was the first man convicted and sentenced to prison for draft card burning.

Next, Roger La Porte, a young Catholic anti-war activist with whom he had only a slight acquaintance self-immolated himself outside United Nations Headquarters in New York in November to protest the War in Vietnam.  Although inspired by the act of a Buddhist monk in Saigon, Spellman launched an investigation meant to blame the young man’s death on Berrigan’s influence.   Partly to protect him and partly to insulate themselves from him, his Jesuit superiors got him out of the country by sending him on a fact finding mission to study the South American working class.  An uproar from Daniel’s supporters in the Jesuit community cut short that exile, but what Berrigan learned from the experience only deepened his radicalism.

Daniel found himself virtually blackballed from Jesuit and Catholic colleges and universities.

Now we must back track and pick up the story of Phillip Berrigan because from this point forward their lives and activism were intertwined.  

Fr. Phillip Berigan pouring blood on Baltimore Draft records.

Phillip Berrigan was born on October 5, 1923 in Two Harbors, Minnesota, a tough Iron Range port on Lake Michigan. He was the youngest of six brothers.

Unlike other well-known anti-war figures of the Vietnam era, Philip knew war—and injustice—first hand.  At the age of 20 he was drafted in 1943.  Basic training in the South was an eye-opening and painful experience for him.  He had never before witnessed firsthand the brutal racism of the Jim Crow South and was stunned that the Army that accommodated it in every way possible.

And that was just the start of his education.  He witnessed the stark horror of war first hand as an artilleryman in the Battle of the Bulge and, as the war drew to a close in Europe, as a Second Lieutenant in the infantry.  He was the recipient of combat decorations/

After the war instead of resuming his interrupted studies at the St. Michael's College in Toronto, he entered the College of the Holy Cross in Worcester, Massachusetts. After graduation in 1950 Philip decided to enter the seminary of the Josephite Fathers, an order founded to minister to recently freed slaves after the Civil War and explicitly dedicated to service to the African diaspora in the U.S.  He was ordained in 1955.

As the Civil Rights Movement heated up, so did Phillip’s involvement.  He marched and participated in sit-ins and other protests immersing himself in the movement’s non-violence and sacrificial militancy, in both of which he found resonance with his pacifist Catholic theology.

Serving Black parishes, Berrigan was beginning to get in trouble with his order superiors by the mid-60s.  After speaking at a public forum in which he blasted the Church for complicity in war crimes , his superiors removed him from his Up State New York parish and assigned him to Baltimore.  He was assigned to St. Peter Claver Church in 1965 and founded the Baltimore Interfaith Peace Mission.  The group began with public witnesses against the war and actions like the picketing of the homes of Secretary of State Dean Rusk and Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara in the Washington suburbs.  It was out of this group and extensive prayerful consideration that the Baltimore Four decided to act.

On October 27, 1967 Father Phillip Berrigan and three others calmly walked into a Selective Service office in the Baltimore Customs House.  As the Reverend James L. Mengel, a United Church of Christ minister and activist distributed copies of The Good News For Modern Man to workers, Berrigan, artist Tom Lewis, and writer David Eberhardt poured blood on the Draft Board files. 

Each of the four men had contributed some of their own blood then supplemented it with duck blood purchased at a local Polish market.  In a leaflet distributed along with the Bibles, Berrigan wrote, “This sacrificial and constructive act is meant to protest the pitiful waste of American and Vietnamese blood in Indochina.”

When they were finished all four men calmly awaited the arrival of police and arrest.  The Baltimore Four, as they came to be known, succeeded in grabbing national attention.  Their act of symbolic defiance helped energize the Anti-War Movement as a whole.  Phillip would be sentenced to four years in prison in this celebrated case.  And it was just his Act I. 

Daniel meanwhile had gotten a position at a prestigious non-Catholic Cornel University as the assistant director of the campus United Religious Work organization in 1967.  In addition to this interfaith work he was chaplain to the Catholic Cornel Newman Club.  He continued writing and speaking out against the war and was becoming one of the best known national figures in the rapidly growing national movement.  He also found time to become directly involved in Philip’s work in Baltimore. 

Daniel had been further radicalized against the government by Phillip’s long sentence in the Baltimore case and by mischaracterizations by the government of his work on behalf of American POWs held in North Vietnam.  In January of 1968 Daniel and historian Howard Zinn went to Hanoi as the Tet offensive raged in South Vietnam where they received and brought home the first American POW released since the beginning of President Johnson’s bombing campaign against the North.   He was widely denounced as a traitor in the press.

While Philip was out of jail awaiting sentencing in the first Draft Board raid, he planned another even more dramatic raid..  This time he was joined by his older brother Daniel  In addition to the Berrigan brothers Tom Lewis was once again on hand as were George Mische, De La Salle Christian Brother Br. David Darst, John Hogan, Marjorie Bradford Melville, Thomas Melville, and Mary Moylan.  On May 17, 1968 they went to a Draft Board in Cantonville, Maryland.  Not content with the mere symbolic vandalism of draft records, this time they hauled hundreds of files from the office into the parking lot, doused them in homemade napalm concocted of gasoline and soap flakes, and set them on fire.

Phillip, center, and Daniel third from right, watch Draft files burn in Cantonville, Maryland.

The trial of the Cantonville Nine—which Philip Berrigan would later turn into a play using mostly trial transcripts—became a media sensation and offered the Berrigans and their collaborators an opportunity to eloquently and defiantly state their positions about war, exploitation, and the complicity of the Church and American society in the carnage.  “Our apologies, good friends, for the fracture of good order, the burning of paper instead of children.”

All of the defendants were convicted.  Phillip and Berrigan were sentenced to 3½ years in prison.  Allowed out on bail before reporting to serve their sentences the Berrigan brothers and some of the other defendants decided that since they had a right to protest manifest injustice, they also had a right not be complicit in their own persecution.  They disappeared before reporting and went underground. 

Both Berrigans would emerge from hiding, make a public appearance, and once again slip away.  Daniel was even interviewed for the documentary film The Holy Outlaw.  Despite Philips more central role in planning the Cantonville raid, Daniel who was better known became the center of much of the press’s attention.   FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover was enraged and put both Berrigans on the Ten Most Wanted List.  A massive nationwide man hunt followed.  On April 11, 1970 Philip Berrigan was arrested when FBI agents broke down the door of Church of St. Gregory the Great in New York City and arrested him in the rectory.  Daniel was nabbed at the home of radical lay Episcopal theologian and lawyer William Stringfellow.

Berrigan brother's resistance was big news,

Both brothers were sent to high security Federal Prisons.  Daniel spent his time writing poetry and essays that continued to be published.  But his always fragile health deteriorated.  He suffered from painful even life threatening  bleeding ulcers.  His health problems led to his early release in 1972.

Philip was sent to prison with his two sentences to be served concurrently.  While serving these sentences he secretly wed Sr. Elizabeth McAlister and anti-war activist in her own right. He was released in 1972.  When the church learned of the marriage both Berrigan and his wife were excommunicated.

The pair faced a new hurdle when they and five others were indicted for an alleged plot to kidnap Secretary of State Henry Kissinger and perhaps “blow up” some steam tunnels.  The Federal case against the so called Harrisburg Seven was built on smuggled letters between the two facilitated by a prisoner/informant and intercepted by authorities.  The government spent over $2 million trying to prove the case in the 1972 trial.   The lead defense attorney, former Attorney General turned anti-war activist Ramsey Clark did not even call a witness.  After lengthy deliberations there was a hung jury.  The greatly embarrassed government declined to re-file the charges.

In 1973 Philip and McAlister founded Jonah House in Baltimore to support the community of non-violent resistance to war and injustice.  Styled a Catholic Worker Resistance House, it was their home for the rest of his life.  The couple had three children.  The House served as a center of action and in 1980 was the birthplace of a new activist group, Plowshares which initiated many more actions over the next decades.  Daniel was also deeply involved in Plowshares.

He had attempted to resume an academic career after his release while continuing peace work in the post-Vietnam era.  He  held faculty positions or ran programs at Union Seminary, Loyola University New Orleans, Columbia, and Yale but was often seen as a trouble maker and a facilitator of campus radicalism.  A journey to Holy Land and Middle East  led him to denounce the State of Israel for its repression of the Palestinian  people.  That, predictably, led to charges that he was engaged in  “old-fashion theological anti-Semitism.” 

Despite the turmoil in his career, Daniel kept up a steady stream of publican—about a book a year—including  theological works, Biblical history and interpretation, philosophical and political essays, and a stream of poetry.  His work with Philip and Plowshares, however ushered in a new, even more intense period civil disobedience and protest.

The first Plowshares action was a raid on the General Electric Nuclear Missile Re-entry Division in King of Prussia, Pennsylvania where nose cones for the Mark 12A nuclear warheads were made. Phillip and Daniel Berrigan and six others symbolically pounded on the nose cones with hammers and drenched them in blood.  This time they were sentenced 11 years in prison after the trial and appeals dragged on for nearly ten years.  Much of that time both brothers were held in custody.  In 1990 the Berrigans were re-sentenced to 23½ months and immediately paroled for time served.

Plowshares would continue to conduct similar such raids often planned by the Berrigan brothers.

In December of 1999 Philip Berrigan participated in his last Plowshares protest—at the Warfield Air National Guard Base in Maryland where members pounded on A-10 Warthog warplanes like those which had been used in the Persian Gulf War.  He was sentenced to 30 months in prison for malicious damage to Federal Property.  He was released from prison for the last time in 2001.

Altogether Phillip served more than 11 years in jail or prison for his defiant acts of civil disobedience.  That is likely a record for any non-violent activist in American History.

Soon after release, Philip died at Jonah House surrounded by his family and supporters of cancer on December 6, 2002 at the age of 72.  He was buried on the grounds of Jonah House, where his wife continues his work.

Daniel continued his work.  He finally found a comfortable academic home at Jesuit Fordham University, embraced by a new generation of Jesuit leaders who had matured admiring him.  He was able to hold on even when he became publicly and harshly critical of conservative Pope John Paul II and the reactionary leadership he installed in the American church hierarchy.

One of Daniel Berrigan's final arrests in 2006 at the United Nations.

He continued to plan and participate in Plowshares actions and was regularly arrested.  Daniel called the days after 9/11 when the American people embraced the aggressive War on Terror, and wars in Iraq and Afghanistan the darkest of his life.  He was deeply disappointed by a feeble  anti-war movement and despaired that the government and media had become a seamless, unchallengeable monolith.  Yet he continued on, offering his frail body time and time again in arrest.  Among his last arrests in 2006 were for civil disobedience blocking the Intrepid Naval Air and Space Museum and United Nations Headquarters in New York.

He was a contributing editor at Sojourners, a left interfaith journal with strong connections to radical Evangelicals.

He was encouraged by the Occupy Wall Street Movement and addressed a rally at Zuccotti Park in Lower Manhattan in 2012.  No longer physically able to put his body on the line, he also embraced the Black Lives Matter protests.  In those two movements he saw the seeds of real and widespread popular resistance to systematic evil. 

The frail man outlasted all expectations.  Despite infirmities, he was tough to the core.  He left behind a great legacy that morally challenges each and every one of us.

                        An Orthodox style icon of the Berrigan brothers.

I know National Poetry Month has passed, but I would be remiss if I did not include some of Daniel Berrigan’s accomplished and moving verse. 

 

Miracles

Were I God almighty, I would ordain, rain fall lightly where old men trod, no death in childbirth, neither infant nor mother, ditches firm fenced against the errant blind, aircraft come to ground like any feather.

No mischance, malice, knives.
Tears dried. Would resolve all
flaw and blockage of mind
that makes us mad, sets lives awry.

So I pray, under
the sign of the world's murder, the ruined son;
why are you silent?
feverish as lions
hear us in the world,
caged, devoid of hope.

Still, some redress and healing.
The hand of an old woman
turns gospel page;
it flares up gently, the sudden tears of Christ

—Daniel Berrigan, S.J.

[Fragment]

 

My brother and I stand like the fences
of abandoned farms, changed times
too loosely webbed against
deicide homicide
A really powerful blow
would bring us down like scarecrows.
Nature, knowing this, finding us mildly useful
indulging also
her backhanded love of freakishness
allows us to stand.

 

—Daniel Berrigan, S.J.

 

Saturday, May 1, 2021

May Day Musing, Meetings and Marching

On May Day International Labor Day and immigrant rights marches  complement each other.

It May Day!  This year I will forego the detailed history of the day.  Those who have been around this joint for a while have seen it.  If not check this out.  Suffice it to say that this is officially celebrated as Labor  Day in almost every country except the United States, where the whole thing began in commemoration of the of a Chicago eight hour day strike that lead to a police attack on a protest rally on May 4 where a bomb was thrown, probably by an agent provocateur in 1886.  That led to the trial of eight labor leaders, mostly immigrant German anarchists.  Four were hung, one committed suicide in his jail cell during the trial, and the other four were sentenced to prison and were ultimately pardoned by Illinois Governor John Peter Altgeld.

Samuel Gompers proposed that the event be commemorated on May 1 at a meeting of the Socialist International in Paris.  Originally meant to be a one-and-done world-wide protest it was so successful that it became an  annual celebration of Labor.  In Mexico annual strike and marches was for many year known as  Día de los Mártires de Chicago.  By the 20th Century anarchists, socialists, and Communists all celebrated the day and labor unions adopted it.  Most countries observe it now as an official Labor holiday.

Here in the States where a September date was picked to disassociate Labor Day from radicalism militants continued to observe May Day anyway until the Red Scare repression after World War I and the McCarthy Era persecutions in post-World War II years into the 1950s.  Over the last decades both radicals and the mainstream Labor movement have revived commemorations, especially in Chicago.  And May Day has also become a major event for the immigration justice movement spreading from California  to major marches across the country every year.  Often the Labor and immigration observances merge. 

As an old Wobbly—member of the Industrial Workers of the World—May Day has been personal to me.  In 1970 or so Wobblies led a march from the empty pedestal of a monument to the police killed in 1886—the pedestal was empty because the statue kept getting bombed—carrying a life-size statue of Louis Ling, the youngest of the Haymarket defendants who blew his head off biting on a blasting cap, through the Loop.  We marched on sidewalks obeying traffic signals but the heavy police presence that accompanied us tied up downtown traffic for hours.

Four or five years later the IWW along with the Illinois Labor History Society and other groups held a Six Hour Day rally on the site of the speakers’ wagon  in the Haymarket, the first celebration there in decades.  I ran off flyers on the printing press I operated at Diezgen Corp.  Studs Terkel acted as master of ceremonies, Win Stracke sang,  and IWW Fellow Workers Fred W. Thompson and Carlos Cortez were featured speakers.

Utah Philips at the centennial ceremony at the Haymarket Martyrs memorial in Forest Home cemetery.

Other years I participated in the annual gatherings and wreath laying at the Haymarket Memorial in Forest Home Cemetery.  That included visits to the graves of the many labor leaders, anarchists, Socialist, and Communists who wanted to be buried nearby.  In 1986 Wobbly balladeer and Story Teller Utah Philips was featured for the centennial of the Haymarket Affair,

After we moved to Crystal Lake in the mid-‘80s there were many years that I could not afford to take an unpaid day off to go down to Chicago or the cemetery unless May Day fell on a weekend.  But around 1990 I was invited to lead a May Day service at a small start-up Unitarian Universalist labor congregation that met at the UE (United Electrical Workers) hall.  Afterwards I visited the then newly erected Haymarket Monument on the site of the original speakers’ wagon.  The statue had been built and placed by the Chicago Federation of Labor, which was warming to its more radical roots, and had support of the City government. That somewhat blustery day, the Haymarket was virtually empty.  My wife and I missed a small ceremony held that year, but I proudly got my picture taken with the sculpture.

At the Haymarket Monument one May Day.

In 2017 I got down to Chicago for the largest May Day March in Chicago since the Great Depression.  One of the March co-sponsors, the Illinois Coalition for Immigrant and Refugee Rights, claimed 20,000 participants.  That seemed about right.  I came down with Sue Reckenthaler, then the Social Justice Chair of Tree of Life Unitarian Universalist Congregation.  There was a large, festive rally at Union Park west of the Loop followed by a long march to the Daley Center Plaza where another rally was being held. 

Little did I know then that it would be the next-to-last long march I would ever be able to make. After my gallbladder tried to kill me which led to afib causing shortness of breath and then painful deterioration of a knee, I can barely make two laps around Woodstock Square where I will be marching today.

The sign I will be carrying today in Woodstock.

I’ll be there for the Coalition to End the ICE Contract in McHenry County rally and march Honor Immigrants - Cancel ICE from 2 to 3:30 pm.  I hope to see you there.  I will be the dude in the red shirt, black scarf, and straw cowboy hat.

Back at my last Chicago march in 2017 I channeled by inner Carl Sandberg to answer those progressives who approved of immigrant rights marches on May First but clucked their tongues and wrung their hands that militant leftists would “damage the cause” by showing up at demonstrations with red or black flags and a chip on their shoulder.

                                        May Day in Chicago, 2017.

It Ain’t May I Day

May 1, 2017

 

It ain’t May I Day, Bub!

No, siree.

It’s get the hell out of our way

May Day,

beg no damn pardon

May Day,

get your paws off of her

May Day,

leave those kids alone

May Day,

all hands on deck

May Day,

we and us and ours

May Day,

five finger fist

May Day,

We win,

May Day

Venceremos,

May Day,

Get it now?

 

—Patrick Murfin