FoundSF - User contributions [en]

Housing as Environmental Justice in the East Bay

2014-08-21T01:10:26Z

Mfriedman:

''' Historical Essay '''

''Written by Stephanie Giles, Jerilyn Wu, and Ji-Yoon Han with Marissa Friedman and Maribeth Côté, August 2014''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] The fight to win protections for affordable housing, to preserve the right for members to continue living within their communities, and to protest against unfair evictions for renters in order to fight for the basic rights to protect the communities where people live, work, and play in the East Bay were taken on as environmental justice issues by key Bay Area API environmental justice organization [[APEN-The Laotian Organizing Project|Asian Pacific Environmental Network (APEN) and their Laotian Organizing Project (LOP)]] in the 1990s and 200s. The environmental justice movement made clear that safe and affordable housing for all was an environmental issue since it directly impacted the quality of life, health, and the general living environment of entire communities. Because API communities in the East Bay were often disproportionately affected by a lack of access to decent and safe housing conditions, APEN and the LOP became key actors in the struggle to address and resolve these inequities.

The major success of the LOP’s first campaign in Richmond, which secured an adequate emergency response system for the local Laotian community whose members were disproportionately affected by environmental contamination from the Chevron Oil Refinery, was a key turning point in the development of a broader environmental justice movement among the Bay Area Asian-Pacific Islander community. The LOP’s early success set the foundation and motivation for APEN to expand the scope of their activism on behalf of marginalized communities in the name of environmental justice. In 2002, LOP initiated their Housing Justice Campaign to address their community’s most pressing issues pertaining to housing in the East Bay. LOP believed that the campaign’s focus on the need for safe and affordable housing reflected environmental justice principles by building democratic participation, holding government and corporations accountable to the people, and demanding justice for communities of color and low-income communities (APEN: 2002, 15).

Working with the API community within Oakland’s Chinatown, the Asian Pacific Environmental Network (APEN) expanded their initial repertoire of direct organizing strategies to incorporate more regional communities in their work and to engage in greater regional policy reform strategies. Through existing familial ties and leadership connections, APEN was able to work off of the foundation LOP laid through their Housing Rights Campaign within Richmond in order to locate a niche for themselves in communities outside Richmond. APEN soon realized that Oakland would be the target location for their next project. At the same time LOP launched their Housing Justice Campaign, APEN initiated efforts to expand their organization and community impact in Oakland, realizing that housing was not only the primary concern for the communities in Richmond but also for many communities in Oakland, CA (APEN: 2002, 6). Like the Laotian community in Richmond, Asian communities in Oakland also had limited access to culturally appropriate services, bore higher rates of toxic exposure at work and at home, and lacked access to decision-makers who could impact change (APEN: 2003,1). Not only did Asian communities in the city lack any organizations to support environmental issues surrounding access to and quality of housing, but statistics showed that in some parts of Oakland, housing was an even more serious problem than it was in Richmond. According to U.S. Census data in 2000, while 12% of renters and 4.4% of homeowners were living in severely overcrowded conditions in Richmond, 13.6% of renters and 5.5% of homeowners in Oakland were severely overcrowded (APEN: 2003, 4). Moreover, 58% of occupied housing units in Richmond were contaminated with lead-based paints that could cause severe developmental, behavior, and health problems in children as compared to 71% of occupied housing units in Oakland (APEN: 2003, 4).

APEN also recognized that there would be sufficient community resentment and sentiment about the housing situation in Oakland among Asian communities from which to draw on in order to implement a successful mobilization for their project in Oakland. In other words, APEN understood that there would be a sufficient base-building population in Oakland. On event that had already highlighted the potential for the community mobilization in the city was the community protests surrounding the BART Redevelopment Project. In 2006, BART decided to demolish its headquarters and close down the Lake Merritt station plaza, leaving the neighborhood without a vital community space for tai chi, qigong, lion dancing, and other traditional Chinese activities. In response, the community collected over 1500 petition signatures and raised $35,000 to create a public park at Madison Park where residents could continue these activities (Huang, 64). Residents’ reaction to the BART Redevelopment Project demonstrated care and initiative among Oakland residents, which were critical characteristics of a population APEN could successfully organize.

Like Richmond residents, many older Oakland residents also wanted to preserve affordable housing in the existing Oakland Chinese community consolidated around 8th and Webster Streets (Huang, 63). Housing which provided access to services and fostered community were important to recent Chinese immigrants into the East Bay. Vickie Liu, one Oakland Chinatown resident, said, “We’re new immigrants to America and I liked the easy access to public transportation so it was very convenient for me. There was a huge population of Chinese ethnic people that live [in Oakland Chinatown] and it made the adjustment easier for me” (APEN: 2003, 19).

APEN’s Oakland Chinatown Housing initiative served as an umbrella project for a number of successful smaller programs. First was the Oral History Project, where Roy Chan of the Oakland Asian Cultural Center documented the history of Oakland Chinatown. Because residents of the area lost much historical knowledge, this project was particularly important. “The reason why we wanted to tell a complete story of the blocks that used to be there is because more recent immigrants do not have any idea of what happened,” said Chan. “The Oakland Chinatown Oral History Project is a way to personalize and humanize the story—to show that these were real homes that were built over the decades and taken away…. We want to equip the community to know its own history and to speak on its own behalf” (Huang, 63).

The second successful Oakland Chinatown project was the utilization and promotion of community engagement strategies. Organizations such as APEN, Asian Health Services (AHS), and East Bay Asian Local Development Corporation (EBALDC) worked to organize community members by conducting over 1000 surveys and engaging them in planning workshops to better identify and articulate community needs and concerns. “Community engagement is definitely important because of the history of these processes in Chinatown,” stated Julia Liou of AHS. “Traditionally, our communities haven’t been part of the planning process. Usually, it’s just a flyer that goes out. So, it’s important to advocate for the needs identified by the community” (Huang, 65).

These steps made by APEN and the LOP set the stage for a new development in the organizing capacity of the API community in Oakland specifically. The Power in Asians Organizing (PAO) Project emerged in 2002 as a means of uniting the varied Asian ethnic communities of Oakland, including Cambodians, Filipinos, Vietnamese, Chinese, and Laotians (APEN: 2008, 1). Notably, in November 2002, PAO registered, educated, and turned out Asian immigrant voters to win both a city initiative to protect renters against unfair evictions and Proposition 46, a state-wide housing bond that allocated $2.1 billion for affordable housing and housing assistance (Huang, 1). Through PAO's initial organizing drive, it became clear that API’s in Oakland wanted change and were motivated to get involved. Surveyed residents identified safe and affordable housing as their primary concern, resulting in a core of sixty community activists who have begun to take on tenant's rights and affordable housing in the area. In just a few years, with a membership of 400 families and thirty-five leaders, PAO has grown to be one of the largest base-building organizations in Oakland (APEN: 2008,1).

PAO has successfully protected low-income housing in Oakland through two different initiatives. The first was the Housing Justice Campaign, where, in early 2003, PAO launched their campaign for increased affordable housing rights and developer accountability in low-income communities. PAO leaders built “community support around issues of gentrification, residential conditions, and housing affordability,” and “played a critical role in stopping the Pacific Renaissance Plaza Chinatown evictions in 2003” (APEN: 2008). The Pacific Renaissance Plaza within Chinatown was built in 1993 as a redevelopment project, which provided fifty rental units. In 2003, the tenants of these fifty rental units were faced with eviction notices but many of these tenants were of old age and of poor health. APEN successfully lobbied for an end to the evictions and secured 100 low-income units in Chinatown (APEN: 2008, 1).

The second successful campaign was the Oak to the 9th Affordable Housing Project. This campaign focused on securing affordable housing at [http://oakto9th.com Oak to 9th], a large, local housing development project “located in the heart of PAO’s organizing area.” With 2,000 residential units proposed, “this was the largest housing development to hit Oakland since World War II. PAO recognized Oak to 9th as a key opportunity to ensure the Housing Development Project me[t] the community’s need for affordable housing and prevent[ed] further gentrification of immigrant communities” (APEN: 2008, 1).

APEN and the LOP’s role in developing the Oakland Chinatown Housing Project and the Power in Asians Organizing (PAO) Project allowed these organizations to grow their communities membership base and create a larger impact in the Bay Area. The ever-growing network of organizations and initiatives with links to APEN and the environmental justice movement in the East Bay reveal that there remains a pressing need for more policy- and community-based solutions to the environmental justice crises in the Bay Area (APEN: 2008, 1).

'''Notes'''

APEN. “[http://www.issuelab.org/resource/moments_in_a_movement_apen_2002_annual_report APEN Voices: Moments in a Movement].”APEN 2002 Annual Report. 6,1: 1-40.

APEN. "[http://archive.apen4ej.org/organize_pao.htm Power in Asians Organizing]." Asian Pacific Environmental Network. APEN, 2008.

APEN. “Strengthening the Roots.” Oakland: APEN, 2003. Print.

Huang, Vivian. "[http://apen4ej.org/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/RPE-18-1.huang_.pdf Building Transit Oriented Community in Oakland’s Chinatown]." Race, Poverty & the Environment 1st ser. 18 (2011): 63-88.

[[Category: Bay Area Social Movements]] [[Category: Dissent]] [[Category:1990s]] [[Category:2000s]] [[Category:Laotian]] [[Category: Filipino]] [[Category:Cambodian]] [[Category:Vietnamese] [[Category: Redevelopment]] [[Category: Housing]] [[Category: Chinese]]

Housing as Environmental Justice in the East Bay

2014-08-21T01:08:56Z

Mfriedman: Adding page

''' Historical Essay '''

''Written by Stephanie Giles, Jerilyn Wu, and Ji-Yoon Han with Marissa Friedman and Maribeth Côté, August 2014''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] The fight to win protections for affordable housing, to preserve the right for members to continue living within their communities, and to protest against unfair evictions for renters in order to fight for the basic rights to protect the communities where people live, work, and play in the East Bay were taken on as environmental justice issues by key Bay Area API environmental justice organization [[APEN-The Laotian Organizing Project|Asian Pacific Environmental Network (APEN) and their Laotian Organizing Project (LOP)]], in the 1990s and 200s. The environmental justice movement made clear that safe and affordable housing for all was an environmental issue since it directly impacted the quality of life, health, and the general living environment of entire communities. Because API communities in the East Bay were often disproportionately affected by a lack of access to decent and safe housing conditions, APEN and the LOP became key actors in the struggle to address and resolve these inequities.

The major success of the LOP’s first campaign in Richmond, which secured an adequate emergency response system for the local Laotian community whose members were disproportionately affected by environmental contamination from the Chevron Oil Refinery, was a key turning point in the development of a broader environmental justice movement among the Bay Area Asian-Pacific Islander community. The LOP’s early success set the foundation and motivation for APEN to expand the scope of their activism on behalf of marginalized communities in the name of environmental justice. In 2002, LOP initiated their Housing Justice Campaign to address their community’s most pressing issues pertaining to housing in the East Bay. LOP believed that the campaign’s focus on the need for safe and affordable housing reflected environmental justice principles by building democratic participation, holding government and corporations accountable to the people, and demanding justice for communities of color and low-income communities (APEN: 2002, 15).

Working with the API community within Oakland’s Chinatown, the Asian Pacific Environmental Network (APEN) expanded their initial repertoire of direct organizing strategies to incorporate more regional communities in their work and to engage in greater regional policy reform strategies. Through existing familial ties and leadership connections, APEN was able to work off of the foundation LOP laid through their Housing Rights Campaign within Richmond in order to locate a niche for themselves in communities outside Richmond. APEN soon realized that Oakland would be the target location for their next project. At the same time LOP launched their Housing Justice Campaign, APEN initiated efforts to expand their organization and community impact in Oakland, realizing that housing was not only the primary concern for the communities in Richmond but also for many communities in Oakland, CA (APEN: 2002, 6). Like the Laotian community in Richmond, Asian communities in Oakland also had limited access to culturally appropriate services, bore higher rates of toxic exposure at work and at home, and lacked access to decision-makers who could impact change (APEN: 2003,1). Not only did Asian communities in the city lack any organizations to support environmental issues surrounding access to and quality of housing, but statistics showed that in some parts of Oakland, housing was an even more serious problem than it was in Richmond. According to U.S. Census data in 2000, while 12% of renters and 4.4% of homeowners were living in severely overcrowded conditions in Richmond, 13.6% of renters and 5.5% of homeowners in Oakland were severely overcrowded (APEN: 2003, 4). Moreover, 58% of occupied housing units in Richmond were contaminated with lead-based paints that could cause severe developmental, behavior, and health problems in children as compared to 71% of occupied housing units in Oakland (APEN: 2003, 4).

APEN also recognized that there would be sufficient community resentment and sentiment about the housing situation in Oakland among Asian communities from which to draw on in order to implement a successful mobilization for their project in Oakland. In other words, APEN understood that there would be a sufficient base-building population in Oakland. On event that had already highlighted the potential for the community mobilization in the city was the community protests surrounding the BART Redevelopment Project. In 2006, BART decided to demolish its headquarters and close down the Lake Merritt station plaza, leaving the neighborhood without a vital community space for tai chi, qigong, lion dancing, and other traditional Chinese activities. In response, the community collected over 1500 petition signatures and raised $35,000 to create a public park at Madison Park where residents could continue these activities (Huang, 64). Residents’ reaction to the BART Redevelopment Project demonstrated care and initiative among Oakland residents, which were critical characteristics of a population APEN could successfully organize.

Like Richmond residents, many older Oakland residents also wanted to preserve affordable housing in the existing Oakland Chinese community consolidated around 8th and Webster Streets (Huang, 63). Housing which provided access to services and fostered community were important to recent Chinese immigrants into the East Bay. Vickie Liu, one Oakland Chinatown resident, said, “We’re new immigrants to America and I liked the easy access to public transportation so it was very convenient for me. There was a huge population of Chinese ethnic people that live [in Oakland Chinatown] and it made the adjustment easier for me” (APEN: 2003, 19).

APEN’s Oakland Chinatown Housing initiative served as an umbrella project for a number of successful smaller programs. First was the Oral History Project, where Roy Chan of the Oakland Asian Cultural Center documented the history of Oakland Chinatown. Because residents of the area lost much historical knowledge, this project was particularly important. “The reason why we wanted to tell a complete story of the blocks that used to be there is because more recent immigrants do not have any idea of what happened,” said Chan. “The Oakland Chinatown Oral History Project is a way to personalize and humanize the story—to show that these were real homes that were built over the decades and taken away…. We want to equip the community to know its own history and to speak on its own behalf” (Huang, 63).

The second successful Oakland Chinatown project was the utilization and promotion of community engagement strategies. Organizations such as APEN, Asian Health Services (AHS), and East Bay Asian Local Development Corporation (EBALDC) worked to organize community members by conducting over 1000 surveys and engaging them in planning workshops to better identify and articulate community needs and concerns. “Community engagement is definitely important because of the history of these processes in Chinatown,” stated Julia Liou of AHS. “Traditionally, our communities haven’t been part of the planning process. Usually, it’s just a flyer that goes out. So, it’s important to advocate for the needs identified by the community” (Huang, 65).

These steps made by APEN and the LOP set the stage for a new development in the organizing capacity of the API community in Oakland specifically. The Power in Asians Organizing (PAO) Project emerged in 2002 as a means of uniting the varied Asian ethnic communities of Oakland, including Cambodians, Filipinos, Vietnamese, Chinese, and Laotians (APEN: 2008, 1). Notably, in November 2002, PAO registered, educated, and turned out Asian immigrant voters to win both a city initiative to protect renters against unfair evictions and Proposition 46, a state-wide housing bond that allocated $2.1 billion for affordable housing and housing assistance (Huang, 1). Through PAO's initial organizing drive, it became clear that API’s in Oakland wanted change and were motivated to get involved. Surveyed residents identified safe and affordable housing as their primary concern, resulting in a core of sixty community activists who have begun to take on tenant's rights and affordable housing in the area. In just a few years, with a membership of 400 families and thirty-five leaders, PAO has grown to be one of the largest base-building organizations in Oakland (APEN: 2008,1).

PAO has successfully protected low-income housing in Oakland through two different initiatives. The first was the Housing Justice Campaign, where, in early 2003, PAO launched their campaign for increased affordable housing rights and developer accountability in low-income communities. PAO leaders built “community support around issues of gentrification, residential conditions, and housing affordability,” and “played a critical role in stopping the Pacific Renaissance Plaza Chinatown evictions in 2003” (APEN: 2008). The Pacific Renaissance Plaza within Chinatown was built in 1993 as a redevelopment project, which provided fifty rental units. In 2003, the tenants of these fifty rental units were faced with eviction notices but many of these tenants were of old age and of poor health. APEN successfully lobbied for an end to the evictions and secured 100 low-income units in Chinatown (APEN: 2008, 1).

The second successful campaign was the Oak to the 9th Affordable Housing Project. This campaign focused on securing affordable housing at [http://oakto9th.com Oak to 9th], a large, local housing development project “located in the heart of PAO’s organizing area.” With 2,000 residential units proposed, “this was the largest housing development to hit Oakland since World War II. PAO recognized Oak to 9th as a key opportunity to ensure the Housing Development Project me[t] the community’s need for affordable housing and prevent[ed] further gentrification of immigrant communities” (APEN: 2008, 1).

APEN and the LOP’s role in developing the Oakland Chinatown Housing Project and the Power in Asians Organizing (PAO) Project allowed these organizations to grow their communities membership base and create a larger impact in the Bay Area. The ever-growing network of organizations and initiatives with links to APEN and the environmental justice movement in the East Bay reveal that there remains a pressing need for more policy- and community-based solutions to the environmental justice crises in the Bay Area (APEN: 2008, 1).

'''Notes'''

APEN. “[http://www.issuelab.org/resource/moments_in_a_movement_apen_2002_annual_report APEN Voices: Moments in a Movement].”APEN 2002 Annual Report. 6,1: 1-40.

APEN. "[http://archive.apen4ej.org/organize_pao.htm Power in Asians Organizing]." Asian Pacific Environmental Network. APEN, 2008.

APEN. “Strengthening the Roots.” Oakland: APEN, 2003. Print.

Huang, Vivian. "[http://apen4ej.org/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/RPE-18-1.huang_.pdf Building Transit Oriented Community in Oakland’s Chinatown]." Race, Poverty & the Environment 1st ser. 18 (2011): 63-88.

[[Category: Bay Area Social Movements]] [[Category: Dissent]] [[Category:1990s]] [[Category:2000s]] [[Category:Laotian]] [[Category: Filipino]] [[Category:Cambodian]] [[Category:Vietnamese] [[Category: Redevelopment]] [[Category: Housing]] [[Category: Chinese]]

Indian People Organzing for Change (IPOC) and the Sogorea Te Occupation

2014-08-20T23:49:58Z

Mfriedman:

''' Historical Essay '''

''Written by George Cheng, Mayra Herrera, Paula Kahn, So Jeong Yoon with Marissa Friedman and Chris Carlsson, August 2014''

[[Image:8168654433 9a27fac52a z.jpg]]

'''A small monument built at the Bay Street Mall in Emeryville, California, as a symbolic compensation to the Ohlone who originally inhabited the site and built the shellmound which remains buried under the shopping center.'''

''Photo by [https://www.flickr.com/photos/whsieh78/8168654433/in/photolist-46kcSD-473eDy-46RT9c-drQunx-46VY17-aLXDat-e9N2rH-aLXDhK-aLXDdT-aLXCZ8-aLXD4K-46RThp-46kd56-46pjSS-jDh2B3-46kdr8-7h49x-jKBSWG-nswgzX-5qyRsY-83xZ55-6Bkzxe-e8kuVE Wayne Hsieh]''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] When people drive on Interstate 580 near the Bay Bridge and pass the Shellmound St. exit, how many of them are aware of the burial ground they are driving by and probably over? Every year Ohlone descendants and their allies gather at Shellmound Memorial Park on Black Friday to protest the recent desecration of their ancestors’ burial site (E’ville Eye Community News) with the development of the Bay Street Mall over the historic ancestral graveyard known as the Emeryville shellmound.

Native people in the Bay Area continue to resist, a movement galvanized in the 1960s-70s during the Third World Liberation movement. The necessity to protect sacred Ohlone land in the East Bay from development spawned the creation of Indian People Organizing for Change (IPOC). Their efforts to preserve cultural and spiritual identities and defend the sacred nature of land through spiritual walks and encampments can be thought of as an act of self-determination. IPOC’s work responds to centuries of land dispossession, the United States government’s failure to make reparations for the historical displacement of Native Americans, and the lack of United Nations enforcement of international agreements regarding the rights of indigenous people. IPOC’s work also reclaims a spiritual, cultural and communal identity.

For the Ohlone in particular, the [[Searching for the Yelamu in San Francisco|shellmounds were community cemeteries]]. Ohlone and IPOC organizer Corrina Gould clarifies: “Shellmounds are the burial sites of our ancestors. They are not just village sites, but they are always burial sites. There are some villages that didn’t have burials, but all the shellmounds are burial sites. And as the years and centuries went by, these mounds became huge. They became monuments to the people that lived here in the Bay Area.”

Like the fate of many [[Shellmound at San Bruno Mountain|shellmounds in the Bay Area]], the site of the Emeryville shellmound has a long history of having been occupied, used, and abused by non-native communities. During the 20th century, the Emeryville shellmound was bulldozed and eventually flattened by multiple industrial development projects. Most recently, notwithstanding Ohlone historical, cultural, and spiritual ties to the land, the shellmound has become the site of the Bay Street Mall.

The understanding of land as sacred to a community—and its dispossession—is an environmental justice issue. The Native American relationship to other living organisms is a spiritual, symbiotic one based on the understanding that we share Earth, as opposed to a possessive, economic, extractive, and destructive relationship with the fruits and diversity of this planet. In the words of Christopher Vecsey:

Indians found their world filled with special spots where power for life was concentrated. These locales were sacred, and they desired to live close to them, where the spirits of nature most often revealed themselves... where their myths took place, where the nature deities were helpful, where conditions for subsistence were optimum. (1980, 25)

According to Luan Marks, “There are immense gaps between those that find the World sacred and those who do not. Sacred Lands and places have been and continue to be destroyed and damaged, despite continued protests. Closing the gap and defending the sacred Lands and Places are monumental tasks“ (Marks 2). In the case of the Emeryville shellmound, the Bay Area Native American community rallied to the defense of the Ohlone and to oppose further economic development of the land.

This urgent need to defend and restore sacred sites for community use is what brought Indian People Organizing for Change (IPOC) together. Stephanie Manning was a preservationist with Berkeley Architectural Heritage when, in the course of her research, she was approached by her neighbor, a UC Berkeley archaeology student, who shared a study with her that had been done in the site of Spenger’s parking lot. The archaeological dig reported that there had been a shellmound on the site and that it was used as a burial site. Stephanie’s interest was piqued, and, due to the ongoing plans for a parking structure to be built there, she was anxious to garner public support. Yet mobilizing supporters proved to be more difficult than she imagined. Even working alongside the International Treaty Council few people stepped forward to help. Stephanie started “The Shellmounder” newsletter as a way of outreach to the larger Native American community. She met Corrina, Johnella, and Perry at Emeryville city council meetings. Corrina Gould & Johnella LaRose found out about bodies being dug up at the Emeryville construction site through their connection with the Inter-Tribal Friendship House, a community space they worked with to preserve Indian identity and culture. Perry, Stephanie, Corina, and Johnella then went on to establish Indian People Organizing for Change (IPOC), an organization which has brought together a community of American Indians as well as non-American Indians to advocate for “social and environmental justice within the Bay Area American Indian community” (Indian People Organizing for Change).

IPOC was created in 1999 with a grant from the Catholic Campaign for Human Development (LaRose). The Community Mobilization Project and the Bay Area Native American community were the primary actors behind the formation of IPOC. IPOC directly addresses the long history of appropriation and destruction of Native American land, culture, means of self-governance, and general way of life, compounded with relocation initiatives imposed by the federal government. The goal of IPOC from the beginning has been to strengthen the connection between American Indians and their traditional culture(s) in ways which fulfill the need to belong to an affirming community (Gould). The organization operates upon the theory that once the needs of a community are met, the community becomes self-sufficient and is then able to support other communities in organizing (Gould). The organizing for sacred land preservation was and continues to be one way in which IPOC works towards achieving these goals.

As a solution-oriented organization the group functions as the eyes and ears of the community, providing an open forum for Indian people to voice concerns and come up with solutions. The organization’s earlier methods of tracking community concerns included making house calls, or door-to-door visits, in which a pair of IPOC members would speak with Native American residents. Taking a page from Cesar Chavez’s farmworker organizing history, IPOC sought to engage community members first and then develop solutions to problems. This approach turns upside down the traditional top-down model of community development and organizing (LaRose).

IPOC also promoted leadership skill development to educate community members about the concepts of sovereignty, self-definition and self-sufficiency. The organization also held monthly gatherings to develop outreach for Indian veterans while also organizing youth to practice outreach with the homeless (LaRose).

In 2005 Corrina had dreams about her ancestors which became the inspiration for IPOC’s involvement in a series of walks for the shellmounds from 2005 to 2009 (Manning). The walks sought to raise awareness about the importance of the sites and why land preservation was so critical. The protection of land is tied directly to the preservation of American-Indian culture and identity as well as honoring the ancestors who have been buried there. In this sense, having the space to practice one’s culture reinforces the identity of the practitioner.

'''Sogorea Te/Glen Cove 2011'''

Following their earlier shellmound walks, IPOC organized an 109-day occupation and spiritual encampment at Sogorea Te, also known as Glen Cove, on April 14th 2011. The objective of the occupation was to prevent the Greater Vallejo Recreation District from constructing a parking lot and grazing the land. IPOC was able to reach an agreement with the district on the conditions of development. “It originally started off as a 15-space parking lot with overhead lights and we were able to change it to only 2 handicapped spaces with no lights, but when they built it they added in an extra 6 car spaces. Also, we were able to negotiate the material that was used for the pavement, allowing animals to cross more safely” (LaRose).

IPOC’s Sogorea Te occupation remains highly significant for its participants as a means of re-establishing identity through the reclamation of space and history. According to Barbara Voss, “Collective and individual identities are formed in part through patterns of bodily movements that generate knowledge of one’s place in the world and one’s relationship to the social order. Feelings of being “lost,” and “out of place,” or in the right place are practical expressions of this knowledge. Power is thus often materialized through control of space and bodily movement” (Voss, 148). IPOC’s occupation of Sogorea Te challenged the ways in which colonization had transformed spatial relations for over 200 years. The occupied space at Sogorea Te affirmed the IPOC community’s collective identity, fostering a sense of belonging and empowerment among participants.

Those who participated in the occupation spoke of dreams transmitted from the ancestors and appearances of protective spirits. According to one participant, “One day I was in so much pain, I really wanted to cry...and I felt a hand touch me on the shoulder and I looked back and there was nobody there, but my leg started feeling better and I could make it through the night...it was really powerful, it was very spiritual” (Bear Warrior).

At the annual anniversary of the occupation participants shared stories, rooted in a newfound sense of purpose and community for its members and participants:

...So that’s how I began to make my connection to the land…just being part of my culture...learning from each other. Everybody began to grow into their role in the community—it was a beautiful experience... [On] the land out here [we] walked on it with no separation—no cities, no buildings, nothing to block us from our connection with the land and that’s where I think the knowledge and wisdom of how to be with one another is embedded in the land (Luta, community member).

Barbara Voss understands that it is “through bodily movement that people are capable of transforming their world by taking social action, for the meaning of a place is produced through the interactions and activities that occur there.” (Voss, 2008) By interrupting the landscape of Sogorea Te for those 109 days, IPOC members combated the false narrative of Ohlone extinction, while simultaneously fighting to preserve and repossess their culture, land, history and identity in the process. According to IPOC founding member Corina Gould, “We all became human again.” (Gould)

'''Notes'''

"[http://bayradical.blogspot.com/2007/11/shellmound.html Bay Radical]." : The Shellmound. N.p., Nov.-Dec. 2007. Web. 16 May 2014.

Bear Warrior, Personal interview.

Gould, Personal interview.

[http://ipocshellmoundwalk.homestead.com/index.html Indian People Organizing for Change], 1 Jan. 2010. Web. 1 Apr. 2014.

LaRose, Personal interview.

Luta, Personal interview.

Manning, Personal interview.

Marks, Luan F.M. Natures of the Sacred: On Native North American Sacred Lands and Places. Diss. California Institute of Integral Studies, 2007. San Francisco, CA. Print.

Vecsey, Christopher. 1980. American Indian Environmental religions. In Vecsey and Venables 1980, 1-37.

Voss, Barbara L. The Archaeology of Ethnogenesis: Race and Sexuality in Colonial San Francisco. Berkeley: U of California, 2008. Print.

[[Category: Bay Area Social Movements]] [[Category: Cemeteries]] [[Category: Dissent]] [[Category: Indigenous]] [[Category: 1990s]] [[Category: 2000s]] [[Category: 2010s]]

Indian People Organzing for Change (IPOC) and the Sogorea Te Occupation

2014-08-20T23:49:12Z

Mfriedman: Fixing citations

''' Historical Essay '''

''Written by George Cheng, Mayra Herrera, Paula Kahn, So Jeong Yoon with Marissa Friedman and Chris Carlsson, August 2014''

[[Image:8168654433 9a27fac52a z.jpg]]

'''A small monument built at the Bay Street Mall in Emeryville, California, as a symbolic compensation to the Ohlone who originally inhabited the site and built the shellmound which remains buried under the shopping center.'''

''Photo by [https://www.flickr.com/photos/whsieh78/8168654433/in/photolist-46kcSD-473eDy-46RT9c-drQunx-46VY17-aLXDat-e9N2rH-aLXDhK-aLXDdT-aLXCZ8-aLXD4K-46RThp-46kd56-46pjSS-jDh2B3-46kdr8-7h49x-jKBSWG-nswgzX-5qyRsY-83xZ55-6Bkzxe-e8kuVE Wayne Hsieh]''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] When people drive on Interstate 580 near the Bay Bridge and pass the Shellmound St. exit, how many of them are aware of the burial ground they are driving by and probably over? Every year Ohlone descendants and their allies gather at Shellmound Memorial Park on Black Friday to protest the recent desecration of their ancestors’ burial site (E’ville Eye Community News) with the development of the Bay Street Mall over the historic ancestral graveyard known as the Emeryville shellmound.

Native people in the Bay Area continue to resist, a movement galvanized in the 1960s-70s during the Third World Liberation movement. The necessity to protect sacred Ohlone land in the East Bay from development spawned the creation of Indian People Organizing for Change (IPOC). Their efforts to preserve cultural and spiritual identities and defend the sacred nature of land through spiritual walks and encampments can be thought of as an act of self-determination. IPOC’s work responds to centuries of land dispossession, the United States government’s failure to make reparations for the historical displacement of Native Americans, and the lack of United Nations enforcement of international agreements regarding the rights of indigenous people. IPOC’s work also reclaims a spiritual, cultural and communal identity.

For the Ohlone in particular, the [[Searching for the Yelamu in San Francisco|shellmounds were community cemeteries]]. Ohlone and IPOC organizer Corrina Gould clarifies: “Shellmounds are the burial sites of our ancestors. They are not just village sites, but they are always burial sites. There are some villages that didn’t have burials, but all the shellmounds are burial sites. And as the years and centuries went by, these mounds became huge. They became monuments to the people that lived here in the Bay Area.”

Like the fate of many [[Shellmound at San Bruno Mountain|shellmounds in the Bay Area]], the site of the Emeryville shellmound has a long history of having been occupied, used, and abused by non-native communities. During the 20th century, the Emeryville shellmound was bulldozed and eventually flattened by multiple industrial development projects. Most recently, notwithstanding Ohlone historical, cultural, and spiritual ties to the land, the shellmound has become the site of the Bay Street Mall.

The understanding of land as sacred to a community—and its dispossession—is an environmental justice issue. The Native American relationship to other living organisms is a spiritual, symbiotic one based on the understanding that we share Earth, as opposed to a possessive, economic, extractive, and destructive relationship with the fruits and diversity of this planet. In the words of Christopher Vecsey:

Indians found their world filled with special spots where power for life was concentrated. These locales were sacred, and they desired to live close to them, where the spirits of nature most often revealed themselves... where their myths took place, where the nature deities were helpful, where conditions for subsistence were optimum. (1980, 25)

According to Luan Marks, “There are immense gaps between those that find the World sacred and those who do not. Sacred Lands and places have been and continue to be destroyed and damaged, despite continued protests. Closing the gap and defending the sacred Lands and Places are monumental tasks“ (Marks 2). In the case of the Emeryville shellmound, the Bay Area Native American community rallied to the defense of the Ohlone and to oppose further economic development of the land.

This urgent need to defend and restore sacred sites for community use is what brought Indian People Organizing for Change (IPOC) together. Stephanie Manning was a preservationist with Berkeley Architectural Heritage when, in the course of her research, she was approached by her neighbor, a UC Berkeley archaeology student, who shared a study with her that had been done in the site of Spenger’s parking lot. The archaeological dig reported that there had been a shellmound on the site and that it was used as a burial site. Stephanie’s interest was piqued, and, due to the ongoing plans for a parking structure to be built there, she was anxious to garner public support. Yet mobilizing supporters proved to be more difficult than she imagined. Even working alongside the International Treaty Council few people stepped forward to help. Stephanie started “The Shellmounder” newsletter as a way of outreach to the larger Native American community. She met Corrina, Johnella, and Perry at Emeryville city council meetings. Corrina Gould & Johnella LaRose found out about bodies being dug up at the Emeryville construction site through their connection with the Inter-Tribal Friendship House, a community space they worked with to preserve Indian identity and culture. Perry, Stephanie, Corina, and Johnella then went on to establish Indian People Organizing for Change (IPOC), an organization which has brought together a community of American Indians as well as non-American Indians to advocate for “social and environmental justice within the Bay Area American Indian community” (Indian People Organizing for Change).

IPOC was created in 1999 with a grant from the Catholic Campaign for Human Development (LaRose). The Community Mobilization Project and the Bay Area Native American community were the primary actors behind the formation of IPOC. IPOC directly addresses the long history of appropriation and destruction of Native American land, culture, means of self-governance, and general way of life, compounded with relocation initiatives imposed by the federal government. The goal of IPOC from the beginning has been to strengthen the connection between American Indians and their traditional culture(s) in ways which fulfill the need to belong to an affirming community (Gould). The organization operates upon the theory that once the needs of a community are met, the community becomes self-sufficient and is then able to support other communities in organizing (Gould). The organizing for sacred land preservation was and continues to be one way in which IPOC works towards achieving these goals.

As a solution-oriented organization the group functions as the eyes and ears of the community, providing an open forum for Indian people to voice concerns and come up with solutions. The organization’s earlier methods of tracking community concerns included making house calls, or door-to-door visits, in which a pair of IPOC members would speak with Native American residents. Taking a page from Cesar Chavez’s farmworker organizing history, IPOC sought to engage community members first and then develop solutions to problems. This approach turns upside down the traditional top-down model of community development and organizing (LaRose).

IPOC also promoted leadership skill development to educate community members about the concepts of sovereignty, self-definition and self-sufficiency. The organization also held monthly gatherings to develop outreach for Indian veterans while also organizing youth to practice outreach with the homeless (LaRose).

In 2005 Corrina had dreams about her ancestors which became the inspiration for IPOC’s involvement in a series of walks for the shellmounds from 2005 to 2009 (Manning). The walks sought to raise awareness about the importance of the sites and why land preservation was so critical. The protection of land is tied directly to the preservation of American-Indian culture and identity as well as honoring the ancestors who have been buried there. In this sense, having the space to practice one’s culture reinforces the identity of the practitioner.

'''Sogorea Te/Glen Cove 2011'''

Following their earlier shellmound walks, IPOC organized an 109-day occupation and spiritual encampment at Sogorea Te, also known as Glen Cove, on April 14th 2011. The objective of the occupation was to prevent the Greater Vallejo Recreation District from constructing a parking lot and grazing the land. IPOC was able to reach an agreement with the district on the conditions of development. “It originally started off as a 15-space parking lot with overhead lights and we were able to change it to only 2 handicapped spaces with no lights, but when they built it they added in an extra 6 car spaces. Also, we were able to negotiate the material that was used for the pavement, allowing animals to cross more safely” (LaRose).

IPOC’s Sogorea Te occupation remains highly significant for its participants as a means of re-establishing identity through the reclamation of space and history. According to Barbara Voss, “Collective and individual identities are formed in part through patterns of bodily movements that generate knowledge of one’s place in the world and one’s relationship to the social order. Feelings of being “lost,” and “out of place,” or in the right place are practical expressions of this knowledge. Power is thus often materialized through control of space and bodily movement” (Voss, 148). IPOC’s occupation of Sogorea Te challenged the ways in which colonization had transformed spatial relations for over 200 years. The occupied space at Sogorea Te affirmed the IPOC community’s collective identity, fostering a sense of belonging and empowerment among participants.

Those who participated in the occupation spoke of dreams transmitted from the ancestors and appearances of protective spirits. According to one participant, “One day I was in so much pain, I really wanted to cry...and I felt a hand touch me on the shoulder and I looked back and there was nobody there, but my leg started feeling better and I could make it through the night...it was really powerful, it was very spiritual” (Bear Warrior).

At the annual anniversary of the occupation participants shared stories, rooted in a newfound sense of purpose and community for its members and participants:

...So that’s how I began to make my connection to the land…just being part of my culture...learning from each other. Everybody began to grow into their role in the community—it was a beautiful experience... [On] the land out here [we] walked on it with no separation—no cities, no buildings, nothing to block us from our connection with the land and that’s where I think the knowledge and wisdom of how to be with one another is embedded in the land (Luta, community member).

Barbara Voss understands that it is “through bodily movement that people are capable of transforming their world by taking social action, for the meaning of a place is produced through the interactions and activities that occur there.” (Voss, 2008) By interrupting the landscape of Sogorea Te for those 109 days, IPOC members combated the false narrative of Ohlone extinction, while simultaneously fighting to preserve and repossess their culture, land, history and identity in the process. According to IPOC founding member Corina Gould, “We all became human again.” (Gould)

'''Notes'''

"[http://bayradical.blogspot.com/2007/11/shellmound.html Bay Radical]." : The Shellmound. N.p., Nov.-Dec. 2007. Web. 16 May 2014.

Bear Warrior, Personal interview.

Gould, Personal interview.

[http://ipocshellmoundwalk.homestead.com/index.html Indian People Organizing for Change], 1 Jan. 2010. Web. 1 Apr. 2014.

LaRose, Personal interview. .

Luta, Personal interview. .

Manning, Personal interview. .

Marks, Luan F.M. Natures of the Sacred: On Native North American Sacred Lands and Places. Diss. California Institute of Integral Studies, 2007. San Francisco, CA. Print.

Vecsey, Christopher. 1980. American Indian Environmental religions. In Vecsey and Venables 1980, 1-37.

Voss, Barbara L. The Archaeology of Ethnogenesis: Race and Sexuality in Colonial San Francisco. Berkeley: U of California, 2008. Print.

[[Category: Bay Area Social Movements]] [[Category: Cemeteries]] [[Category: Dissent]] [[Category: Indigenous]] [[Category: 1990s]] [[Category: 2000s]] [[Category: 2010s]]

Indian People Organzing for Change (IPOC) and the Sogorea Te Occupation

2014-08-20T23:10:28Z

Mfriedman: Adding page

''' Historical Essay '''

''Written by George Cheng, Mayra Herrera, Paula Kahn, So Jeong Yoon with Marissa Friedman and Chris Carlsson, August 2014''

[[Image:8168654433 9a27fac52a z.jpg]]

'''A small monument built at the Bay Street Mall in Emeryville, California, as a symbolic compensation to the Ohlone who originally inhabited the site and built the shellmound which remains buried under the shopping center.'''

''Photo by Wayne Hsleh''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] When people drive on Interstate 580 near the Bay Bridge and pass the Shellmound St. exit, how many of them are aware of the burial ground they are driving by and probably over? Every year Ohlone descendants and their allies gather at Shellmound Memorial Park on Black Friday to protest the recent desecration of their ancestors’ burial site (E’ville Eye Community News) with the development of the Bay Street Mall over the historic ancestral graveyard known as the Emeryville shellmound.

Native people in the Bay Area continue to resist, a movement galvanized in the 1960s-70s during the Third World Liberation movement. The necessity to protect sacred Ohlone land in the East Bay from development spawned the creation of Indian People Organizing for Change (IPOC). Their efforts to preserve cultural and spiritual identities and defend the sacred nature of land through spiritual walks and encampments can be thought of as an act of self-determination. IPOC’s work responds to centuries of land dispossession, the United States government’s failure to make reparations for the historical displacement of Native Americans, and the lack of United Nations enforcement of international agreements regarding the rights of indigenous people. IPOC’s work also reclaims a spiritual, cultural and communal identity.

For the Ohlone in particular, the shellmounds were community cemeteries (see [[Searching for the Yelamu in San Francisco]]). Ohlone and IPOC organizer Corrina Gould clarifies: “Shellmounds are the burial sites of our ancestors. They are not just village sites, but they are always burial sites. There are some villages that didn’t have burials, but all the shellmounds are burial sites. And as the years and centuries went by, these mounds became huge. They became monuments to the people that lived here in the Bay Area.”

Like the fate of many shellmounds in the Bay Area (see [[Shellmound at San Bruno Mountain]]), the site of the Emeryville shellmound has a long history of having been occupied, used, and abused by non-native communities. During the 20th century, the Emeryville shellmound was bulldozed and eventually flattened by multiple industrial development projects. Most recently, notwithstanding Ohlone historical, cultural, and spiritual ties to the land, the shellmound has become the site of the Bay Street Mall.

The understanding of land as sacred to a community—and its dispossession—is an environmental justice issue. The Native American relationship to other living organisms is a spiritual, symbiotic one based on the understanding that we share Earth, as opposed to a possessive, economic, extractive, and destructive relationship with the fruits and diversity of this planet. In the words of Christopher Vecsey:

Indians found their world filled with special spots where power for life was concentrated. These locales were sacred, and they desired to live close to them, where the spirits of nature most often revealed themselves... where their myths took place, where the nature deities were helpful, where conditions for subsistence were optimum. (1980, 25)

According to Luan Marks, “There are immense gaps between those that find the World sacred and those who do not. Sacred Lands and places have been and continue to be destroyed and damaged, despite continued protests. Closing the gap and defending the sacred Lands and Places are monumental tasks“ (Marks 2). In the case of the Emeryville shellmound, the Bay Area Native American community rallied to the defense of the Ohlone and to oppose further economic development of the land.

This urgent need to defend and restore sacred sites for community use is what brought Indian People Organizing for Change (IPOC) together. Stephanie Manning was a preservationist with Berkeley Architectural Heritage when, in the course of her research, she was approached by her neighbor, a UC Berkeley archaeology student, who shared a study with her that had been done in the site of Spenger’s parking lot. The archaeological dig reported that there had been a shellmound on the site and that it was used as a burial site. Stephanie’s interest was piqued, and, due to the ongoing plans for a parking structure to be built there, she was anxious to garner public support. Yet mobilizing supporters proved to be more difficult than she imagined. Even working alongside the International Treaty Council few people stepped forward to help. Stephanie started “The Shellmounder” newsletter as a way of outreach to the larger Native American community. She met Corrina, Johnella, and Perry at Emeryville city council meetings. Corrina Gould & Johnella LaRose found out about bodies being dug up at the Emeryville construction site through their connection with the Inter-Tribal Friendship House, a community space they worked with to preserve Indian identity and culture. Perry, Stephanie, Corina, and Johnella then went on to establish Indian People Organizing for Change (IPOC), an organization which has brought together a community of American Indians as well as non-American Indians to advocate for “social and environmental justice within the Bay Area American Indian community” (Indian People Organizing for Change).

IPOC was created in 1999 with a grant from the Catholic Campaign for Human Development (LaRose). The Community Mobilization Project and the Bay Area Native American community were the primary actors behind the formation of IPOC. IPOC directly addresses the long history of appropriation and destruction of Native American land, culture, means of self-governance, and general way of life, compounded with relocation initiatives imposed by the federal government. The goal of IPOC from the beginning has been to strengthen the connection between American Indians and their traditional culture(s) in ways which fulfill the need to belong to an affirming community (Gould). The organization operates upon the theory that once the needs of a community are met, the community becomes self-sufficient and is then able to support other communities in organizing (Gould). The organizing for sacred land preservation was and continues to be one way in which IPOC works towards achieving these goals.

As a solution-oriented organization the group functions as the eyes and ears of the community, providing an open forum for Indian people to voice concerns and come up with solutions. The organization’s earlier methods of tracking community concerns included making house calls, or door-to-door visits, in which a pair of IPOC members would speak with Native American residents. Taking a page from Cesar Chavez’s farmworker organizing history, IPOC sought to engage community members first and then develop solutions to problems. This approach turns upside down the traditional top-down model of community development and organizing (LaRose).

IPOC also promoted leadership skill development to educate community members about the concepts of sovereignty, self-definition and self-sufficiency. The organization also held monthly gatherings to develop outreach for Indian veterans while also organizing youth to practice outreach with the homeless (LaRose).

In 2005 Corrina had dreams about her ancestors which became the inspiration for IPOC’s involvement in a series of walks for the shellmounds from 2005 to 2009 (Manning). The walks sought to raise awareness about the importance of the sites and why land preservation was so critical. The protection of land is tied directly to the preservation of American-Indian culture and identity as well as honoring the ancestors who have been buried there. In this sense, having the space to practice one’s culture reinforces the identity of the practitioner.

'''Sogorea Te/Glen Cove 2011'''

Following their earlier shellmound walks, IPOC organized an 109-day occupation and spiritual encampment at Sogorea Te, also known as Glen Cove, on April 14th 2011. The objective of the occupation was to prevent the Greater Vallejo Recreation District from constructing a parking lot and grazing the land. IPOC was able to reach an agreement with the district on the conditions of development. “It originally started off as a 15-space parking lot with overhead lights and we were able to change it to only 2 handicapped spaces with no lights, but when they built it they added in an extra 6 car spaces. Also, we were able to negotiate the material that was used for the pavement, allowing animals to cross more safely” (LaRose).

IPOC’s Sogorea Te occupation remains highly significant for its participants as a means of re-establishing identity through the reclamation of space and history. According to Barbara Voss, “Collective and individual identities are formed in part through patterns of bodily movements that generate knowledge of one’s place in the world and one’s relationship to the social order. Feelings of being “lost,” and “out of place,” or in the right place are practical expressions of this knowledge. Power is thus often materialized through control of space and bodily movement” (Voss, 148). IPOC’s occupation of Sogorea Te challenged the ways in which colonization had transformed spatial relations for over 200 years. The occupied space at Sogorea Te affirmed the IPOC community’s collective identity, fostering a sense of belonging and empowerment among participants.

Those who participated in the occupation spoke of dreams transmitted from the ancestors and appearances of protective spirits. According to one participant, “One day I was in so much pain, I really wanted to cry...and I felt a hand touch me on the shoulder and I looked back and there was nobody there, but my leg started feeling better and I could make it through the night...it was really powerful, it was very spiritual” (Bear Warrior).

At the annual anniversary of the occupation participants shared stories, rooted in a newfound sense of purpose and community for its members and participants:

...So that’s how I began to make my connection to the land…just being part of my culture...learning from each other. Everybody began to grow into their role in the community—it was a beautiful experience... [On] the land out here [we] walked on it with no separation—no cities, no buildings, nothing to block us from our connection with the land and that’s where I think the knowledge and wisdom of how to be with one another is embedded in the land (Luta, community member).

Barbara Voss understands that it is “through bodily movement that people are capable of transforming their world by taking social action, for the meaning of a place is produced through the interactions and activities that occur there.” (Voss, 2008) By interrupting the landscape of Sogorea Te for those 109 days, IPOC members combated the false narrative of Ohlone extinction, while simultaneously fighting to preserve and repossess their culture, land, history and identity in the process. According to IPOC founding member Corina Gould, “We all became human again.” (Gould)

'''Notes'''

"Bay Radical." : The Shellmound. N.p., Nov.-Dec. 2007. Web. 16 May 2014. <http://bayradical.blogspot.com/2007/11/shellmound.html>.

Bear Warrior, George/Mayra. Personal interview. .

Gould, George/Mayra. Personal interview. .

Indian People Organizing for Change, 1 Jan. 2010. Web. 1 Apr. 2014. <http://ipocshellmoundwalk.homestead.com/index.html.>

LaRose, George/Mayra. Personal interview. .

Luta, George/Mayra. Personal interview. .

Manning, George/Mayra. Personal interview. .

Marks, Luan F.M. Natures of the Sacred: On Native North American Sacred Lands and Places. Diss. California Institute of Integral Studies, 2007. San Francisco, CA. Print.

Vecsey, Christopher. 1980. American Indian Environmental religions. In Vecsey and Venables 1980, 1-37.

Voss, Barbara L. The Archaeology of Ethnogenesis: Race and Sexuality in Colonial San Francisco. Berkeley: U of California, 2008. Print.

[[Category: Bay Area Social Movements]] [[Category: Cemeteries]] [[Category: Dissent]] [[Category: Indigenous]] [[Category: 1990s]] [[Category: 2000s]] [[Category: 2010s]]

File:8168654433 9a27fac52a z.jpg

2014-08-20T22:50:29Z

Mfriedman:

APEN - The Laotian Organizing Project

2014-08-06T23:44:00Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' Historical Essay '''

''by Stephanie Giles, Jerilyn Wu, Ji-Yoon Han with Maribeth Côté and Marissa Friedman, July 2014''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]]

In 1991, the First National People of Color Environmental Leadership Summit in Washington DC brought together community leaders of color from across the country to discuss the issue of environmental racism. This event is considered to be an important early milestone for the emergence of the environmental justice (EJ) movement. Despite having 350 grassroots leaders from across the U.S. attend the conference, only a handful of organizers represented the Asian Pacific Islander (API) community. This small group of API delegates (many of which were from the SF Bay Area), recognized the lack of Asian representation at the Summit and came together to discuss the need to establish a network to represent API community interests in environmental issues.

Building upon this collaboration at the Summit, a small group of passionate Bay Area organizers set out to create the Asian Pacific Environmental Organization (APEN) in 1993. Over the next two decades, APEN would establish itself as one of the most respected and effective API-focused environmental justice organizations in the United States. APEN’s initial vision was to build a united network of grassroots organizations in API communities which focused on environmental justice issues within a larger multi-racial movement (Kong & Chiang, 2001, 3). According to founding member Francis Calpotura, APEN did not evolve in a traditional or “organic” sense. Instead of organizing in order to combat a specific problem, APEN started with theoretical frameworks and sought to find problems in the community that aligned to the organization’s ideology. They saw that base building was therefore a way for APEN to start “where people were at” in terms of engaging with people around the conditions of their daily lives. This approach led APEN to launch local organizing projects in Richmond and Oakland, California.

<iframe src="https://archive.org/embed/VivianChangAPEN1Min4Secs" width="500" height="30" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen="true" mozallowfullscreen="true" allowfullscreen></iframe>

'''Vivian Chang, APEN Co-founder, discusses APEN's early efforts to organize community. Interviewed in May 2014'''

Located in West Contra Costa County, Richmond has long been recognized as a toxic “hot spot.” According to Maria Kong and Pamela Chiang, “Over 350 industrial facilities encircle Richmond, including hazardous waste incinerators, oil refineries (such as the Chevron plant, one of the major polluters in the San Francisco Bay Area), dry cleaners, pesticide, fertilizer, and other petroleum-based chemical manufacturers. Many of these industries closely neighbor schools and homes. According to a 1989 report by Communities for a Better Environment, at least 210 different hazardous chemicals are stored and/or released into the Richmond environment.In a pattern consistent with established findings about the disproportionate impact of environmental hazards on communities of color, it is mostly low-income African Americans, Latinos, and a growing but hidden population of Asians and Pacific Islanders who live in the heart of this toxic area. Among the most vulnerable are Laotians, who are further economically and politically marginalized due to their linguistic and cultural isolation and lack of access to information, services, and decision-makers as a refugee community" (Kong and Chiang, 2001). While APEN initially focused on small-scale initiatives targeting local problems such as lead paints, subsistence fishing, and toxics, the organization still envisioned creating a larger impact with greater community building and engagement. So in 1995, APEN formed the Laotian Organizing Project (LOP) with its primary mission to build political and activist capacity and leadership among adult Laotian refugees living in Richmond (LOP: 2005, 3).

<iframe src="https://archive.org/embed/PamelaChangEdited01" width="500" height="30" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen="true" mozallowfullscreen="true" allowfullscreen></iframe>

'''Pamela Chang discusses Laotian community and APEN organizing.'''

LOP’s efforts to organize the Laotian community in Richmond, however, were met with many challenges and they soon understood the importance of establishing trust, building inclusive leadership, and crossing generational boundaries in order to be effective in the community. LOP organizer, May Phan, explains how organizing the Laotian community was their first major challenge because the majority of the community members were “people who came from war country…so it has been difficult for them; [finding people] who they feel they can trust and can work with, and can talk openly with” (LOP: 2005, 1). With these histories of trauma, immigration, ethnic and tribal diversity, and language barriers, LOP understood the need to have a go-slow approach and connect with established community leaders to bring diverse populations together for a common cause.

[[Image:Chevron Refinery Fire from Albany Bulb 6 aug 2012-Michael Moore.jpg]]

'''Chevron Oil Refinery Explosion August 2012'''

''Photo: Michael Moore''

LOP’s first major success came in their grassroots campaign against the Chevron Oil Refinery explosion that occurred in Richmond in 1991. The chemical explosion was followed by two consecutive leaks, which directly impacted the environments and daily life of Richmond community members; because they could not leave their homes due to the pollution, residents limited English-speaking residents and children (LOP: 2005, 2). In response to this, the Laotian were prevented from attending school or work. This incident revealed Contra Costa County’s inadequate emergency response system and the daily health risks faced by residents living in this industrial zone. Many of the residents in the area were poorly informed of emergency safety procedures including the “shelter-in-place” information, and among those most impacted were Organizing Project launched a successful campaign targeting Contra Costa County’s Health Services and the Internal Operations Committee of Contra Costa County’s Board of Supervisors in order to set up a city-wide phone alert system that would provide immigrants information in the event of another catastrophic industrial accident in their native language (LOP: 2005, 2).

<iframe src="https://archive.org/embed/APENCalpotura" width="640" height="480" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen="true" mozallowfullscreen="true" allowfullscreen></iframe>

'''Francis Calpotura on identity and environmental justice.'''

''Video by Stephanie Giles, Jerilyn Wu, Ji-Yoon Han''

The success of this campaign did much more then provide a sense of security to the Laotian neighborhood. It helped to create a bridge from the Asian Pacific Islanders to the political and business leaders in the community. Over the years this connection has strengthened, and the Laotians’ voice in their community has grown louder (LOP: 2005, 2). Since successfully starting the first multi-lingual warning system in 2005, LOP has also stopped the expansion of the Chevron Oil Refinery, provided multi-lingual information on proposition votes, and in 2012 helped pass the Richmond General Plan which will help address issues of housing, transportation, community land use, and economic development. (United States Environmental Protection Agency).

'''Notes''' 

“Developing Leadership and Political Capacity Among Laotian Refugees” ''Laotian Organizing Project''. LOP, (2005): 1-5. Web.

Kong, Maria, and Pamela Chiang. ''Fighting Fire with Fire: Lessons for the Laotian Organizing Project's First Campaign''. Rep. Oakland, California: LOP/APEN, 2001. Print.

[http://www.epa.gov/region9/ej/apen.html United State Environmental Protection Agency]. 2014.

[[category:2000s]] [[category:Laotian]] [[category:Ecology]] [[category:Corporations]] [[Category:Housing]] [[Category:Immigration]] [[Category:Racism]] [[Category:Redevelopment]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

I-Hotel Eviction Summary

2014-08-06T23:42:43Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' Historical Essay '''

''by James Sobredo''

[[Image:Ihotel-w-pyramid-behind-by-Chris-Huie.jpg|720px]]

'''The International Hotel on Kearny Street was the last part of Manilatown.'''

''Photo: Chris Huie''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]]

[[Image:filipin1$i-hotel-exterior.jpg|left|photo by Eddie Foronda]] After battling eviction proceedings for over nine years, this community of ''manongs'' and poetry was brought to a violent end in the early morning hours of August 4, 1977. At around 4 a.m., over 300 riot-equipped police and sheriffs deputies cordoned off the surrounding streets, encircled the Hotel, and began their assault on 3000 community activists and protesters.

The police came down Kearny Street, with horses and police cars -- "it was like the Roman legions," recalls De Guzman. The police did not go through the front door. Instead, they used extension ladders on fire trucks to climb up to the top floors and fight through a group of I-Hotel defenders. Sheriff Richard Hongisto, who had spent five days in jail for refusing to enforce the eviction court order, led the assault. Hongisto, who would run unsuccessfully for mayor in 1992, was featured in the pages of the ''San Francisco Chronicle'' and ''San Francisco Examiner'' using a sledge hammer to break down tenants' doors.

De Guzman, then the president of the International Hotel Tenants Association, described what happened: "Once the police and sheriffs got into the building, they broke into the tenants' rooms. Then they started breaking things up, stealing, taking what the ''manongs'' had, broke the toilets that way there were no toilet facilities, so the tenants could never return." The ''Examiner'' featured a photograph of De Guzman being dragged out by deputies in riot gear.

Meanwhile, in [[I-Hotel Eviction Eyewitness Account|front of the hotel]], over 2000 community activists and protesters had locked arms in a nonviolent attempt to prevent the police from entering the building. Shouting "We won't move!" I-Hotel defenders lined up nine rows deep as the police started their frontal assault. The police were brutalizing people outside in front of the hotel, said De Guzman. They would run their horses up front and hit people with their clubs. They just tore people up, hitting them on the head, and jabbing them with night-sticks.

[[Image:filipin1$fall-of-i-hotel.jpg|left|'''The "Fall of the I-Hotel" is a movie about the fight for the Hotel.''' ''Image: Curtis Choy'']] Escorted by two I-Hotel activists, Felix Ayson, a 79-year-old Filipino who could no longer walk or hear, was one of the last people to leave the I-Hotel. As he left with the assistance of two hotel supporters, Ayson told an ''Examiner'' reporter: "I think my end is very near from this beautiful world."

The eviction of the International Hotel tenants made the national news, and cost the City over $3 million and a lot of bad publicity. The eviction outraged the nation. Concerned over the forced eviction of poor elderly citizens, Senator Frank Church of the Senate's Committee on Aging sent a delegation to investigate the incident.

Nearly 20 years after the forced eviction, the City of San Francisco, with the help of federal funding, will begin construction in the summer of 1997 of a $20 million, 15-story, 104-unit building. After years of continued advocacy by I-Hotel community activists, this New I-Hotel will provide affordable housing for senior citizens, newly arrived immigrants, and low-income San Franciscans. The [[Rebuilding of International Hotel Encounters Problems|proposed building]] will also have a Filipino Community Center, Museum and Exhibition Hall, and a four-story St. Mary's Chinese Elementary School.

''--James Sobredo, Fall 1997, excerpted from "From Manila Bay to Daly City: Filipinos in San Francisco" in ''Reclaiming San Francisco: History, Politics, and Culture'', A City Lights Anthology''

<hr>

[[Image:Tours-redev.gif|link=Looking Back a Quarter-Century in 1976]] [[Looking Back a Quarter-Century in 1976| Continue Redevelopment Tour]]

[[DALY CITY: THE NEW FILIPINOTOWN | Prev. Document]] [[Rebuilding of International Hotel Encounters Problems | Next Document]]

[[category:Filipino]][[category:Chinatown]] [[category:North Beach]] [[category:1970s]][[category:Housing]] [[category:redevelopment]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

Tracy Sims and the 1964 Civil Rights Protests

2014-08-06T23:40:57Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' Historical Essay '''

''Originally titled “Tracy Sims or the Necessary Devil”

''By Stephen Vincent, July, 1964''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] It is difficult to generalize about the participants in the [[Segregation and the Civil Rights Movement in San Francisco|Civil Rights demonstrations]] that have taken place in San Francisco this past spring and during the recent Republican convention. The direct-action projects taken against the Hotel Employer’s Association, the automobile agencies, Bank of America, and the Republican platform, whether led by C.O.R.E., the NAACP, or the Ad Hoc Committee to End Discrimination, have drawn people from most colors and walks of life.

However, in spite of the fact that it is difficult to generalize about the majority of the participants, the leadership and its most dedicated following hardly bear much likeness to either the ''Ebony'' or the ''Life'' magazine image of the middle class Negro or his white counterpart. Frequently, newspaper editorials describe these young men and women as “disgusting,” “beatniks,” “filthy,” and “unemployable.” And, in a way, it is true that the militant, irreverent, and unconventionality garbed character of the hard core demonstrator would make him unqualified for a position as bank teller, car salesman, or hotel clerk. And, in general, the white community, instead of looking on these people as peaceful agents of a long overdue change, look upon them almost as if they were a source of some great mythological danger. Certainly it is a fear that has been made definitely concrete in the current court handling of over five hundred cases of civil disobedience. On charges of trespassing and disturbing the peace, these participants have received up to nine month sentences, two hundred dollar fines, and stiff probation restrictions about further involvement in Civil Rights demonstrations.

[[Image:Tracy Sims walking the picket line at Bank of America May 25 1964 MOR-0399.jpg|left|thumb|240px|'''Tracy Sims walking the picket line at Bank of America, May 25, 1964;''' ''Photo: San Francisco History Center, SF Public Library'']] Tracy Sims, a nineteen-year-old Negro girl who is chairman of the Ad Hoc Committee, does much to create this terror, or at least strong quivery, in the white community. Though Bill Bradley of C.O.R.E. and Dr. Nathaniel Burbridge of the NAACP are strong leaders, Tracy definitely gives the movement its mystique and perhaps its most powerful tool of change. She is not only a kind of born leader, capable of sensing and commanding the attention of a large group of people, both black and white, but she seems to have an intuitive grasp of the secret weaknesses of the white power structure and its particular psyche. She comes not only armed with the necessary statistics to approach blatant cases of unfair hiring practices, she is endowed with something else; that is, she is an articulate black woman with a strong touch of the "poet as devil". And it is a touch strong enough to make the courts of San Francisco want to keep her in jail for the next two years.

However, Tracy is no easy devil to describe. In appearance she is a short, hefty girl with a face that is not so beautiful as it is capable of a quick variety of moods and expressions that range from that of the innocent child, to a deep anger, to a kind of adult hymnal leftiness. On picket lines it is a face given added strength by her rough attire. She is usually dressed in leather boots, dark toreador pants, a tough suede jacket, and a silk scarf.

Her manners suggest a cross between the Negro of the northern ghetto and a Negro of the southern church. That is, she seems to combine both a certain unspoiled religiosity of the south and the often defensive ways and walks of the northern ghetto. Side by side within her there is, one senses, both the southern hymn and the sounds of the local rhythm and blues station. Without self-consciously verbalizing it, she seems to express everything of what black nationalists or separatists now frequently celebrate as “soul.” And it is perhaps the lack of this particular kind of self-consciousness, combined with a large sense of "join me" generosity that enables her to attract a large number of white people.

[[Image:C.O.R.E. sergeant Tracy Sims with crowd demonstrating outside the gates of the S.F. County Jail June 5 1964 AAK-0890.jpg|right|330px|thumb|'''Tracy Sims demonstrating outide gates of SF County Jail, June 5, 1964;''' ''Photo: San Francisco History Center, SF Public Library'']] However, the popular expression “to the nitty-gritty” perhaps says the most about Tracy’s character. In a way she represents a life that is both unafraid and undeceived by the rationalizations and the often cunning appearances of the white world. In fact, she is notorious for refusing to submit to their game. Last April, when she and some friends were arrested on a somewhat dubious curfew charge, the police and the newspapers were quite sensitive to how she verbally tore into the cops who made the arrests. It is only representative of her compulsive knack to get right down to the real, or the “nitty-gritty,” and say how it really is.

In turn, this background and character contribute to a special kind of picket line when led by Tracy. That is, she, or her rapidly growing group of both black and white imitators, give such a line a certain tone and rhythm. There is the offbeat clap of hands, the snaking two step, or lope step, and the often religious tone of the freedom song becomes biting and militant. And a walking that is often sheer drudgery becomes spirited, sharp and penetrating. Indeed, one thinks twice when Tracy, who has a powerful voice, leads the chorus, “God gave Noah the rainbow sign, no more water, the first next time!”

[[Image:Cadillac dealership August 1964 AAD-4658.jpg|left|240px|thumb|'''Cadillac dealership, August 1964;''' ''Photo: San Francisco History Center, SF Public Library'']] The “nitty-gritty” quality of Tracy Sims and such a picket line, of course, runs deeply counter to the artifice that forms the façade of the operation of the Bank of America, the Sheraton-Palace, or the Cadillac Agency. Yet, strangely enough, it is perhaps this very quality that has succeeded in providing more job openings for Negroes in the last six months, than has twenty years of well-dressed successful black men either begging or arguing with members of the white power structure to help train and give their people jobs. Whether consciously or not, Tracy Sims seems to know a few things about how to handle those white men that her black fathers do not.

On the one hand, she certainly knows that white businessmen are obviously not by nature inclined to change. Regardless of statistical arguments about the cost of supporting Negroes on unemployment and social welfare, and the cost of taking care of Negroes in prison and juvenile centers, these men are reluctant to transform their hiring practices on anything except a token level. Whatever their excuse, they are afraid to take the initiative on their own accord. If the situation were different, changes would have started taking place a hundred years ago.

Yet, on the other hand, Tracy appears to have an intuitive awareness of the very weakness within the white establishment that can create a positive change. In her own special way, or the way of "the devil", she knows how to threaten to pull the keystone out of the arch in spite of the apparent strength of the powers that be. And it is this knowledge, or power, that has made her become the devil of the white community, and makes its public breathe with relief each time she is sentenced anew for forty-five or ninety days for trespassing or disturbing the peace.

[[Image:Picketers demonstrating in Hall of Justice corridor Nov 4 1963 AAK-0878.jpg]]

'''Tracy Sims, center left, in midst of demonstration in Hall of Justice corridor, November 4, 1963.'''

''Photo: San Francisco History Center, SF Public Library''

This power, though often sensed and feared about the girl, does not often come into full play. In a way, it seems to be held back, ominous and reserved, and serves its purpose in that way by its potential instead of its use. Yet, occasionally, it reveals itself and its possible effect. Once, for example, it became terribly present right after a picket line in front of the Chrysler Automobile Agency.

Tracy had led the line for an hour and a half. It had been a spirited one, full of a variety of songs and a quick, energetic step. For the duration of the picketing, a salesman watched the action through the front window where his desk was placed. He represented the epitome of the would-be Aryan, with his direct cold blue eyes and his blond hair combed straight back. Most of the time he stood with one foot on his chair, leaned forward on his elbow, and stared. His only purpose was apparently to intimidate; however, as it happened, the intimidation was a little more than reciprocal.

Behind the salesman, at a desk farther back in the showroom, was a newly hired Negro. He was dressed, as the rest of the men were, in a neat suit; he appeared to be somewhat nervously relaxed. (The picket line had stopped all business.) On the surface, there was no “soul,” rhythm and blues, or anything “nitty-gritty” about him, just a difference of color. Tracy, however, was dressed in a black Frisco working pants and a Hickory shirt, a garb much similar to what the garbage man usually wears.

At six o’clock, when the circular line broke up, she continued the feeling and the offbeat movement of the walk. By chance she was parallel to the blond salesman behind the window. Snapping her fingers, she turned on him with a back and forward snake step and kept humming the remains of the last freedom song. The salesman, momentarily paralyzed, physically cringed and turned away, much in the way many white people do when they are first confronted with the voice of Ray Charles.

In short, it was intimidation, but not a simple kind of intimidation. It is perhaps too easy to say that Tracy plays upon or depends upon the sexual paranoia of the white man in the face of the Negro. However, it is perhaps true that she is able to return and enforce all those myths that have been invented by the white males and females about the Negro woman. She has the kind of attitude, I think, that says, “If they say we got rhythm, let’s show them we got rhythm.” What some white people have created at the expense of the loss of their own sense of rhythm, she brings or threatens to bring right back into their own being. And if these men of the white power structure still refuse to change something as cold and simply objective as a hiring practice, Tracy, as the good devil, makes them pay a crippling price. It’s either join me or fall, there are no “token” in-betweens. Such is her power, and it is this power to cripple or pull the keystone out of the arch that has made much of the white community shiver; but most importantly, it has been a very definite element in making businesses reconsider and change their employment policies.

Such intimidation as a tactic, or Tracy the devil as a tactic, is not so often debated, as secretly felt and perhaps worried about. Even people most committed to progress in Civil Rights can become queasy about her power. Her capacity to taunt, challenge and tease the very core of the problem, makes one paranoiacally wonder if, instead of positive changes, her manner of action could lead the whole structure to crumble, or to wonder whether such a crumbling might not be necessary. Certainly, from the terrifying effect of Tracy, it has become obvious that the white community is going to have to suffer a number of transformations before the possible creation of a genuinely open society. Hopefully, perhaps, the great number of white participants in these demonstrations are indicative of the coming of such a change.

[[Image:Tracy Sims (wearing glasses) in court with her attorneys Malcolm Berstein (left) Beverly Axelrod and Patrick Hallinan MOR-0405.jpg]]

'''Tracy Sims (wearing glasses) in court with her attorneys Malcolm Berstein (left), Beverly Axelrod, and Patrick Hallinan.'''

''Photo: San Francisco History Center, SF Public Library''

[[Image:Tracy Sims in courtroom June 1964 MOR-0403.jpg]]

'''Tracy Sims in courtroom, June 1964.'''

''Photo: San Francisco History Center, SF Public Library''

[[Image:Tracy Sims .jpg|190px|right|thumb|Tracy Sims]] In any case, one can say that up to this point, in spite of the actions of the courts to put Tracy away almost for good, her actions have helped lead to positive and progressive changes in hiring practices, changes that might save San Francisco from the explosions that have taken place recently in Harlem and Rochester, New York. And one must also add that her kind of force can lead to a change of tone and attitude in the hiring of black people. That is, it is possible that the new Negro employee will not have to feel that he has been given a job out of the white man’s missionary pity or charity. Backed by such an outside power, that is in a way similar to a union, he can feel he has a right to a job. And instead of having a sense of self denial, he can have a sense of dignity within his job.

Finally, one can only say that such has been the power of [http://www.blackpast.org/?q=aaw/sims-tracy-1945 Tracy Sims]. It is a difficult position for anyone to hold, let alone a girl who has just turned nineteen. The fact that, at the time of this writing, after having been given a week by the court to visit her mother who is sick in Texas, she has been unable to return for four weeks, perhaps suggests the burden of such a return. One can only hope that the City of San Francisco will come to its senses and begin to make changes of its own accord and allow Tracy, and give the hundred other people who have been arrested and subjected to the indulgences of the courts, return to a sane, hopefully fuller life, free of the need of even such a good devil.

''From an unpublished Master’s Thesis “Poems and Essays: Through the Red Light” submitted to the faculty of San Francisco State College, May 1965.''

[[The Black Press |Prev. Document]] [[Students Confront Race During Birmingham at San Francisco State College, 1963 |Next Document]]

[[category:African-American]] [[category:1960s]] [[category:Western Addition]] [[category:Bayview/Hunter's Point]] [[category:Civic Center]] [[category:racism]][[category:Dissent]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

The Indian Occupation of ALCATRAZ

2014-08-06T23:39:36Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' Historical Essay '''

''by Adam Fortunate Eagle''

[[Image:nativam$alcatraz-teepee.jpg]]

'''A "Teepee" on Alcatraz during the occupation (1969-1971)'''

''Photo: © by Ilka Hartmann''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] <iframe frameborder='0' width='508' height='95' scrolling='no' seamless='yes' name='Alcatraz panel with Indians from various tribes / moderated by John Trudell and John Adair.' src='https://www.popuparchive.org/embed_player/Alcatraz%20panel%20with%20Indians%20from%20various%20tribes%20%2F%20moderated%20by%20John%20Trudell%20and%20John%20Adair%26%2346%3B/9394/6732/925'></iframe>

'''Alcatraz panel with Indians from various tribes / moderated by John Trudell and John Adair. Indians discuss their occupation of Alcatraz. Recorded in 1969.'''

''from Pacifica Archive, via [https://www.popuparchive.org/collections/925/items/6732 Pop-up Archive]''

[http://www.ipoaa.com/images/alcatraz/alcatraz_photo_gallery1.htm From the great gallery of Alcatraz occupation images] at ''Indigenous People of Africa and America'' online magazine:

[[Image:Alcatraz3 gallery24.jpg]]

'''A sign on the Alcatraz landing welcomes arriving Indian people. '''

[[Image:Alcatraz3 gallery19.jpg]]

[[Image:Alcatraz3 gallery23.jpg]]

'''Indian occupiers stand on the dock of Alcatraz Island. Richard Oakes is on the right.'''

[[Image:Alcatraz3 gallery16.jpg]]

'''Indian people sit in the back of a boat leaving for Alcatraz Island. LaNada Boyer, left, talks with Joe Bill, center, and an unidentified man. '''

[[Image:Alcatraz3 gallery14.jpg]]

'''John Trudell speaks with news media representatives regarding negotiations with the federal government for title to Alcatraz Island. Trudell, known as "the voice of Alcatraz," conducted a regular radio program called "Radio Free Alcatraz." '''

[[Image:Radio-free-alcatraz.jpg]]

''On November 9, 1969, about 250 Indians gathered at Fisherman's Wharf to boat over to Alcatraz, formerly a federal penitentiary, and claim it for the Indian people. The arranged boats never appeared, however, and the plan was scuttled. Later that night, though, a group of fourteen Indians successfully landed on Alcatraz Island. It was the second attempt to "take" Alcatraz for the Indian people, but after a day of frantic searching by government officials and the media, they gave themselves up and left the island, planning to negotiate their now-established "squatters' rights." There ensued a government run-around, and by November 20, the Indians were ready to occupy again. About 100 landed on Alcatraz, and this try was to last about 19 months, until June 11, 1971. ''

The occupation had a galvanizing effect on Indians throughout the Bay Area, and ultimately the entire country. Reversing the historic precedent in Manhattan, the Alcatraz warriors offered $24 in beads for the island. The U.S. government, already besieged by urban riots across the land, violent anti-Vietnam War protests, and the exploding social movements that are remembered collectively as the "sixties," imposed a Coast Guard blockade around Alcatraz. A big effort to communicate the Indians' position to the media led to initially sympathetic coverage, and with that help the Alcatraz occupiers received a tremendous outpouring of public support. A number of boaters were willing to run the blockade, and within a few days the government rescinded it.

[[Image:outofsf$alcatraz-occupier.jpg]]

'''Alcatraz [[The Indian Occupation of ALCATRAZ|Occupier]]'''

''Photo: Ilka Hartman''

The Indians on the island did their best to make it livable, although the absence of running water kept them dependent on the mainland support movement. A water barge holding 250,000 gallons maintained their supplies until the Coast Guard towed it away on May 9, 1970. Not long after, the government cut off the electricity to the island, shutting down the lighthouse and foghorn, much to consternation of many San Franciscans.

After the water barge had been gone a few weeks, a terrible fire broke out on June 1, 1970 in two locations at once. It was never determined how these fires started, with both occupiers and government blaming each other, but it led to worse damage than that caused by the biggest prison riot in Alcatraz's history in 1946. ''Chronicle'' editor Scott Newhall, whose apartment overlooked the bay, paid to have the lighthouse and foghorn fixed.

[[Image:outofsf$alcatraz-island-bw.jpg]]

'''Alcatraz Island from the south side.'''

''Photo: Ilka Hartman''

A full year later, July 11, 1971, the Indians had been comfortably living on the island for many months, and only fifteen Indians were there when federal marshals and the Coast Guard arrived to clear Alcatraz of its occupiers. They offered no resistance, and after their removal the U.S. government stationed a contingent of troops to prevent further invasions. A couple of years later Alcatraz became part of Phil Burton's Golden Gate National Recreation Area, and to this day it is a very popular visit for tourists and locals alike.

''--based on Adam Fortunate Eagle's ALCATRAZ! ALCATRAZ! [http://www.heydaybooks.com/ Heyday Books]: Berkeley, CA © 1992''

<iframe src="https://archive.org/embed/Alcatraz40thAnniversaryOfIndigenousOccupation" width="500" height="30" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen="true" mozallowfullscreen="true" allowfullscreen></iframe>

A 40th anniversary discussion of Alcatraz and its aftermath, held in San Francisco, November 11, 2009.

<hr>

[[Image:Tours-dissent.gif|link=SIEGE OF STATE: Firing Point-Blank at San Francisco]] [[SIEGE OF STATE: Firing Point-Blank at San Francisco| Continue Dissent Tour]]

[[FROM ARIZONA TO ALCATRAZ: Hopi prisoners on Alcatraz |Prev. Document]] [[ALCATRAZ Proclamation |Next Document]]

[[category:Indigenous]] [[category:1960s]] [[category:1970s]] [[category:Dissent]] [[category:Fisherman's Wharf]] [[category:San Francisco outside the city]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

The Battle for the International Hotel

2014-08-06T23:37:55Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' Historical Essay '''

''by James Sobredo''

[[Image:Filipin1%24filipino-banquet-1956.jpg]]

'''Above is a scene from a Filipino banquet, c. 1956.'''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]]

[[Image:Filipin1%24i-hotel-demo.jpg|left|A face-off at the I-Hotel, 1970s, photo by Eddie Foronda]] At the very heart of Manilatown was the International Hotel, a three-story, red-brick building at 848 Kearny Street at the corner of Jackson. In the 1970s it also became the most famous residence of Filipinos. The I-Hotel symbolized the Filipino American struggle for identity, self-determination, and civil rights. It was a struggle that involved not only Filipinos but other Asian Americans, African Americans, Mexican Americans, student activists, religious groups and organizations, gays and lesbians, leftists, and community activists.

The eviction was part of a larger development project occurring in the Bay Area. As early as 1946, corporate organizations proposed ambitious urban development projects: organizations such as the Bay Area Council proposed the [[BART: Bechtel's Baby|Bay Area Rapid Transit system]], and the San Francisco Planning and Housing Association proposed neighborhood urban renewal by eliminating urban blight in the Western Division. (Mollenkopf 1983, pp 159-160) Other proposals included building the [[Produce Market|Golden Gateway project]], a series of [[The Freeway Revolt|freeways]] intersecting through San Francisco -- a project rejected by the City -- and the [[TOOR_%28Tenants_and_Owners_in_Opposition_to_Redevelopment%29|Yerba Buena Center]] project, which, when completed, also displaced thousands of residents from South of Market. By the late 1960s, as part of this Manhattanization of San Francisco, the expanding financial district was encroaching on Manilatown and neighboring Chinatown. In the autumn of 1968, Milton Meyer and Company, which owned the hotel, started sending eviction notices to the tenants of the I-Hotel. To my mind, explained Walter Shorenstein, chairman of Milton Meyer, I was getting rid of a slum. (Calvin Trillin, U.S. Journal: San Francisco, Some Thoughts on the International Hotel Controversy, The New Yorker, December 19, 1977) In response, the tenants organized the United Filipino Association (UFA) to battle the eviction.

[[Image:Watering-plants-at-ihotel-by-Chris-Huie.jpg|340px|right|photo by Chris Huie]] Among the earliest Filipino activists working with the I-Hotel was Violeta Marasigan, then a recent graduate of San Francisco State College who was hired as a social worker by the UFA as part of their Multi-Service Center: "When I started working with the old men, I saw that they were discriminated against in terms of their access to social services. A lot of them had been here for over 30 years, but they could still barely speak English or write. These manongs were mostly single retired farmworkers and seamen living on social security retirement benefits." Marasigan, known as Bullet X to her friends, discovered that they were not receiving their full benefits. At that time, when the SSI benefits were around $200 a month for the maximum, Filipinos were only getting around $90 to around $130, recalled Marasigan. None of the Filipinos knew that they were not getting the full benefits due to them. Marasigan accompanied the Filipinos to the SSI office and spoke with their caseworkers. After that, everybody had their full SSI benefits.

The late sixties were the height of the anti-war movement and Third World student strikes at San Francisco State and UC Berkeley. Student activists became among the strongest supporters of the I-Hotel.

Emile De Guzman, a young Filipino student leader of the 1969 Third World Strike at Berkeley, had been working with Pete Velasco, Larry Itliong, Philip Vera Cruz, and other Filipino members of the United Farmworkers Union in Delano. Born and raised in San Francisco, De Guzman grew up visiting Manilatown with his father. When he heard about the eviction notices and the subsequent fire that killed three hotel tenants, he rallied other Berkeley students to protest the eviction: "I got really involved in the I-Hotel and organized students to go down there and picket outside Walter Shorenstein's office."

The International Hotel Tenants Association (ITHA) eventually replaced the UFA, and Filipino student activists like De Guzman assumed the leadership. It was through a coalition of students, tenants, and community activists that the ITHA was able to sign a three-year lease and avoid eviction. In order to avoid further public criticism of his role in the eviction, Shorenstein would sell the hotel to the Four Seas Investment Corporation, a Hong Kong-based company that planned to demolish the building and replace it with further commercial development: an underground parking garage.

It was not just Filipinos, however, who got involved in the I-Hotel struggle. Jean Ishibashi, a third-generation Japanese American born in Chicago, was pregnant at the time but still came to the I-Hotel protests. "For many decades, I carried my family's unspoken anger from eviction and internment," said Ishibashi. "When I learned that elderly Asians who were my father's age were being evicted, I identified with them, and that's why I showed up." For Ishibashi, the I-Hotel symbolized a time when the Asian American community as a whole came together. It was mostly, however, the more progressive and left-leaning members of Asian America.

Elderly Chinese also resided in the I-Hotel. The Asian Community Center and the Chinese Progressive Association were located in the I-Hotel. Both organization strongly supported mainland China and Chairman Mao Zedong's Communist government, and this conflicted with the Chinatown leadership, who supported the Koumintang Government (KMT) in Taiwan. This was also part of the continuing attacks against the I-Hotel, said De Guzman. The Chinese leftist organizations would always show a lot of films about China.

Not surprisingly, Filipino activists at the I-Hotel shared the same political leanings as their Chinese neighbors. During that time, Joe Diones was the manager of the I-Hotel, said Marasigan, herself an anti-martial law activist who would later be imprisoned by Marcos. He was a very good manager, you see, but he was also a card-bearing member of the Communist Party of the USA. The leftist Kalayan newspaper was also published at the I-Hotel, and its members would go on to form the Katipunan ng mga Demoratikong Pilipino (KDP), which became the largest Filipino socialist organization in America. With its left-leaning management and tenants, the red brick building quickly became known as the Red Block.

African Americans and [[I-Hotel Eviction Eyewitness Account|whites]] were among the supporters of the I-Hotel. The Rev. Jim Jones of the infamous [[JONESTOWN, S.F.|People's Temple]] church brought members of his congregation, mostly elderly African Americans, to the protests.

“We even had a terrorist group that supported the I-Hotel,” recalled the poet Al Robles. The Weathermen group planted a bomb at the Herbst Theater, and they went on radio and said, We did this because the I-Hotel was being oppressed. The bomb did not explode, but upon hearing the news at the time, Robles looked out an I-Hotel window, saw hundreds of people marching and chanting, and said, “We don’t even know who these guys are. What kind of manongs are these?”

The I-Hotel also became a bastion of Asian American cultural expression. Formed by Asian Americans from the Bay Area, the Kearny Street Workshop (KSW) had an office at the first floor of the Hotel. Luis Syquia, a poet and activist of the I-Hotel struggles, explains, “The main focus, rationale, and philosophy behind the Kearny Street Workshop was to really reflect the communities that we came from, and also to contribute to those communities through our art.” KSW brought together Chinese, Filipino, Japanese, and Korean artists and writers into one community. Rejecting the idea of art for art's sake, Luis believed that art was always a tool for social change. Among some of KSW's members were artist Jim Dong, playwrights Lane Nishikawa and Norman Jayo, photographers Crystal Huie and Leny Limjoco, silk-screen artists Leland Wong and Nancy Hom (KSWs current director), and poets Al Robles, George Leong, Doug Yamamoto, Genny Lim, Russell Leong, and Jeff Tagami and Shirley Ancheta.

For Manilatown and its Filipino residents, the I-Hotel represented a life and community. Explained Robles, the unofficial Zen Master of the Filipino community, “The I-Hotel was the life of the manongs, the life of the Filipinos. It was their heart, it was their poetry, it was their song. Robles, whose poetry was recently collected in [http://www.aasc.ucla.edu/aascpress/comersus/store/comersus_viewItem.asp?idProduct=11 ''Rappin' with 10,000 Carabaos in the Dark''] elaborated: "It wasn't only a hotel: it was a gathering place that brought them together. It was celebration; it was ritual. It was bringing back a life."

[[I-Hotel Eviction Summary|The Eviction...]]

''-- James Sobredo'', excerpted from "From Manila Bay to Daly City: Filipinos in San Francisco" in ''Reclaiming San Francisco: History, Politics, and Culture'', A City Lights Anthology, 1998

[[Image:Twist-ihotel.jpg]]

'''Non-permissional art comments on the I-Hotel hole, sitting empty for 25 years after the eviction.'''

''Photo: D.S. Black''

[[Mid-Twentieth Century Daily Life Scenes|Prev. Document]] [[MANILATOWN|Next Document]]

[[category:Filipino]] [[category:Chinese]] [[category:Japanese]] [[category:dissent]] [[category:Power and Money]] [[category:Buildings]] [[category:real estate]] [[category:1960s]] [[category:1970s]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

Great Expectations: The Women's Action Coalition

2014-08-06T23:36:37Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' Historical Essay '''

''by Shea Dean''

[[Image:wimmin$women-on-shore-1909.jpg]]

'''Interested women help bring in a beached ship, 1909.''' ''Photo: San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] ''What follows is a '''Bay Guardian''' article chronicling the rise and fall of the Women's Action Coalition (WAC), which formed in August 1992. WAC was a political group that captured the imagination of hundreds of smart, angry young women in the early 1990s, not only in San Francisco, but all across the country from New York to Chicago to Seattle. Catalyzing women's anger into political action was WAC's specialty, and they did it like nobody else since radical feminists of the early 1970s. Then, quite suddenly, WAC faded from view.

''Why is this article included in Found San Francisco's women's history chapter? In the sweep of history, WAC will not be significant for what it did as a group in the same way that it will be for the lessons that emerge from the story of WAC, highlighted here with skill by writer Shea Dunn. These lessons are vital to a renewed feminist organizing presence in San Francisco and elsewhere. When we know our history, we recognize the same old battles, and we can develop innovative strategies. Recalling that Suffrage lost momentum when it allied itself with the Temperance movement is meaningful to feminists considering alliances with right wing anti-porn groups. Feminist history is vital to decisions we make every time we organize.

''Racism continues to tear at the delicate fabric of feminist organizing. We would all benefit from the support of a larger network of activists that fosters feminist organizing, discussion, and protest.

''The WAC story is the return of the repressed--when we don't face our problems, they do not go away, but rather emerge again and again until we face and remedy them. WAC's story below, is a precise exploration of much of what we face now, as feminists who want to organize for gender liberation.

''--Elizabeth Sullivan''

'''Was the Women's Action Coalition a victim of its own success?'''

'''Introduction'''

Larger than anyone had any right to expect, seemingly indomitable, and uproariously funny, the San Francisco Women's Action Coalition sprung from the foam fully formed in August 1992. Inspired by the success of ACT UP's bold and creative form of direct action and echoing the countercultural groups of the '60s and early '70s, WAC promised to launch a visible and remarkable resistance to the erosion of women's rights and to an ambivalence about feminism that had reached epidemic proportions. It was to be one of the first all-embracing direct-action feminist groups to come along in decades.

Nearly 500 women were drawn to that promise, cramming into Southern Exposure Gallery for WAC's inaugural meeting after a glowing SF Weekly cover story described the nascent local group -- six women sharing tea and cookies and radical notions of equality at an apartment in the Haight -- and the New York WAC group that inspired San Francisco WAC and chapters throughout the country. That very week the group began its marathon run of cranking out action after media-drenched action -- street theater, picket lines, fax zaps, letter-writing campaigns, marches, rallies, guerrilla postering, spray-painting, abortion clinic defense. The breakneck pace seemed impossible to maintain for the long haul.

Indeed, it was. WAC cruised on the endorphin rush of its visible and remarkable successes for more than a year -- helping to defeat Gov. Pete Wilson's crusade to cut Aid to Families with Dependent Children, almost singlehandedly saving San Francisco's Rape Treatment Center from the budget axe, and bringing dozens of women's issues into the public eye. Then the group started feeling the burn. Numbers started to drop off. What had been a steady group of 200 and a phone tree of perhaps 100 more fell to 50, total. Meetings moved from the spacious Women's Building auditorium to the tiny Build gallery. In July 1994 the group acquired a small office in a space shared by other activist groups -- and lost it just a few months ago when it was unable to make rent.

'''Can we talk? '''

I'm the first to arrive at a Tuesday night meeting held this winter at Julie Willing's Castro District apartment. Tall and thin, with jet-black hair and porcelain-pale skin, Willing was one of the de facto leaders in the early days of WAC. At many meetings she would serve as facilitator, a role that was equal parts referee, coach, and party host when the group numbered more than 200. Often accompanied by her young daughter, she somehow managed to maintain control of meetings that often veered toward chaos.

Tonight she exudes that same sense of control -- tinged by a suspicion deeply rooted in WAC's love-hate relationship with the media. As a facilitator she would ask at the beginning of each meeting if there were any members of the working press or the FBI in the room, and if so, would they please identify themselves? A loaded pause would follow as 200 heads turned expectantly, searching for infiltrators. And if one slowly rose from the masses, as would occasionally happen, especially in the group's infancy, that person would usually be told to leave.

As we wait for the other members of the group to arrive, Willing works on the letter; I flip through the WAC archives: two meaty volumes of gushingly positive press clippings.

They're a shocking reminder of what WAC accomplished in a few short months. For its first action, on Aug. 8, 1992, WAC crashed the American Bar Association's convention downtown, demanding that the group support abortion rights and include a national lesbian and gay lawyers' group in their official roster of organizations. The ABA did both. On Sept. 12 WAC staged a demonstration on the one-year anniversary of the navy's Tailhook sexual-harassment scandal to force the navy to officially punish all the perpetrators involved. After nearly two years of hedging it did. And Oct. 8, 30 days before the 1992 presidential election, pink-slip-clad WAC women stood outside a Republican fund-raiser at Bimbo's 365 Club in North Beach, handing out paper pink slips to give the GOP its notice for failing to meet the needs of women. Garnering more press than perhaps any other WAC demonstration, that action established the group as a raucous new voice on the feminist scene.

But that, as they say, was then. This is now: one by one the three other regular WAC-meeting attendees arrive, letting themselves in and going into the kitchen to pour themselves drinks -stiff drinks. Lisa Reagul, 27, a recent UC Santa Cruz grad, and Rebecca Shuman, a 25-year-old ACT UP-San Francisco veteran, are two of the newer members of the group. Karyn Gerred, the third, has been in WAC from day one, a gutsy presence at almost all the meetings and actions. In many of the archival photos, Gerred, now 29, is shown being dragged off by the police in handcuffs, most notably after infiltrating the Bimbo's reception, where she stripped down to her pink slip, stood on a table, and clutched Men Grant, another WAC diehard, in a steamy embrace. She laughs as she says she bears the title of most arrests on behalf of the group.

Neither she nor the others seem to want to revisit the past, however, even -- perhaps especially -- to consider what might have gone wrong. When I ask the group how they got to this juncture, if there were any turning points they could recall, any decisive moments, the women's eyes wander from the text-filled computer screen to the window to their watches.

It's really hard when you're left with a small amount of people to try to figure out why people don't come anymore, Gerred says simply, "leaning on the door frame cupping a glass of scotch in one hand and a smoldering cigarette in the other." She shrugs. "You just keep on because you know you want to do it."

As for why others don't seem to want to do it anymore, no one seems certain. There would be a few people who would do it, then other people would come in and take their places, Reagul says. Then people stopped taking their places. It was just high burnout.

Shuman contends that the group's decline has less to do with the group itself than with the fickle media and the passing political moment. There was a period when people were angry and thought they could make a difference through activism, she says. And there was some minimal coverage of it. But really, the kinds of changes we've all been working for are serious structural changes. The media has never covered those structural changes.

Willing is not even interested in venturing a theory. She seems impatient to get on with the meeting. I don't think about it at all, actually," she says. "I just think about what we're trying to do next.

Everyone tonight seems to agree: this is the Women's Action Coalition. Action -- not analysis -- was how WAC built its well-deserved reputation of being, at least temporarily, a nearly ubiquitous feminist presence. Armed with a messianic mission statement (We are witnesses to the current economic, cultural, and political pressures that limit women's lives ...), a menacing motto (WAC Is Watching. We Will Take Action), and a striking logo (a wide-open eye), WAC thought big from the start. It wanted to be a kind of Big Sister looming over the bedrooms and the legislatures of America, fighting sexism on every front. Of course, doing so would demand Herculean effort -- and the sidestepping of more theoretical, longer-term concerns.

WAC's ongoing commitment to this strategy ensures that the group, despite its depleted numbers, continues to get work done: One afternoon a year ago, along with the Coalition on Homelessness, it hijacked the seats of the Board of Supervisors, dressing up as each of the supes and symbolically passing 12 progressive taxes to pay for city services (I was Annemarie Conroy, Gerred says proudly. You know, angry woman in business suit drag). In the spring of 1995 the group unfurled a banner from the top of the building that houses the San Francisco AIDS Foundation demanding that the organization maintain its drug-treatment services for women. WAC has continued to do lots of late-night guerrilla postering, letter writing, and fax zapping.

But none of these demonstrations have earned the group the sort of media attention earlier WAC actions did -- and media coverage was, at least initially, WAC's raison dtre. Good coverage, that is. Bad coverage, such as a July 1993 ''Village Voice'' article titled WAC Attacks Itself, need not apply. In that piece the New York group came across as disorganized and defensive bordering on paranoid. It was the final nail in the coffin for that group: WAC New York, which Just three years ago boasted more than 2,000 members, has totally disbanded.

To its credit, San Francisco WAC shows no sign of dissolving, but the women tonight aren't brimming with ideas on how to rebuild, either. The prevailing sentiment is fatalism -- We're old hat, Gerred sums up dryly -- but as always, the work needs to get done.

'''Race matters '''

It was an ugly incident, Mary Newson, 25, remembers over coffee at a Mission District cafe where we met on a recent evening. Newson was active not only in WAC from the start but in the Women of Color Caucus, a separate committee, closed to white women, that met regularly to talk about race issues that came up in general meetings and to formulate its own action proposals. While the caucus didn't formulate the proposal that sparked the November 1992 blowout, it was well acquainted with the contentious issues that were raised.

What happened was this: still giddy with the successes of the WAC actions of the summer, a group of women met to draw up plans for a huge march to celebrate International Women's Day in March 1993. The groups made up of both white women and women of color, imagined an action that would include an outpouring of women in large numbers and that would emphasize coalition and unity among women, according to a flyer the committee printed out for the general WAC membership. The march would be called One Hundred Million Missing Women and would generate content from the foundational theme of resistance to the war against women globally.

Twenty-five years ago the idea to hold a simple, old-fashioned march for women's rights would have been considered par for the feminist course, but for WAC it was a highly ambitious proposal, for it was the first time the group would take the offensive. Indeed, it turned out to be not so simple at all. When the committee presented its ideas at the general meeting -- which included addressing issues like the killing of female infants in China and genital mutilation in other countries -- it came under attack for cultural insensitivity and racism. The evening degenerated into a screaming match between women who believed feminism transcended cultural and racial differences and women who believed that as first-world women they could only speak for themselves. Many women sat in stunned silence as the very premise of WAC, an open alliance of all women, was undermined. Dozens never came back.

To Newson, the incident was part of a long-delayed process of cultural and racial education. A lot of stuff was being brought to the table, she says, and I think that's one of the only ways that it's going to be brought to the table. Indeed, one could argue that the confrontation would not have been so dramatic had some of the issues been dealt with earlier. At the very first meeting at Southern Exposure, several women of color drew the predominantly white group's attention to its overwhelming whiteness.

It's a bind, Newson continues. You're in the bind that you're in this women's group that's predominantly white.... You don't want to have to educate white women -- but you're going to have to anyway. In subsequent meetings there was talk of building coalitions with groups made up of women of color to increase WAC's diversity, but that concern fell down WAC's priority list as the group got caught up in its own cyclone of spinning out action after action.

While the Women of Color Caucus had continued to discuss diversity issues and build coalitions--most notably with Asian Immigrant Women Advocates, a group of women garment workers fighting for equitable pay in the sweatshop-ridden garment industry--bigger issues rarely got discussed in the general meetings. Moreover, the issues that did get talked about were not hammered out by consensus, the torturously egalitarian method of choice for many feminist groups of the '70s and antinuclear groups of the '80s. Instead, plowing full speed ahead, WAC operated by majority rules, so that with each vote there was a minority that got crushed and a disagreement that did not get resolved.

That strategy, according to Newson, had a hidden cost. If you're relying solely on direct action and not on learning from other strategies from the past or talking in depth about different issues, I guess you kind of lose your context in a way, she says. You're in it, you're there, you're reacting, but you're kind of popping from action to action to action, and that wears on you.

Newson's observation seems to hang significantly in the air. How long will it last? The four women of today's WAC seem to believe that as long as they continue to struggle along, someday the rising political waters will lift their boat. No doubt those waters will rise again, perhaps buoying WAC to future fame. But when those waters recede, as they surely will, chances are the outcome for WAC won't be any different -- unless the group resolves, or at least discusses, some of its long-simmering conflicts over race, class, process, and the growing influence of the mass media on activism. Otherwise, like countless groups that came before it, WAC will find itself celebrating its brilliantly brief career, pondering its unrealized potential, and wondering what went wrong -- again.

''--Shea Dean''

[[Carol Seajay, Old Wives Tales and the Feminist Bookstore Network |Prev. Document]] [[“Maestrapeace” on the Women's Building |Next Document]]

[[category:Women]] [[category:1990s]] [[category:Dissent]] [[category:1900s]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

Nuclear Power is No Accident

2014-08-06T23:35:21Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' Primary Source '''

''by Union of Concerned Commies, San Francisco, April 1979''

This flyer was distributed at the Three Mile Island memorial protest march in April 1979 in San Francisco's Civic Center.

[[Image:Nuclear-power-is-no-accident-p1.jpg|460px]]

''Cartoon by [[Rise and Fall of Underground Comix|Jay Kinney]]''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] The Three Mile Island disaster proves once again that nuclear power cannot be made safe. Accidents are an inherent consequence of this technology. For all those who still care to live, the question is no longer the safety of nuclear energy, but rather why it is still being imposed on us.

Nuclear power is no accident. Its development came out of the cooperation of the state military apparatus and private industry. The slogan "the peaceful atom," as much a part of the '50s as Joe McCarthy, illustrated the convergence of the state's military needs and the profit motive. The scientists who were traumatized by the use of the A-bomb swarmed to the nuclear industry as a means of patching up their battered social consciences. "Cheap" nuclear energy was supposed to propel the American consumer into the blow-dried utopia of ever better toaster ovens and 24-inch TV screens. Also, harnessing nuclear power to generate electricity created the perfect cover for the continued laundering of tax dollars to the swollen corporations that had come to depend on government subsidy during the war.

The choice of nuclear power was and is a social decision, and not, as is often claimed, a technical one. In the "free enterprise" or "mixed economy" countries this choice was made by capitalists and their friends in the government. In "company nations" such as the USSR, these people are not even formally separated, and the state directly controls business and the money economy. So it comes as no surprise that their choice of nuclear power also brought them all the usual advantages—increases in centralized control, monopolization of social power, and subordination of science to the ends of capitalist production.

Nuclear power helps keep people at safe levels of fear and anxiety, and disasters provide the opportunity to justify the command structure that already functions in the factories, the schools, the prisons, the hospitals. . . The danger of it falling into "the wrong hands" also legitimates the state's official terrorism, its police function augmented for our own good. Our lack of control over our lives becomes the source of its power.

Popular insistence that the most glaring dangers of nuclear technology be offset by additional "safety" features has driven the costs of nuclear energy beyond even those of the long-suppressed solar industry. The profitability of nuclear energy today is highly questionable. There are signs that some major investors are pulling out. But those businesses that have already invested heavily in the industry, and the government which protects their interests, must still defend it even in the face of mass opposition. The alternative is for these industries to write off their billion-dollar investments and face bankruptcy. The protection of profit levels motivates corner-cutting on safety precautions.

We can see the same forces at work in other "ecological" disasters in recent years. From the massive oil slicks released by wrecked tankers built on the cheap, via Niagara Falls, N.Y., where chemicals dumped at low cost into the Love Canal caused skin cancer among the local population, to the explosion at a Dioxin factory in Seveso, Italy that resulted in widespread destruction and genetic damage, the present social system of production endangers life itself.

[[Image:Nuclear-power-is-no-accident-p2.jpg|460px]]

“We All Live in Pennsylvania!”

That's what more than 50,000 demonstrators shouted in Hanover, West Germany last week, protesting the construction of a plant to process and store nuclear waste. In Chooz, France, where the government is planning to enlarge an atomic power station, the town's women locked up the mayor for hours in city hall as a protest. And in Denmark, which doesn't have a single nuke, people demanded that Sweden close two nuclear plants that are less than 20 miles from Danish shores.

Resistance to nuclear power can lead to a showdown with all aspects of capitalist domination. Nuclear power is an eye-opener, an immediate "analyzer" of the social organization as such. It allows us to see that the social order is the same all over the world. And all over the world the "powers that be" attempt to blackmail us into accepting nuclear energy with the threat of economic collapse (as if the economy wasn't collapsing already). Within the terms of capitalist society this may well be the only scenario. But if we are to choose life and reject austerity, a new vision of society is necessary.

We support the anti-nuclear movement, but see it as only a starting point for a broader movement against a society motivated by profitability and based on systematic exploitation, hierarchy, and violence, both at work and at "leisure." A mere switch to alternate-technologies will not qualitatively change our lives. We see no answer in simply building solar cells nine to five on the assembly line, and then going home to watch solar-powered soap operas.

Only in a society where people directly and democratically decide on the issues affecting their lives, where people collectively recreate their physical and social environment to please themselves, can a safe and sane energy policy and life become possible. We DO have the power!

<hr>

[[Image:Foundsf-anti-nukes-icon.gif|link=Anti-Nuclear, Anti-War Politics in the 1970s-80s ]] [[Anti-Nuclear, Anti-War Politics in the 1970s-80s| Return to the beginning of the Anti-Nukes Tour]]

[[category:Anti-nuclear]] [[category:1970s]] [[category:dissent]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

Sandinistas in SF

2014-08-06T23:33:28Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' "I was there..." '''

[[Image:11.gif|64px|left]] '''Listen to an excerpt from "Poetry and Solidarity in the Mission" read by author Alejandro Murguía:'''

<iframe src="https://archive.org/embed/11TenYears--gacetaSandinista" width="500" height="30" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen="true" mozallowfullscreen="true" allowfullscreen></iframe>

by [http://www.archive.org/download/11TenYears--gacetaSandinista/11AlejandroMurguia22ndAndBartlettMastered2.mp3 mp3].

<hr>

[[Image:Tenyears-tour-02.gif|link=Communalism in San Francisco]] 
Previous stop: [[Sudsofloppen: Consciousness-Raising and the Small Group as Free Space|Women's liberation newspapers]] 
Next Stop #12: [[Communalism in San Francisco| Flowering communalism]]

<hr>

[[Image:polbhem1$viva-fsln-mission-art.jpg]]

'''Nicaraguans in San Francisco did important support work for the 1978 revolution, especially in the Mission. Several people trained on local hilltops for guerrilla war, running around the [[Bernal Heights Social Uses | Bernal Heights ring road ]]five times a day.'''

''Photo: Nina Serrano''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] Early one morning in 1974 just before New Year’s Eve, Roberto came to my house. “We have to meet,” he said. He had urgent news from Nicaragua. An FSLN commando had taken over the house of Chema Castillo in Managua and had captured a slew of Somoza’s lackeys. They wanted to exchange them for Frente prisoners, five million dollars, and passage out of the country. The Frente had issued a communiqué in Managua; our task was to translate it, print it, and distribute it here in San Francisco. I went to work immediately on the translation, while Roberto organized a march. That Saturday morning, with a thousand copies of the communiqué printed under the banner of ''La Gaceta Sandinista'', we met with several dozen people at the 24th Street BART Station. Casimiro Sotelo and Roberto spoke at the rally, then we all marched down Mission Street. There were maybe 30 of us at that march. We carried these beautiful black and red posters of Sandino silkscreened by La Raza Graphics, and we waved them at passing traffic, and stood outside El Tico-Nica bar exchanging insults with Somoza sympathizers. This was the first rally ever held for Nicaragua in the Mission District or the United States.

[[Image:Sandino-Poster.jpg]]

Although it was a small start, word soon spread through the Nicaraguan community. The Frente sympathizers were organized around El Comite Civico Latinoamericano Pro Nicaragua en los Estados Unidos (El Comite Civico, for short), which published ''La Gaceta Sandinista'', a newspaper that brought stories, reports, photographs, and Frente communiqués to an information-starved community of Nicaraguan exiles. The meetings of ''La Gaceta'' took place at a storefront on 22nd and Bartlett, and the first members were Walter Ferretti, Raúl Venerio, Lygia S., Haroldo Solano, and Bérman Zúniga. All of them would later play an important role in the overthrow of Somoza.

While we kept on organizing cultural events and printing the newspaper, on the sly we bought a couple of shotguns at a pawnshop on Mission Street. Later, the key contact of the Frente, who always stayed in the background, Herty Levitez, known by his pseudonym “Mauricio,” was arrested crossing the border into Mexico with a car full of weapons. Our shotguns were part of his stash. He did six months in a federal penitentiary for that one.

But other work was more successful. A solidarity committee popped up in LA, another one in Washington DC. Roberto created a Non-Intervention in Nicaragua Committee (NIN) made up of North Americans to pressure Congress to stop military aid to the Somoza regime. Eventually NIN scored a two day hearing on human rights in Nicaragua, Guatemala, and El Salvador before the Subcommittee on International Organizations of the House of Representatives in Washington DC. Several documents were submitted to the committee including sworn statements by Pedro Joaquín Chamorro, regarding human rights violations he observed while being held a prisoner in Somoza’s jails, and a letter from Monsignor Miguel Obando Bravo, Archbishop of Nicaragua, regarding restrictions on religious expression. Father Fernando Cardenal, brother of Ernesto Cardenal and also a priest, testified at the hearings about the imprisonment, torture, and disappearance of campesinos in Nicaragua. The hearings also raised the contradictions in State Department policy with regard to Central America, in particular Nicaragua, since the United States was providing training to National Guard members in counterinsurgency, irregular warfare, jungle warfare, and advance police and investigation tactics that were being used against workers, students, intellectuals, and other political opponents of the Somoza dictatorship. This support of the dictator was in direct violation of the Rio Pact, a mutual assistance document dating back to 1947 and signed by the US which states, “the obligation of mutual assistance and common defense of the American Republics is essentially related to their democratic ideals.”

[[Image:Gaceta-sandinista-paste-up.jpg]]

'''Old-fashioned paste-up of ''La Gaceta Sandinista'' in the Mission, c. 1978.'''

''Image: courtesy Nina Serrano''

By 1977 with the Nicaraguan resistance growing stronger, ''La Gaceta Sandinista''’s print run of 5,000 copies (all of which were given away free) went like hot tortillas to the Nicaraguan community.

''by Alejandro Murguia, from his essay "Poetry and Solidarity in the Mission," in the anthology "Ten Years That Shook the City: San Francisco 1968-78" (City Lights Foundation: 2011), edited by Chris Carlsson.''

[[Image:Ten Years small 87286100958430M.gif]] Find the book at [http://www.citylights.com/book/?GCOI=87286100958430 City Lights]!

<iframe src="https://archive.org/embed/roxfin" width="640" height="480" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen="true" mozallowfullscreen="true" allowfullscreen></iframe>

'''Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz describes how Nicaraguan Revolution was affected by having had a number of its leading militants live in San Francisco during the 1970s.'''

''Video interview: Chris Carlsson, edited by Joe Caffentzis''

[[Image:polbhem1$maciel-at-mcc.jpg]]

'''Alejandro Maciel, one of the founders of the Mission Cultural Center, stands before his mural-style poster of Mexican rebel Lucio Cabañas.'''

''Photo: Nina Serrano''

[[Central America 1988 |Prev. Document]] [[Managua North: San Francisco's Solidarity Movement |Next Document]]

[[category:Dissent]] [[category:Mission]] [[category:Bernal Heights]] [[category:1970s]] [[category:Nicaraguan]] [[category:Ten Years That Shook the City]] [[category:Underground press]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

San Francisco Pride, Chelsea Manning, and Queer Assimilation

2014-08-06T23:32:08Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' "I was there..." '''

''by Caitlin Carmody''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] In April 2013, San Francisco Pride seemed to take an exciting step with the nomination of queer military whistleblower Chelsea (née Bradley) Manning as a grand marshal for the 2013 Pride parade. Manning would not have been present for the honor, as she was in military custody facing life in prison for revealing war crimes committed by the United States during the war in Iraq. But Daniel Ellsberg, fellow whistleblower and famed leaker of the Pentagon Papers, was happy to accept the honor on her behalf and represent her in the parade. In nominating a queer military whistleblower, Pride was making an important statement about the values of the gay rights movement; grand marshals “are the public emissaries of Pride. They represent a mix of individuals and organizations that have made significant contributions to the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender community. With the help of community input, Pride selects these groups and individuals as Grand Marshals in order to honor the work they have put into furthering the causes of LGBT people.”(1)

[[Image:Pride_in_our_whistleblower_2242.jpg|720px]]

'''Manning contingent was the largest in SF Pride march, June 2013.'''

''Photo: courtesy [http://www.privatemanning.org/featured/taking-pride-in-bradley-manning Private Manning.org]''

No sooner had this honor been bestowed upon Manning when San Francisco Pride Board President Lisa Williams released a statement revoking the honor. The statement indicated Manning's nomination had been an error committed by someone within Pride going rogue and “never should have been allowed to happen.” Williams wrote: "Bradley Manning(2) is facing the military justice system of this country. We all await the decision of that system. However, until that time, even the hint of support for actions which placed in harms [sic] way the lives of our men and women in uniform— and countless others, military and civilian alike — will not be tolerated by the leadership of San Francisco Pride. It is, and would be, an insult to every one [sic], gay and straight, who has ever served in the military of this country." The response to Williams' statement from the more radical edge of the gay rights movement in the Bay Area was swift and furious. Williams' statement seemed to many on the “queer Left” as horribly illustrative of an ongoing tension within the movement for gay rights: are we looking to join the system, imperialism, war, and all, or are we opposed to the rotten status quo and want to radically transform it? Had Manning not “made significant contributions to the LGBT community” in revealing U.S. war crimes in Iraq? Do queers not care about militarization, racism, imperialism, and massacre in the name of patriotism and “freedom”?

Pride president Lisa Williams said naming Manning as a grand marshal would be an insult to everyone who had ever served in the military; for me, what seemed the biggest insult was Pride taking the side of the U.S. military and its war crimes, elevating the military to untouchable status: “Thou shalt not utter a word against war,” was Pride's party line. It was alarming to see the leadership of one of the largest gay pride parades in the world completely uncritically endorsing what they called “the military justice system,” as if such a system dispenses what we all call “justice.” It was also alarming to hear them condemn Manning’s actions, which they erroneously claim “placed in harm’s way the lives of our men and women in uniform -- and countless others, military and civilian alike.” Many people, including many former members of the military, characterized Manning’s actions as an important act of dissidence, blowing the whistle on U.S. war crimes, and saving countless human lives by throwing a wrench in the U.S. war machine. It was not Manning’s actions, but the U.S. military establishment, that place in harm’s way, and actively end, the lives of many people, civilian and military, U.S. and Iraqi alike (though Pride seemed not to care about dead Iraqi civilians). Pride’s statement via Williams was also alarmingly repressive: not a hint of support for Manning’s actions would be tolerated. Hardly the endorsement of free speech and dissent one would hope for from “gay rights leaders.”

<iframe width="560" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/1OX8RY6PHD8" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>

''Video: courtesy [http://www.privatemanning.org/featured/taking-pride-in-bradley-manning Private Manning.org]''

Meanwhile, in a quiet but important shift, for the first time ever Pride allowed a military recruitment booth as an exhibitor at the SF Pride Parade. The message was crystal clear: this is not a radical, dissident show of pride and resistance, but a celebration of the status quo and gays' inclusion in it. Clare Bayard, a longtime San Francisco queer organizer on issues of racism, militarism, and war with Catalyst Project, said of military recruitment at Pride: "It's shocking, but not surprising. Since the community response was so loud and clear when Pride threw Bradley Manning under the bus, they've found another way to reassert their role in trying to defang a queer liberation movement with a long history of challenging militarism." (3)

In response to Pride's rejection of Manning as a grand marshal, supporters of Manning decided to nominate her as “Community Grand Marshal” and marched in the parade in her honor. Organizers of the contingent expected to draw a few hundred people, but the “Bradley Manning Support Network” contingent drew over 2,000 people marching in support of the jailed, queer military whistleblower whom SF Pride had pointedly turned its back on. The energy in the contingent, which spanned four city blocks, was high, with many people carrying signs that read “When they came for Bradley Manning, I spoke out,” “I'm Proud of Bradley Manning,” “Shame on SF Pride,” and “Bradley Manning Walks With Me.” Others carried signs reflecting the intersectional demands of the left leaning part of the gay rights movement: “Stop violence on LGBT people” and “Smash racism, sexism, and bigotry,” In the part of the contingent where I marched, we chanted loudly throughout the march, “L, G, B, T, Bradley Manning Speaks for Me, L, G, B, T, Q, Bradley Manning Speaks for You” and “They Say Court Martial, We Say Grand Marshal!” Other than several people belligerently booing us, the response from the crowd was overwhelmingly positive. There were some seemingly befuddled people as well: “Why are these gay people carrying signs saying “Shame on SF Pride” while they march in the SF Pride parade?” their faces seemed to say. Luckily, marchers had lots of informational materials to hand out, and did so. In other parts of the contingent, people played and danced to music, did flash mobs, and the Brass Liberation Orchestra played rousing brass tunes for queer liberation. One longtime queer activist who has lived in San Francisco for 30 years told me that nothing except marching in support of Manning could have convinced her to march in the Pride parade, which she said had long since become a sellout.

[[Image:Blo 2263.jpg|720px]]

'''Brass Liberation Orchestra rocks the Manning continent at SF Pride, June 2013.'''

''Photo: courtesy [http://www.privatemanning.org/featured/taking-pride-in-bradley-manning Private Manning.org]''

The controversy over Manning's inclusion as a grand marshal in the 2013 San Francisco Pride Parade felt like a stark and important referendum on the direction of the gay rights movement. San Francisco Pride took place the weekend of June 27 through 29, 2013. Just the day before, on June 26, the U.S. Supreme Court had struck down California Proposition 8 and the federal Defense of Marriage Act. Gay marriage was now legal in California in addition to 15 other states, and the federal government no longer defined marriage as a union between a man and a woman. President Obama's administration had not even defended the Defense of Marriage Act in court for the last two years; the national tide on gay marriage seemed to have officially turned. People in the gay rights movement had a variety of responses to these Supreme Court victories, from unequivocal jubilation to hesitant celebration to absolute disavowal of marriage as an institution. But in San Francisco, with Pride weekend coming on the heels of a victory for the most heavily resourced gay rights battle of the past decade, the overwhelming response seemed to be “Pride is going to be SO AWESOME!” People wanted to celebrate this victory with rainbows, glitter, dancing, and jubilance.

The large Bradley Manning contingent in the 2013 Pride parade was the largest non corporate contingent and second in size overall only to Google.(4) It seemed to me to be emblematic of the radical backlash against the mainstream gay rights movement and its assimilationist agenda. While searching for and waiting in a very long line to use a porta potty a long ways from the Manning contingent, I watched other individuals, floats, and contingents. The mood was, while not completely apolitical, certainly very celebratory and not very fierce, angry, or radical. Everywhere I turned there was a corporate float or a well branded (read: rainbow on corporate logo) corporate employee: Wells Fargo, Google, Clear Channel, Kaiser Permanente, Bank of America, BMW, Facebook, Macy's, Salesforce, JP Morgan Chase, Twitter. I was reminded of a protest photo I'd seen awhile ago that read: “Stonewall was a riot, not a brand.” Where was the anger about the economic crisis caused by the very banks marching in the parade whose nefarious practices have left many queers homeless? Where was the outrage about the displacement of low income queers due to astronomic rent prices driven by the tech industry?

Is this what success looks like? Is this what liberation looks like, to have corporate giants flocking to the “largest LGBT gathering in the nation?”(5) Is this the best that the largest LGBT gathering in the nation can do, to open its arms to corporate giants wreaking havoc on queer communities, and reject a queer whistle-blower who alerted us to war crimes committed in our name? “NO” was the resounding answer from 2,000 people at Pride that day, and I hope that number continues to grow.

[[Image:Free bradley manning 2247.jpg|720px]]

''Photo: courtesy [http://www.privatemanning.org/featured/taking-pride-in-bradley-manning Private Manning.org]''

'''Notes'''

1. http://sfpride.org/parade/grand-marshals.html 
2. At the time, Manning was still going by Bradley. She has since made public that she now goes by Chelsea. 
3. https://www.commondreams.org/headline/2013/06/26-8 
4. http://www.popularresistance.org/over-thousand-in-bradley-manning-support-contingent-at-sf-pride-2013/ 
5. http://sfpride.org/celebration/

[[category:Gay and Lesbian]] [[category:2010s]] [[category:Dissent]] [[category:Power and Money]] [[category:Downtown]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

San Francisco Liberation Radio

2014-08-06T23:30:27Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' "I was there..." '''

''by Jo Swanson ''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]]

[[Image:SF Lib radio 794819889 m.jpg]]

To give a voice to the voiceless; to the poor and to people who speak out against the brutality of capitalism, San Francisco Liberation Radio broadcast its first show in May, 1993, from the rooftop of an apartment building on Clement Street. Inspired and assisted by Stephen Dunifer, who had recently put Free Radio Berkeley on the air, Food Not Bombs activists Richard Edmondson and Jo Swanson decided to start their own micro (called "pirate" by the real pirates) radio station in San Francisco.

The first SFLR broadcast occurred on May 1st, 1993. Over the summer, SFLR did weekly mobile broadcasts, mostly from Twin Peaks or nearby. The station went into overdrive on the night that then-mayor Frank Jordan's Matrix Plan went into effect in August, 1993. Jo recorded the events at the downtown bus depot when riot police evicted all of its homeless occupants. The tape was played from a battery-operated transmitter from the top of Mt. Davidson a few hours later. Matrix created a state of emergency for homeless people, SFLR responded by doubling its broadcast hours.

Twice-weekly mobile broadcasts followed for a few weeks until, on Sept. 22nd, 1993, Richard was tracked down by an FCC agent who demanded to see ID. Richard refused and drove away, whereupon the FCC agent called the SFPD to help him. The SF police, being as enthusiastic as they often are, sent 8 squad cars and about 20 officers to conduct a dramatic arrest on Webster Street. At that point Richard did show the agent his ID and was allowed to drive away again by the officers, who had not been told why they were supposed to stop him and, frankly, seemed a little annoyed by the FCC agent.

The arrest made the papers and also inspired SFLR to try a new strategy; go public all the way. Thanks to the help and advice of Luke Hiken and a group of lawyers, the National Lawyer's Guild's Committee on Democratic Communications, Richard and Jo faced the inevitable large fine, $10,000, with legal assistance. Figuring that the FCC now knew where they were, they began broadcasting nightly out of their own living room. This allowed SFLR to be on the air seven nights a week rather than two.

With a somewhat stable base, SFLR was able to get more people in on the programming. Weekly talk shows began on Tuesdays, with Kiilu Nyasha, former [[Black Panthers|Black Panther Party]] member and ex-programmer for KPFA, hosting "Freedom is a Constant Struggle" and Keith McHenry from [[FNB Activists|Food Not Bombs]] with "Voices of Rebellion". SFLR's schedule currently includes news (from alternative and mainstream sources), music, children's stories, taped lectures (from speakers such as Noam Chomsky, Helen Caldicott, Ramona Africa and Geronimo Ji Jaga), readings from leftwing publications and announcements of progressive events. Talk shows were added on Mondays, with "Unheard Cries" hosted by Jackie Dove (who also designed the station's website), "At Large in San Francisco" with roving reporter Norris Large, "Radical Departures" with Herb Mintz, and "Juggler Vain's House of Dung", hosted by and George Perry.

In an article in the ''Examiner'' on January 15th, 1995, rightwing talk show host Michael Savage of KSFO said that we at SFLR "suffered from a street artist mentality." He was right. Several programmers from the station had a background in graffiti, puppetry, poster design and distribution. All these arts were used to promote the station and gain listeners. Members of SFLR had been known to stand by the side of 19th Ave. with large puppets and signs that read "Tired of puppet radio? Try 93.7fm". The frequency appeared in large letters painted on the wall at Ocean beach and posters of fundraisers were distributed throughout the surrounding neighborhoods. With improved technology, thanks to Stephen Dunifer, the signal was clear and strong (about 35 watts) all the way along the shore to Pacifica.

Legally the FCC was being held at bay as their case against Free Radio Berkeley was being heard in Oakland. They were attempting to get the federal court to grant an injunction forcing FRB off the air. On January 20th, 1995, April 14th, 1996 and yet again on November 12th, 1997, Federal Judge Claudia Wilkin declined the FCC's petition against FRB.

This was the first time the FCC had lost a court action against an unlicensed broadcaster. The ruling was a terrific boost for micro radio. Stations popped up all over North America. In the spring of 1995, Keith McHenry took a 5 watt transmitter with him on a speaking tour on the country. He reported that everyone who attended his talks was thrilled with the experience of broadcasting. "They ran outside and sat in their cars and turned on the radio", he said, "and then they came back in, really excited." SFLR joined the newly established Radio4all group on the internet (www.radio4all.org), where they now exchange broadcast-quality programs with other micro stations around the world. Richard produced the monthly "Food Not Bombs Radio Network" program which was sent out to legal stations across the country and even aired around the world via shortwave from Radio for Peace International. SFLR received mail from listeners in Alaska, Tokyo and Geneva. Geneva even provided a programmer; Alex, who sent frequent tapes of Italian hiphop music and his own commentary on global news.

International support or no, nothing was guaranteed in the way of safety for microradio. Local DA's and law enforcement often took it upon themselves to interpret the constitution and busted many a station, sometimes with SWAT teams. Mostly because of the nature of San Francisco, with its large community of progressive people, local micro broadcasters were spared much of the harassment that similar stations across the country were subject to (especially those run by African Americans). In Decatur, IL, Napoleon Williams and Mildred Jones of Black Liberation Radio had their street closed, electricity shut off, door broken in by a gang of heavily armed police, children taken away along with "everything with a plug on it", all to save their community from its own radio station. Eventually Mildred was jailed for breaking parole by not going to a college class on a day that there was no class. The reason she was on parole? A local K-Mart claimed that she had stolen a purse which actually was her own purse, but they ignored its contents and somehow lost the videotape that proved her innocence. She is now serving 3 years in jail. No depth was too low for the defenders of corporate freedom in their fight against micro radio. In Tampa the "Party Pirate" Doug Brewer and his wife were held at gunpoint in handcuffs for hours as their home was raided and the station's antenna was literally ripped from their home, leaving gaping holes in the roof. Broadcasters are being fined now for millions of dollars and threatened with time in jail.

Here in San Francisco, SFLR had plenty to report on. In 1996 Matrix II, another attack against poor people, began with the booting of homeless people out of Golden Gate Park. An army of officers, on motorcycles and horses, invaded and evicted homeless people while garbage trucks devoured their paltry possessions. Interviews of the displaced homeless and the activists who were beaten and jailed on their behalf were broadcast as fast as they were produced. In June, 1995, a gang of police officers from the Richmond district station, led by Officer Mark Andaya, beat and pepper-sprayed Aaron Williams to death in front of his family and neighbors. SFLR covered the following police commission meetings as angry family and friends of Aaron denounced his brutal murder at the hands of the SFPD and demanded the firing of Officer Andaya.... which eventually happened. Every night from 4-10 (longer on weekends) SFLR covered Police Commission meetings, Critical Mass bike rides, Haight-Ashbury Neighborhood Council meetings, Food Not Bombs servings/arrests, demonstrations against U.S. attacks on Iraq and a wide array of other community events.

The Federal Court ruling has apparently angered the National Association of Broadcasters (NAB). They had instructed the FCC to crack down on micro radio at the NAB convention in April. At that conference KFOG engineer Bill Ruck, reported on FRB and SFLR. Bill had even gone so far as to photograph the front of Richard and Jo's apartment building and show it to the conventioneers. Since then, with subtle and not-so-subtle intimidation, over 150 stations in the U.S. have been forced off the air, including Radio-X, a 15 watt station in the Mission district. They don't stay quiet for long though, many silenced stations get back on the air as soon as possible, often with more community support than before.

Currently the FCC and the NAB are debating whether to legalize low-power radio or run all unlicensed broadcasters into silence and possibly prison. At this year's conference they actually invited Luke Hiken to speak on micro radio's behalf. But don't get too excited, they also inducted Rush Limbaugh, master of misinformation, into their hall of fame while applauding heavy handed tactics used to shut down unlicensed stations across the country. Due to the outpouring of support for micro radio from the people, the NAB knows it will be an uphill struggle, even with all the power and money they possess. Truth is a greater weapon; the transmitter is mightier than the sword.

On June 16th, 1998, Judge Wilken granted the FCC their injunction. Avoiding the constitutional issues, she decided that FRB had never applied for a license and therefore had to follow the formal procedure, regardless of time and expense. This ruling forced FRB, SFLR and many other stations off the air TEMPORARILY. At the time of this writing, micro radio enthusiasts are organizing further actions to free the airwaves from the corporate stranglehold they are held in. If you would like to learn more about micro radio and link to many stations, look up the [http://www.liberationradio.net/ SFLR website].

[[Birth of Community Rock Radio: A brief history of KMPX and KSAN-FM |Prev. Document]] [[SF Call |Next Document]]

[[category:Media]] [[category:Music]] [[category:radio]] [[category:1990s]] [[category:dissent]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

STRIKE!... Concerning the 1968-69 Strike at San Francisco State College

2014-08-06T23:28:50Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' Historical Essay '''

''compiled by Helene Whitson''

[[Image:On-strike-shut-it-down.jpg]]

'''Protesters march near 19th and Holloway on SF State campus, 1968.'''

''from "Crisis at SF State" © 1969 by Insight Publications''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] "On strike! Shut it down!" From November 1968 to March 1969, those words rang out daily on the campus of San Francisco State College. Like clockwork, between noon and 3 p.m., striking students would gather at the Speaker's Platform on campus for a rally, then turn in a mass and march on the Administration Building, intent upon confrontation with President Smith or Hayakawa. The strike at San Francisco State College lasted five months, longer than any other academic student strike in American higher education history, and, miraculously, was less violent than any that were to come. Why did this strike happen in San Francisco, a sophisticated, cosmopolitan city, known for its tolerance? Why did it happen at San Francisco State College, an innovative, liberal, four-year institution that was comparatively unknown?

San Francisco has been called ''"the city that knows how''," an apt description of its progressive, stimulating atmosphere. From a frontier town on San Francisco Bay in 1849, the city has grown to a financial and cultural center, noted for its business acumen as well as its patronage of music and art. Visitors come from all over the world to experience its magical excitement. Through the years, the city has grown in size, population, and maturity, but has never lost its tolerance for new ideas.

At the turn of the century the city was still feeling its youth, with cobbled streets, fancy tan dies, lavish mansions, and elegant hotels and restaurants. During this era of sophistication the decision was made to open a normal school in San Francisco, and in 1899 San Francisco State Normal School was born. (An earlier normal school, the first in the state, had been established in the city in 1862, but had been transferred to San Jose in 1870.) The first president of the new school was Dr. Frederic Burk, a noted educator whose specialty was individual instruction. Dr. Burk had no qualms about putting new educational ideas and theories into practice, often taking on the traditionalists on the State Board of Education while promulgating his innovations.

As the city grew, so did the college. At first, the teachers were mainly women, and for twenty years or so there was a majority of women in its student body. San Francisco State Normal School supplied most of the teachers for the San Francisco Public Schools, as well as for school districts all over the state. In the early 1920's, more and more men began to enroll. In 1921, the college changed its name to San Francisco State Teachers College; by 1935 it was called San Francisco State College. Along with the other California state colleges, it became a liberal arts school.

During the 1930's the San Francisco State College campus was typical of other college campuses across the country. Although the depression hit San Francisco hard, as it had other American cities, there were dances and football games, and a superficial sense of innocence and cheerfulness. San Francisco, long a supporter of the rights of the working person, underwent a bitter, angry city workers' strike in 1934, but could still try to express that sense of tolerance for which it was known. Beneath the surface, however, San Francisco State College students were politically aware. In the late 1930's a group of students held an antiwar protest, a precursor of events to come. In the 1940's San Francisco State personnel and students did their patriotic duty and went off to war, some not to return. In the 1950's, San Francisco was caught up in the McCarthy hysteria, as was the rest of the country. Seven faculty members and two non faculty members were terminated for refusing to sigh the loyalty oath. By 1960, when protesters against the [[The House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) Hearing and Riot of 1960|House Un-American Activities Committee hearings]] in San Francisco were washed down the steps of City Hall, San Francisco had become a gathering place for those who wished to test established and outmoded traditions and see change in American society.

The 1960's can be called the age of idealism in the history of American youth. There have been other periods of youthful idealism in American history, but never were there so many young people with the time, money, and energy to express their opinions as in the 1960's. The civil rights movement was underway in the South. Minority groups, especially blacks, were beginning to make strong, visible stands for their rights. To the west, rumblings of war were beginning to develop -- Vietnam. Students were concerned not only about their own rights and whether they would be drafted, but about the suffering people of Vietnam, who were being bombed and napalmed by American military might. They could not accept an American government that continued to bomb and strafe hamlets and villages in spite of protests at home. Students began to look at their own position in American society and wonder whether what they were learning in institutions of higher education had any relevancy to their lives, immediate or future. In 1966, the most idealistic youths in the country appeared in San Francisco -- the hippies.

They were convinced that love, sharing, and caring would solve the problems of the world: love and a flower would make it right. The idealism of San Francisco in 1965-1966 spilled over onto the campus of San Francisco State College. As a beginning librarian, I felt the electricity, the excitement, the sense of creativity and hope. Dr. John Summerskill, a youthful and liberal educator, had just been appointed president, and our college was going to go far in solving the problems besetting man and woman kind. San Francisco State College's Experimental College was one of the first in the country, a forerunner of many similar institutions across the land.

In May, 1967, some students went to Dr. Summerskill to protest the college's practice of revealing students' academic standing to the Selective Service Office. The academic bureaucracy was not at that time aware of how to handle questions and protests, although our neighbor across the Bay, the University of California at Berkeley, should have taught us some lessons. The students of earlier decades may have had quarrels with academic nit-picking or poor administrative judgment, but they did not feel they had the power to make their desires felt or perhaps did not care enough to carry a protest very far. Many students of the 1960's, however, came from comfortable middle-class families that had stressed the value of education, and they were convinced enough of the importance of their ideas to demand answers.

They were willing to take the time and effort to assert their beliefs. Furthermore, many minority groups were beginning to criticize higher education institutions for ignoring their special interests. Consequently, minority students were eager to demand consideration also.

[[Image:Sfsc cafeteria-for-web.jpg|720px|thumb]]

'''SF State cafeteria, site of organizing and speech-making prior to and during the strike.'''

''Photo: Jeffrey Blankford''

The academic machinery was creaky and unused to being called to account for its actions. Although the issue may now seem minor, those students protesting the "insensitive administration's" willingness to cooperate with the Selective Service Office held on tenaciously. They wanted the policy stopped, and they would protest until it was stopped! When Chancellor Glenn Dumke ordered its continuation, the students felt that their rights and beliefs were being ignored; the action of the Chancellor's Office reinforced the feeling that higher education was totally unsympathetic to student ideas and irrelevant to their needs.

As the power of minority students began to appear on campus, racial divisiveness became a problem, marring the earlier sense of idealism. Some white students began to express hostility to the growing use of student funds for black student education and activities. The editor of the student newspaper, The Gator, was physically attacked by several black students after he wrote an editorial opposing outside funding for the college's "special programs," which included those of the Black Student Union. The first "Shut it down!" was shouted on December 6, 1967 when protestors objected to the suspension of the black students involved in ''The Gator'' incident. There were to be many more.

Mounting tensions on campus and failure to solve the student problems led the Trustees to request that Dr. Summerskill resign. In June 1968, Dr. Robert Smith, a professor of education, was appointed president. He too was to fall victim to the demands of the students that the problems of society be solved by higher education.

[[Image:Sit-in1 for-web.jpg|720px|thumb]]

'''Sit-in during SF State College strike, 1968.'''

''Photo: Jeffrey Blankford''

The suspension of English instructor (and [[Black Panthers|Black Panther Party]] Minister of Education) George Mason Murray on November 1, 1968, was the catalyst for five months of confrontation and tension. George Murray was a graduate student in English and had been hired to teach special introductory English classes for minority students admitted to the college under a special program. At a Fresno State College rally, he allegedly had stated, "We are slaves, and the only way to become free is to kill all the slave masters." At San Francisco State College, he allegedly had said that black students should bring guns to campus to protect themselves from white racist administrators. The Trustees forced President Smith to suspend Murray. That did it! Black students and their white sympathizers viewed the administration's action as racist and authoritarian, and the administration itself as weak, controlled by conservative, uncaring politicians in Sacramento and Conservative, rich, white trustees in Los Angeles. They felt that the suspension was a perfect issue to illustrate the racism and authoritarianism found not only on college campuses, but actually established as a major tenet of the "American way of life." A protest against this action would bring to public notice some of the inequities in the words that American authorities preached and the deeds that they performed.

[[Image:sfsuingl$sfsu-strikers-end-hayakawa.jpg]]

'''SF State protesters'''

''Photo: Terry Schmitt''

[[Image:sfsuingl$sfsu-strikers-march.jpg]]

'''SF State Strikers'''

''Photo: Terry Schmitt''

President Smith tried to bring reason to bear on the matter, but was pushed by conservative Trustees on the one side and impatient, angry students on the other. He hold a three-day convocation on campus, during which all classes were cancelled and all members of the campus community came together to discuss the issues. Striking minority students submitted a list of demands to the campus administration:

'''Black Students Union'''

1. That all Black Studies courses being taught through various departments be immediately part of the Black Studies Department and that all the instructors in this department receive full-time pay.

2. That Dr. Hare, Chairman of the Black Studies Department, receive a full-professorship and a comparable salary according to his qualifications.

3. That there be a Department of Black Studies which will grant a Bachelor's Degree in Black Studies; that the Black Studies Department chairman, faculty and staff have the sole power to hire faculty and control and determine the destiny of its department.

4. That all unused slots for Black Students from Pall 1968 under the Special Admissions program be filled in Spring 1969.

5. That all Black students wishing so, be admitted in Fall 1969.

6. That twenty (20) full-time teaching positions be allocated to the Department of Black Studies.

7. That Dr. Helen Bedesem be replaced from the position of Financial Aid Officer and that a Black person be hired to direct it; that Third World people have the power to determine how it will be administered.

8. That no disciplinary action will be administered in any way to any students, workers, teachers, or administrators during and after the strike as a consequence of their participation in the strike.

9. That the California State College Trustees not be allowed to dissolve any Black programs on or off the San Francisco State College campus.

10. That George Murray maintain his teaching position on campus for the 1968-69 academic year.

[[Image:Sit-in2 for-web.jpg|720px|thumb]]

'''Sit-in during SF State College strike, 1968.'''

''Photo: Jeffrey Blankford''

'''Third World Liberation Front'''

1. That a School of Ethnic Studies for the ethnic groups involved in the Third World be set up with the students in each particular ethnic organization having the authority and control of the hiring and retention of any faculty member, director, or administrator, as well as the curriculum in a specific area study.

2. That 50 faculty positions be appropriated to the School of Ethnic Studies, 20 of which would be for the Black Studies program.

3. That, in the Spring semester, the College fulfill its commitment to the non-white students in admitting those who apply.

4. That, in the fall of 1969, all applications of non-white students be accepted.

5. That George Murray and any other faculty person chosen by non-white people as their teacher be retained in their positions.

The convocation allowed campus members to express their ideas, but the administration could not answer some of the student demands, and the students would not take "We can't" or "We haven't the authority" as an answer. The situation deteriorated further, and on November 26, 1968, Dr. Smith resigned.

Appointed as the acting President of the campus was Dr. S. I. Hayakawa, noted semanticist. Twelve days earlier, he had spoken out in a faculty meeting, urging faculty members to support Dr. Smith. His first action, which set the tone of his administration, was to close the campus. If the word "reasonable" can be used to describe President Smith, then "authoritarian" must be used to describe President Hayakawa. His administration would not accept change through intimidation. If students marched on the Administration Building, then he would see to it that the San Francisco police were there to handle the situation. San Francisco State College became international news, and Dr. Hayakawa became a symbol of authority and stability. He closed school a week early for the Christmas holidays, hoping that a "cooling off" period would take place.

[[Image:Sfsuingl%24hayakawa-at-podium.jpg]]

'''San Francisco State College President S.I. Hayakawa.'''

Some faculty members were also extremely concerned with the situation on campus. Many of the more liberal ones were frustrated with the political climate in California ant the nation as a whole, and sympathized with the striking students. They felt that Governor Reagan was attacking higher education in the state, and that the Board of Trustees and the Chancellor were too rigid. (Chancellor Glenn Dumke had once been president of San Francisco State College, and had often been at odds with more liberal faculty members over various issues.)

These faculty members also felt that any decision-making powers they may have had in the past were quickly being usurped by the campus administration, under orders from the Board of Trustees. The members of the American Federation of Teachers (AFT) local especially felt that the students had already taken risks and made stands for what they believed, and that they, the teachers, also had to take action. On December 11, 1968, more than fifty AFT members set up an informational picket line around the campus, while waiting for official strike sanction from the San Francisco Labor Council. On January 6, 1969, they began their official strike.

The next two and one-half months saw the same daily confrontations on campus and the same negotiations behind the scenes. Superior Court judges ordered the strikers to desist, yet the strike continued. Several tentative agreements were announced, but the strike went on. Finally, on March 20, 1969, a joint agreement was signed between "representatives of the Third World Liberation Front, the Black Students Union, and the members of the Select Committee concerning the resolution of the fifteen demands and other issues arising from the student strike at San Francisco State College."

[[Image:Sfsuingl%24sfsu-riot-cop-line.jpg]]

'''Riot police at San Francisco State.'''

''Photo: Terry Schmitt''

'''The major points of the settlement were as follows:'''

'''Black Students Union'''

1. That all Black Studies courses being taught through various departments be immediately part of the Black Studies Department and that all the instructors in this department receive full-time pay.

'''Settlement:'''

a. All courses have been transferred with the exception of one in Anthropology and one in Drama.

b. All instructors employee full-time will receive full-time pay.

2. That Dr. Hare, Chairman of the Black Studies Department, receive a full-professorship and a comparable salary according to his qualifications.

'''Settlement:'''

a. The apparent failure to rehire Dr. Hare is irrelevant to the institution of the Black Studies Department. The Department Chairman shall be selected by the usual departmental process and Dr. Hare shall be eligible for selection.

3. That there be a department of Black Studies which will grant a Bachelor's Degree in Black Studies; that the Black Studies Department chairman, faculty and staff have the sole power to hire faculty and control and determine the destiny of its department.

'''Settlement:'''

a. President Robert Smith created a Black Studies Department on September 17, 1968.

b. The Trustees approved the granting of a Bachelor of Arts Degree in Black Studies on October 24, 1968.

c. On December 5, l968, the Council of Academic Deans recognized the Black Studies Department as having full faculty power commensurate with that accorded to all other departments of the College.

d. The College would establish a community board to provide community support and encouragement for minority programs. One of the functions of the board would be to recommend faculty appointments to the President. However, the board would have no legal authority.

4. That all unused slots for Black Students from Fall 1968 under the Special Admissions program be filled in Spring 1969.

'''Settlement:'''

a. One hundred twenty-eight E.O.P. students were admitted for the Spring 1969 semester.

5. That all Black students wishing so, be admitted in Fall 1969.

'''Settlement:'''

a. The College agreed to admit approximately 500 qualified non-white students for the Fall 1969 semester and was actively recruiting such students. There were also to be about 400 non-white students as special admittees.

b. The College committed itself to funding and staffing for an Economic Opportunity Program (E.O.P.).

c. The College agreed that parallel admissions standards are necessary for Third World people if the College is to fulfill

its educational responsibilities in an urban environment.

6. That twenty (20) full-time teaching positions be allocated to the Department of Black Studies.

'''Settlement:'''

a. 12.3 positions were allocated to the Black Studies Department (11.3 unfilled positions).

b. More positions would be allocated in accordance with need and available resources.

7. That Dr. Helen Bedesem be replaced from the position of Financial Aid Officer and that a black person be hired to direct it; that Third World people have the power to determine how it will be administered.

'''Settlement:'''

a. The College appointed a black administrator to the newly create position of Associate Director of Financial Aid. He would make the final decision in the College Work Study Program and would make final decisions on financial aid packages for all black students who wish their decisions made by a black administrator.

b. The Office of Financial Aids already had a Spanish-speaking administrator who would function in the same way as the black administrator.

8. That no disciplinary action will be administered in any way to any students, workers, teachers, or administrators during and after the strike as a consequence of their participation in the strike.

'''Settlement:'''

The Select Committee members, and representatives of the TWLF-BSU recommended the following to the President concerning all cases pending on March 17, 1969:

a. Students charged solely with acts of non-violence shall receive a written reprimand.

b. Students charged with "violent acts" shall, if found guilty by the hearing panel, receive a penalty of not more than suspension through the end of the Fall semester of 1969-70.

c. Students charged with ''instructional disruption'' shall, if found guilty by the hearing panel, receive a penalty of no more than suspension for the remainder of this (1968-69) academic year.

9. That the California State College Trustees not be allowed to dissolve any Black programs on or off the San Francisco State College campus.

'''Settlement:'''

a. This resolution was not implemented.

10. That George Murray maintain his teaching position on campus for the 1968-69 academic year.

'''Settlement:'''

a. This decision would be referred to the community advisory board.

'''Third World Liberation Front'''

1. That a School of Ethnic Studies for the ethnic groups involved in the Third World be set up with the students in each particular ethnic organization having the authority and control of the hiring and retention of any faculty member, director, or administrator, as well as the curriculum in a specific area study.

'''Settlement:'''

a. The College would endeavor to establish a School of Ethnic Studies to begin operation in the Fall Semester 1969. The College will need additional funding for this purpose.

b. The School will equal existing Schools of the College in status and structure.

c. The college would establish a community board to recommend faculty appointments to the President.

2. That 50 faculty positions be appropriated to the School of Ethnic Studies, 20 of which would be for the Black Studies program.

'''Settlement:'''

a. allocation of faculty positions to the School of Ethnic Studies will follow upon Spring planning and resources acquired by the College.

3. That, in the Spring semester, the College fulfill its commitment to the non-white students in admitting those who apply.

'''Settlement:'''

a. One hundred twenty-eight E.O.P. students were admitted for the Spring 1969 semester.

4. That, in the fall of 1969, all applications of non-white students be accepted.

'''Settlement:'''

a. Same as response to B.S.U. Demand #5.

5. That George Murray and any other faculty person chosen by non-white people as their teacher be retained in their positions.

'''Settlement:'''

a. Same as response to B.S.U. Demand #10.

'''FURTHER RESOLUTIONS'''

1. That a committee of students, faculty, and staff, ethnically mixed, be formed immediately to advise the College on how to teal with the charges of racism at the College. A first task for this committee will be to recommend procedures for dealing with claims of racism within the college.

2. That the procedure for appointing an ombudsman be started again and pressed to as rap it a conclusion as possible.

3. The College shall establish, through its Academic Senate and the Council of Academic Deans, a small committee to expedite decision making and action concerning all aspects of this agreement.

4. In recognition of the urgency of the present situation, we recommend that the Chancellor and Trustees expedite in every way possible the consideration of any requests for special resources presented by the College President which arise from the extraordinary needs of the College at this time.

5. In instances where differences of interpretation occur in the precise meaning of any part of this agreement, final and mutually binding decisions upon all parties shall be made by a three-man group composed of one person named by the President of San Francisco State College, one person named by the Dean of the School of Ethnic Studies and the Chairmen of the various Ethnic Studies Departments, and a third person selected by these two.

6. Staffing and admission policies of the School of Ethnic Studies shall be non-discriminatory.

7. Police should be withdrawn immediately upon the restoration of peace to the campus.

8. The state of emergency on campus should be rescinded immediately upon settlement of the strike, together with the emergency regulations restricting assemblies, rallies, etc.

9. The College shall resume planning for a Constitutional Convention and for a student conference on the governance of the urban campus.

10. The students and the administration together recognize the necessity of developing machinery for peaceful resolution of future disputes, arising from conditions or needs outside the terms of this agreement.

11. The student organizations signatory to this agreement and the College agree that they will utilize the full influence of their organizations to insure an effective implementation of this agreement.*

On March 20, 1969, the strike ended. Why did it happen? The answer may be found in part in the words of Dr. Walcott Beatty, Chairman of the San Francisco State College Academic Senate at that time: ''The campus is a microcosm of society.'' In 1968, American citizens all over the country, shaken by racial tension and the war in Vietnam, were examining their values to see whether the direction in which the country was heading was the way they wanted it to go. Perhaps at San Francisco State College, the idealism of 1966 was still holding on, the idea that students and faculty could express their thoughts and somehow change a society that hat become unwieldy and rigid, ponderous and oppressive. Perhaps that is what it was all about. For five long months, students and teachers fought for the ideals in which they believed, right or wrong. And, whether they won or lost (no one can really say who won or lost), the members of the San Francisco State College community had the opportunity and the duty to express those beliefs and principles for which they fought.

[[S.F. STATE STRIKE 1968-69 CHRONOLOGY| MORE SF State Strike]]

[[SDS at San Francisco State|Americana game invented by SDS]]

<hr>

[[Image:Tours-dissent.gif|link=LOS SIETE DE LA RAZA]] [[LOS SIETE DE LA RAZA| Continue Dissent Tour]]

[[On Strike! We're Gonna Shut it Down |Prev. Document]] [[S.F. STATE STRIKE 1968-69 CHRONOLOGY |Next Document]]

[[category:SFSU]] [[category:OMI/Ingleside]] [[category:1960s]] [[category:dissent]] [[category:African-American]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

Weaving in the Bohemians

2014-08-06T23:27:06Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' "I was there..." '''

''by Mary Moore, Bohemian Grove Action Network, originally published in "It's About Times", the Abalone Alliance newspaper, December 1981–January 1982''

[[Image:Bohemian-grove-womens-action-weaving-webs-at-downtown-Club.jpg]]

'''Women's action at Bohemian Club in Downtown San Francisco.'''

''Photo: It's About Times newspaper''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] Sunday, November 15, 1981 began as a stormy, windy day with toppled power lines and slick dangerous roads. But that didn't deter 300 women from all over northern California who met in San Francisco's Civic Center to march to the exclusive, all-male [[The Bohemian Club|Bohemian Club]] on Taylor Street.

The San Francisco protest coincided with the second women's action against the Pentagon, which drew women from Switzerland, Denmark, Sweden and West Germany to Washington, D.C.

The [[The Bohemian Oligarchy|Bohemian Club]] was chosen as a target in order to illustrate the connections between social issues such as sexism, racism, nuclear power and war by exposing the men who profit from other people's suffering. The protest was organized by the feminism task force of the War Resisters League, a member of the Bohemian Grove Action Network, a coalition of 26 Sonoma County and Bay Area organizations.

When we reached the Bohemian Club, we began weaving a huge web of yarn, string and rope which soon covered the entire front door of the club's block-long, ivy-covered building and stretched across the sidewalk to trees near the street. The image of the web was meant as a challenge to the club's motto, “Weaving spiders come not here,” which the Bohemians use to claim that they don't discuss business or politics. Chanting and drums created a powerful background to the weaving of the web and the placement against the building of a hundred cardboard “tombstones” bearing the names of women killed as a result of patriarchal greed and oppression.

[[Image:Weaving spiders come not here go8f2150a.jpg|720px]]

'''Plaque on side of Bohemian Club at 624 Taylor Street in San Francisco.'''

There was no response from inside the club, though we noticed faces peeking through the drapes in second-floor windows. We weren't bothered by the police during the hour we were there and by the time they came to cut down our “mistresspiece” we had captured the event on both movie and still film.

[[Image:Cop-undoing-bohemian-spider-weave-at-Club.jpg]]

'''Police remove spider weave on Taylor Street outside Bohemian Club.'''

''Photo: It's About Times newspaper''

<hr>

[[Image:Foundsf-anti-nukes-icon.gif|link=Blockading the Bohos]] [[Blockading the Bohos| Continue Anti-Nuke Tour]]

[[category:anti-war]] [[category:dissent]] [[category:women]] [[category:1980s]] [[category:Downtown]] [[category:Civic Center]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

Presidio 27

2014-08-06T23:25:46Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' Historical Essay '''

''By the [http://www.friendlyfirecollective.org Friendly Fire Collective]''

[[Image:Presidio-27-09 0406-00537 bw.jpg]]

'''1969 poster supporting the Presidio 27, published by the GI Association'''

''Image: Lincoln Cushing''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] The minimum-security stockade at Ft. Scott, the Army base once located on the grounds of San Francisco’s old Presidio, was built before the First World War to house a maximum of 56 men. At the time of the Vietnam War, the small jail cell was bursting with 115 imprisoned soldiers there in 1968. Most of those being held there were charged with offenses related to going AWOL, desertion, or war resistance, with petty thieves or drug users intermixed. Besides overcrowding, conditions at the stockade were quite terrible. Relatively large, open cells had been divided into tiny windowless quarters—many smaller than the Army’s minimum requirement of 6’ x 8’ –and painted black. The minimum-security prisoners were forced to labor under the watch of shotgun-wielding guards (also armed with urine-loaded water pistols) who employed the tactics of random beatings, finger and testes twisting, and pointing their weapons at prisoners and threatening death. Sixty suicide attempts were reported in the Ft. Scott stockades, at the time all denied by the Army.

It was in this environment that 19-year-old Richard Bunch, who had been charged with going AWOL in opposition to the Vietnam War, was being held in 1968. On Friday, October 11th, Bunch allegedly tried to escape Ft. Scott and was killed in the process. Witnesses, both prisoners and guards, reported that Bunch had only been teasing a guard saying, “I don’t think you’d really shoot” if he fled. He then broke into a run and was shot in the back by the guard—some witnesses claimed he was skipping, not running at all.

[[Image:SOS-coffin-better-replacement.jpg]]

'''GIs and Vets lead anti-war march in San Francisco's financial district, 1973.'''

''Photo: Steve Rees''

That night when the chaplain held a memorial service for Bunch he referred to the murder as “justifiable homicide.” The crowd of imprisoned soldiers began a small riot, throwing chairs and yelling at guards, knowing there would be a cover-up of the shooting. The next day a massive anti-war demonstration was held in San Francisco under the banner, “GIs and Vets March for Peace.” Officers had been scared of the growing GI anti-war movement and had been harassing local soldiers to prevent them from attending and had even restricted whole units to their bases through that weekend. Nonetheless over 10,000 people showed up and four soldiers who were AWOL from the military led the march to its end at the Presidio where they turned themselves in to awaiting Military Police.

Meanwhile, inside the stockade, prisoners had been talking and decided to take coordinated action. That Monday following the shooting, 27 prisoners broke rank and sat with interlocked arms on a small lawn in the middle of the stockade. One of them stood up and read their demands, which included investigations into the murder of Bunch, the improvement of stockade conditions, an end to racist harassment of Black prisoners, and a statement of their opposition to the war in Vietnam. The commanding officer read aloud charges of mutiny, emphasizing that mutiny is a capital offense, but he was drowned out by the soldiers singing “We Shall Overcome.” Firemen were brought in to turn hoses on the sit-in, but they refused, so instead Military Police removed the soldiers one by one and brought them back to their cells.

Originally the soldiers—who had publicly become known as the Presidio 27—were formally charged with mutiny and threatened with execution. However once this was made public the outcry was such that the Army had to back down from capital punishment. The first to be sentenced was Nesery Sood who was instead given 15 years. After public protest the sentence was reduced to seven, and then again to two years. Others were given sentences of between nine months and 14 years, but all had been released after only 18 months.

6th Army Commander Stanley Larsen was later asked why the rebel soldiers had been so harshly charged and threatened with the death penalty. “We thought the revolution was starting,” he replied, “and we were trying to crush it.”

“We knew the penalty for mutiny was death,” said Randy Rowland, one of the Presidio 27, “but in a wildly elated way we didn’t care.” Rowland had found himself in the stockades for going AWOL instead of shipping out to Vietnam. “We were going up against the motherfuckers, we were taking our stand.”

[[Image:Join-the-revolt-bulkhead-cover-bw.jpg]]

'''[[Up Against the Bulkhead|Up Against the Bulkhead]] was one of hundreds of anti-war GI newspapers that sprang up around the world, providing sailors, soldiers, and marines their own media.'''

<hr>

[[Image:Foundsf-anti-war-icon.gif|link=1969 antiwar protest]] [[1969 antiwar protest| Continue Anti-War Tour]]

[[The Presidio Mutiny of 1968|Prev. Document]] [[Presidio Pet Cemetery Survives Toxic Scare|Next Document]]

[[category:Presidio]] [[category:Military]] [[category:Dissent]] [[category:1960s]] [[category:1970s]] [[category:anti-war]] [[category:Vietnam War]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

On Strike! We're Gonna Shut it Down

2014-08-06T23:24:04Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

The 1968-69 San Francisco State Strike

''' "I was there..." '''

''by Margaret Leahy''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] ''What follows is not and cannot be comprehensive; rather, it is the Strike viewed from the perspective of one young San Francisco woman as she journeyed from passive observer to a political activist. Within the context of these struggles, the San Francisco State College (“State”) student community was bringing the same issues to a campus where their struggles culminated in the longest student strike in the history of the United States—four and one-half months, from November 1968 to April 1969. That strike and my perceptions as to what led up to it, what happened during and after it and what lessons it might have for today are the topic of this article.''

[[Image:On-strike-shut-it-down.jpg]]

'''Protesters march near 19th and Holloway on SF State campus, 1968.'''

''from "Crisis at SF State" © 1969 by Insight Publications''

As a second generation San Franciscan, I am a product of my city’s history. The City I grew up in was a city of ethnic and racial neighborhoods. North Beach was primarily Italian. Chinatown, Chinese. The Fillmore/Western Addition had become primarily African-American during the migrations from the South and after the internment of Japanese Americans during World War II. The Mission and other areas “South of the Slot,” had housed primarily Irish laborers and civil servants but were changing as the next generation moved to newer homes with grass in front and large back yards in the Sunset and Richmond Districts. My character and conscience were molded by my experience as a post-World War II White, Irish-American child of the Sunset District who attended parochial schools—Holy Name grammar school and Mercy High School, just across 19th Avenue from State. My neighbors and schoolmates were overwhelmingly White, although they were an odd mix for the time comprising Protestants, Catholics and Jews, gays and straights, and differing political persuasions, ranging from Democrat to Republican to (according to the House Un-American Activities Committee) communist. While neither my school nor community was racially integrated, racial slurs or acts of overt racism were not part of my experience. Although my dad died when I was in grammar school and my mom during my senior year in high school, my early family values had strong roots, which, combined with other life experiences, taught me to stand up for what was right and against what was wrong.

From the age of 15 until my early twenties, while I went to school I worked as a meat wrapper right across from Mercy and down the block from State at Stonestown Meats. My work exposed me to days filled with hours of hard, physical work and, for the first time, overt racism. When I asked why all the butchers and meat wrappers were White, I was told that no one would buy meat touched by “colored” hands. When I went home and told my mom, she said that some people had wrong ideas that differed from ours but not to say anything at work because we needed my pay now that my dad was dead.

Just as the City was changing in the post-World War II era, so was State. At its new campus on 19th Avenue and Holloway, State—along with City College—comprised San Francisco’s contribution to California’s Master Plan for Higher Education that guaranteed every “qualified” high school graduate a place for post-secondary education. Community colleges provided vocational training and AA degrees that would allow transfer to state colleges or universities. State colleges were to focus on undergraduate degrees, teacher training and a limited number of MA degrees. The university system, such as UC Berkeley, provided undergraduate education but focused on graduate degrees and faculty and graduate research. State was seen as the choice for San Francisco’s working- and middle-class community college and high school graduates who had proven themselves academically. Many, if not most, were the first in their family to go to college. State was close to home and affordable. When I started in fall, 1963, student fees were approximately $48 per semester. When I finished my MA, they had risen to about $95 per semester.

When I first crossed 19th Avenue to begin studying at State, the campus was already politically aware. A free speech platform was built in 1962, before Berkeley’s Free Speech Movement, and allowed for speakers of various political persuasions to address the student body from a grassy part of the lawn in front of The Commons, a place where students gathered to eat and socialize. Tables sponsored by differing campus groups were a constant in front of the Commons, as well. Some were recruiting for fraternities and sororities, while others sought to get students involved in Civil Rights actions such a Freedom Summer in the South or others closer to home. These issues were yet to be vocally addressed on campus, however.

I remember in particular a table in the spring of 1964 where students, including one I remembered who had dated my cousin, were explaining the racist hiring and promotion policies at the San Francisco Palace Hotel. It reminded me of my experiences in the “Whites only” meat market. I knew the policies were wrong and could easily identify with the injustices that were occurring at the Palace Hotel. I was told of a sit-in that was to be held at the hotel to expose these practices and demand their elimination. I went to the hotel that evening, not knowing what to expect or what I would do. Upon seeing those who were sitting-in I felt conflicted. On the one hand, I agreed with their demands but on the other, I was frightened about the consequences of joining in and nervous because I didn’t recognize anyone whom I could join. I left and rationalized my leaving by convincing myself that this was not my fight, nor part of the world in which I lived day-to-day. Although I left, I was ashamed at not joining because I knew not standing up against what was wrong was, itself, wrong.

Precursors to the Strike

Unknown to me at the time, the issues of racism and exclusion were beginning to be addressed on campus. The election of a progressive slate to run the student government, Associated Students (AS), in 1962 led to a change in resource allocation and in fall, 1964, a student-sponsored tutorial program began in the Fillmore to address the inadequacies of the education given to students of color that made most “unqualified” for admission to the college. While students at UC Berkeley made headlines with the Free Speech movement on campus, students and faculty at State quietly began the AS-funded Community Involvement Program, which sought to ensure active community participation in the Tutorial Programs, and address issues impacting housing and employment.

By fall 1965, Malcolm X had been assassinated and the Watts riots gained national attention for the condition of Blacks outside the South. By this time the Tutorial Program had expanded outside the Fillmore District and operated at nearly a dozen sites with a few hundred volunteers. More students began working with community groups to alter the social and economic barriers that hampered the educational potential of poor and minority students as much as poor schools did. Connections between campus and community groups developed which would later be key in garnering community support during the Strike. As might be expected, however, such activities were perceived as unwanted intrusions and not well received by the City’s educational establishment.

The spring of 1966 saw the development of two more precursors to the 1968-69 Strike: the emergence of the Black consciousness movement and the Experimental College. Black pride was not only manifest by wearing Afros and dashikis, but in Experimental College-sponsored classes on Black Nationalism and the AS-funded Gallery Lounge performances by Black performers. Students discovered a new reality, one not offered as part of the traditional White, Eurocentric curriculum. Students also inserted themselves into their education through student-run course evaluations that assessed the relevancy of course content and the effectiveness of instructors. Such a student voice was unheard of at the time, although university-mandated and -constructed evaluations are now the norm.

By the summer of 1966, the Tutorial Program was altered to reflect the ideas of racial and ethnic self-determination, changing from an interracial, though primarily White, set of students focused on community organizing to a program where people from various racial communities worked with members of their own community groups—Black with Black, Latino/a with Latino/a, and Asian with Asian. In tandem with these new perspectives was a change in the focus of the small Black student body. The Negro Students Association became the Black Student Union led by Mariana Waddy and, under the leadership of Jimmy Garrett, began to actively engage in the politics of self-determination rather than integration. By 1967, the Latin American Student Organization (LASO) was organized as a social/cultural club. With Roger Alvarado at the helm, LASO developed a political identity, as well.

Some White students also began to question the relevance of their education through exposure to new ideas presented in Experimental College classes by a few faculty members who were also questioning the “truths” of academia, and through the questions of a national and international social movement that no longer simply accepted what it was told by those in positions of authority. Making the connections between campus reality and the world at large was the focus of another new organization on campus mainly comprised of White students, Students for a Democratic Society (SDS). At State SDS was an umbrella organization composed of students with various left-of-center political positions who came together in opposition to the war in Vietnam and racism.

The Vietnam War engaged everyone. All males over the age of 18 had to sign up for the draft, which, at that time, usually meant a quick trip to the induction center. Most everyone knew someone who was going, had gone, or who wasn’t coming back. While some students supported the war and others were already opposed to it, most students weren’t clear as to why we were there. Male students with good academic standing were, however, exempt from the draft, which might explain why some tried not to think about it. State students of all races got involved in draft counseling off-campus and the war became a topic of discussion within a limited number of classrooms. The administration and most faculty did not see such discussion as appropriate. They believed the college should be an apolitical ivory tower, something that stood apart and observed the society from above. More and more students began to disagree with the war and, in spring, 1967, an AS resolution was passed to stop the college from providing the Selective Service with the academic standing of draft-age males. When the college administration refused to go along with the student vote, a small number of students staged a sit-in in the president’s office to protest.

During this period the BSU was attempting to make the curriculum of the university more relevant to the realities of African-American students and to increase the disproportionately low number of Black students at the school compared with the percentage of African-Americans in the Bay Area. College presidents were authorized to grant admission waivers to 2% of admitted students and the BSU wanted the president to allocate these seats to Black students who had been in the Tutorial Program. The BSU also worked to create an Institute of Black Studies to house the new curriculum being proposed. Initially, then-President John Summerskill agreed to the creation of such an entity and also to the hiring of any “qualified” person nominated by the BSU to direct it. However, even thought the BSU secured foundation money to support the Institute for the fall of 1967, it did not become a reality. Rather, classes were dispersed throughout various departments, which had the final say over class content and instructor hiring and no program for admitting Black students was implemented.

Students became increasingly frustrated with the administration. These frustrations exploded in the fall of 1967 with two incidents ending in student suspensions by the president. The first suspension was that of Jeff Poland and the student-funded “alternative” newspaper Open Process, where he was a writer. Poland and Open Process were summarily suspended for writing and publishing an alleged pornographic poem about a member of the Athletic Department faculty. Soon thereafter, in response to a racist attack on Muhammed Ali in the Journalism Department’s “official” newspaper The Gator, a physical confrontation ensued between the paper’s editor, Jim Vasco, and members of the BSU. Six members of the BSU were summarily suspended, but not Vasco. In a clear case of pre-judgment and violation of the basic presumption that someone is considered innocent until proven guilty, the president suspended students prior to any judicial hearing. In addition, the BSU argued that the summary suspension of the BSU members but not Vasco was a racist prejudgment.

The BSU demanded the reinstatement of its members and SDS helped to form the Movement against Political Suspensions (MAPS), which focused on mobilizing White students around the idea of due process for students and student control of student-funded publications. When President Summerskill agreed to reinstate Poland and Open Process until a judicial hearing, but refused to reinstate the BSU members because, he argued, they had been violent, MAPS joined the BSU in characterizing the president’s actions as racist. The president was presented with a demand to reinstate the BSU members until a judicial hearing and given a deadline for doing so.

Believing in the rightness of the demands, I took my first political act joining those who went to the president’s office to present the demands. No one really knew who I was and, looking back, I’m sure that I looked a bit out of place marching to his office in my mini-skirt and heels. But I felt comfortable. I had a class with many of the other marching students and had heard them speak at MAPS meetings and in class about the situation.

When the president had not acted by the required time, we took action. At noon on December 6, 1967, students of all colors and ethnicities held a rally at the Speakers Platform and marched to the Administration Building with the purpose of taking it over with a sit-in until the students were readmitted. We found the doors chained shut. The president forgot, however, to close his office window which was only about six or seven feet from the ground. A courageous Iranian student, Kosoro Kalantari, climbed in, followed by my professor from the International Relations Department, John Gerassi. At the same time, students smashed the glass doors to the building. As I marched up the stairs towards the entrance I saw the broken glass and, waiting on the other side was Gerassi who held out his hand and asked me which side I stood on. I took hold of his hand and went through the opening. With that action I also crossed the line from being a passive, if concerned observer, to becoming a politically unsophisticated activist.

I didn’t know what to expect when I entered the building so I stayed close to my professor and those students I knew. Soon I came across a number of young Black men all dressed in black leather jackets and wearing black berets. I asked someone who they were and was told, “Oh, they’re the Panthers.” My response was, “Who are the Panthers?” Until then I was unaware of the Black Panther Party and its position on self-defense against police brutality, its breakfast programs for children, and its community connections with students in the BSU at State. Although people remained in the building for a while, the president did not call the police. He was an avowed liberal who wanted to keep things peaceful and orderly on his campus, so he closed the campus down for the day and soon the students left. Arrest warrants were not issued until later.

On campus, neither side could claim victory but the actions that day did have repercussions. The actions at the Administration Building were successfully framed as violent and the students involved were painted with the same brush. As a result, rather than garnering greater student support, the actions of that day drove many potential student supporters away. The president’s action in closing the campus rather than confronting the protesters with police solidified then-governor Ronald Reagan’s and the California State College Board of Trustees’ determination to maintain centralized control over the campus at any cost.

During the early spring of 1968, Chinese-American, Filipino-American, and Mexican-American student organizations solidified internally into political organizations, strengthened ties with their respective communities and joined collectively into what became the Third World Liberation Front (TWLF). President Summerskill accommodated some of the BSU demands, hiring Professor Nathan Hare to develop a Black Studies Department and offering special admission to 200 Black students. However, faculty teaching what could be termed black or ethnic studies courses were still untenured lecturers at the mercy of the departments where their courses were housed. The primary issue of contention in this regard revolved around the question of the academic validity of these classes, the quality of the faculty teaching them and, of course, who should make these determinations.

In response to the ongoing tensions on campus, the reverberation in the Black communities and on campus stemming from the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr. and the all-too-obvious lack of students of color on campus, the Board of Trustees increased the percentage of “special admissions” from 2% to 4%. The Mexican American Student Coalition (MASC) had been actively engaged in the Mission District, tutoring and preparing high school students for admission to the college. Along with other groups within the TWLF, they organized students to come to the campus and demand the increased number of slots be filled with students from their underrepresented communities. The administration panicked at the thought of hundreds of Third World high-school students on campus and quickly claimed that they did not have the power to grant such waivers. The History Department used the “threat” posed by these students as an excuse to inform one of its lecturers who had been teaching Mexican-American history, Juan Martinez, that his contract would not be renewed, contending that he urged students to attack members of the administration.

Infuriated and frustrated with both the college and History Department administrators, the TWLF joined forces with SDS, which was similarly frustrated in its unsuccessful demand to have the Air Force ROTC (AFROTC) program removed from campus. Together, the groups made four demands to be implemented by fall 1968:

<blockquote>1. 400 Third World special admissions students would be enrolled; 

2. Martinez would be rehired; 

3. Eleven Third World faculty positions would be allocated and; 

4. AFROTC would be removed from campus. Since the BSU had already secured a promise of 200 special admissions and the establishment of a Black Studies Department with Hare as its director, they did not become involved. </blockquote>

In order to insure these demands were met, the TWLF and SDS began a sit-in at the Administration Building on May 21, 1968. I joined the sit-in and the experiences of the next few days literally changed my life and the way I viewed the world. The demonstrators passed the time sitting in small groups discussing why the sit-in was necessary, why the college was structured as it was and whose interests the institution served. What had before been mostly intellectual understandings became concrete when one evening a Black gentleman who identified himself as living in the Ingleside District approached a group I was sitting with and handed me some bread and salami. He said he didn’t have much but he wanted us to have it, as what we were doing would help his grandson to possibly accomplish what he hadn’t been able to do himself. It was clear that what we were doing, and what the Tutorial and Community Involvement programs had done, had real meaning. The System was a problem that could only be changed by our standing together to make social institutions truly serve the needs of the people.

Those of us occupying the Administration Building were conscious that our actions were being observed not just by the administration, but also by the press. The community at large and our fellow students whose support we wanted and needed would assess our actions within this frame. We were careful to explain ourselves to the press in a way that made sense and was not viewed as confrontational or antagonistic. We even made sure the building was kept clean. The one thing we were criticized for was using the faculty-staff bathrooms—but we even cleaned them!

President Summerskill allowed the sit-in to continue and directed that the campus be open 24 hours a day so the occupation occurred within normal business hours. He had tendered his resignation as of the start of fall semester 1968, and most likely did not want a confrontation between students and police at the end of spring term to define his legacy. He quickly found out that the decision was not to be his, however, as the Chancellor of the Board of Trustees called for his immediate resignation and the end of the sit-in. On the evening of May 24, with soon-to-be ex-president Summerskill tearfully apologizing, police entered the building and through a bullhorn stated that the sit-in constituted an illegal assembly and that if the demonstrators did not leave the building immediately they would be subject to arrest. Most of the students left but about 25 volunteers, myself included, remained and were arrested and taken out of the building by police.

For the first time students at State saw uniformed police on their campus arresting fellow, peaceful students. And these were not ordinary police. They were members of the newly created Tactical Squad (Tac Squad) outfitted presumably to evoke fear in knee-high leather boots, face-guarded helmets, and motorcycle jackets, and who were trained to effectively wield their three-foot long Billy clubs. As I defiantly walked out with clenched fist raised I remember my arresting officer saying, “Put the fist down, bitch.” Seeing the lights and hearing a large crowd, I naïvely believed he wouldn’t hurt me and refused his order and was placed with others inside a paddy wagon. A few minutes later I looked out the small window to see our attorney, Terrence Hallinan, profusely bleeding from a club to his head. I realized then that neither cameras nor a crowd was a deterrent to the Tac Squad. I later read that some of the other 500 or so students gathered outside the building also had their first confrontation with police clubs that night.

The semester ended with students from the sit-in awaiting trial and sentencing and others with warrants for their arrest from the the December 6 seizure of the Administration office. Over the summer, the Board of Trustees appointed Professor Robert Smith president. The limited gains agreed to from the sit-in were eliminated and the new president found himself confronted with an increasingly angry and frustrated student body and community. With the assassination of Bobby Kennedy so soon after Dr. King’s, people lost hope that peaceful solutions could be found to end the war and racism. The police riot at the 1968 Democratic convention also highlighted the power of the state towards peaceful protest.

George Murray, a student at State, member of the BSU and the Minister of Education for the Black Panther Party also traveled to Cuba that summer to address a meeting of representatives from movements for self-determination from throughout the Third World, making the connection between the Black struggle in the US and that which was occurring worldwide. The 1968 student massacre in Mexico City and the Black Power salute at the 1968 Olympics exposed systematic repression against those pressing for change and highlighted black anger in the US. Closer to home, racial tensions heated up when a Black man was seen as unjustly murdered by police in the City and the increased police presence in communities of color and in their high-schools was seen as symbolic of occupation. In response to all this, and in learning from the apparent success of the BSU in gaining a Black Studies Department, the TWLF called for its own Institute of Third World Studies.

As the fall semester began, a major controversy erupted between Professor Hare and a Political Science Department professor, John Bunzel, over academic quality. President Smith attempted to subdue the controversy by restating his commitment to the creation of a Black Studies Department with Hare as its director. Also in the fall, Murray was hired as a lecturer in the English Department with responsibilities that included working with those Black students that had gained special admission.

The Board of Trustees was not happy with the situation at State and began to assert its control over the college. First, it proposed a revision to the State Education Code that would give the Chancellor, not AS, control over student fees. This would more than likely decimate the Tutorial, Community Involvement Programs, and The Experimental College, and eliminate funding for recognized student organizations such as the BSU and TWLF. The Chancellor then called for the suspension of Murray and his removal as a faculty member in the English Department, noting his participation in the events of December 6 and his position within the Panthers (which the Chancellor considered an organization advocating violence against the government). This action by the Chancellor was seen as not only sidestepping long-standing faculty hiring and retention practices but as another attempt to block the development of a Black Studies Department.

The BSU called a student strike for November 6, 1968 and issued a set of ten non-negotiable demands. The TWLF immediately joined and presented its own list of five non-negotiable demands. After a heated discussion over whether or not to issue its own demand that AFROTC be removed from campus, SDS agreed that the Strike was against institutional racism on the campus, not the war, and joined in support of the Strike demands. SDS saw its role not in articulating demands but in educating White students to support the Strike.

Student Demands

The Strike demands of the BSU centered around establishment of a Black Studies Department and control over its curriculum and faculty. The demands also included provisions for a major increase in Black student enrollment, a reconfiguring of control over the Office of Financial Aid, maintenance of the on- and off-campus programs that facilitated Black empowerment, and a policy of no recriminations against any strikers. Two specific personnel demands were also included: that Nathan Hare be appointed Chair of Black Studies as a full professor with salary commensurate with his qualifications and appointment level, and that George Murray remain on faculty for the Academic Year 1968-69.

The TWLF demands called for the development of a School of Ethnic Studies with faculty and curriculum determined by Third World ethnic groups, 50 faculty positions which would encompass 20 for Black Studies, an increase in Third World enrollment, and the retention of George Murray and “any other faculty person chosen by non-White students.” (See Appendix ftor specific demands.)

Underlying both sets of demands was the belief that communities of color, both on- and off-campus, have a say in their own education and that of their children, and that the campus had a responsibility to benefit these communities.

The Strike

The first day of the Strike was fairly quiet, with a small picket line marching on 19th Avenue and some classes disrupted as striking students sought to have them cancelled by claiming they were “dismissed.” The next day about 500 students marched to the Administration Building in support of the demands. By the end of the week, an ad-hoc faculty committee joined in the Strike. Until this time, with the exception of some very minor property damage, everything was peaceful. On Wednesday, November 13, all of that changed.

Following a noon rally at the Speakers Platform, the leadership of the BSU and TWLF held a press conference in front of their offices which were located in the huts, wooden structures housing student organizations near the front of the Commons. As the press conference was ending a unit of the Tac Squad marched in front of hundreds of students standing and sitting around The Commons. Before anyone knew what was happening, they broke ranks and charged the huts and attacked the BSU and TWLF members with clubs. The nearby students were both panicked and infuriated at the sight of club wielding police and attempted to push them away from the Commons area, all the while shouting, “Pigs off campus!” Each side charged at the other with the police, according to the next day’s San Francisco Chronicle, “plucking students out of the crowd.” At least one student even had a gun pointed at him. The faculty was holding a meeting nearby and hearing of the dangerous situation outside, marched into the crowd to put themselves between the students and police. After a few tense moments, the police marched away. But the students, led by former state assemblyman, Professor Bill Stanton, marched back to the Speakers Platform. Everyone was angry and needed to vent. I’ll never forget Professor Stanton, with a full head of white hair and scholarly looking, screaming into the bullhorn, “We’re going to close this motherfucker down!” At the end of the day, the police claimed 9 arrested and 11 injured and temporarily out of service, but their actions generated increased student and faculty support for the Strike.

President Smith closed the campus in response, claiming that the situation was not conducive to learning. Then-governor Reagan demanded that the campus be reopened, “by any means necessary.” President Smith agreed to open the campus on Wednesday, November 20, not for regular classes, but for a campus-wide convocation on the issues. The time for discussion was over, however, and the convocation was more of a confrontation than a conversation. After a week, on November 26, the convocation ended and, under pressure from the state and realizing that there was nothing he could do to resolve the issues, Smith resigned.

Professor S. I. Hayakawa was then appointed acting-president of the college and, as his first act, ordered the campus closed for an early Thanksgiving vacation. Over the break he declared a state of emergency on campus, which gave the administration greater powers. When the campus reopened, over 1,000 demonstrators marched along 19th Avenue in front of the campus accompanied by a parked sound truck calling on people to join the Strike. Along with a few others I was standing on the bed of the truck when I noticed a man in a funny hat and glasses climbing aboard and throwing blue ribbons. I had no idea who he was as he brusquely pushed some of us away from the person holding the megaphone and yanked it away, trying to address the crowd. All the while these blue ribbons were flying about. As the others, not so gently, tried to remove him from the truck, I remember saying, “Don’t hurt the old man, he’s just crazy.” I quickly learned that this “crazy man” was the new acting-president. After Hayakawa left, as the demonstrators moved on to campus, there were random attacks by the police throughout the morning. After the noon rally, police once again attacked the demonstrators in the central campus. But the worst brutality occurred the next day.

All those who participated in the Strike know Tuesday, December 2, as “Bloody Tuesday.” Joining about 2,500 student and faculty demonstrators at a noon rally were leaders of the Black, Asian, and Latino communities, as well as religious leaders. By the end of the rally, one non-striker estimated the crowd at approximately 5,000. The rally was attacked—no other word describes what occurred—by police coming from all sides. Fighting between police and demonstrators filled the central campus. The two sides were not evenly matched. While the demonstrators outnumbered the police, the police were armed with clubs and guns. Unarmed students lost all fear and jumped on the backs of police who were beating students, only to be pulled off and clubbed to the ground themselves. The afternoon WAS bloody! Hayakawa, however characterized it as the most exciting day since his tenth birthday when he rode a roller coaster for the first time!

There were 32 arrests and not only students were arrested. Carlton Goodlett, editor of the The Sun Reporter, a Black newspaper, was unceremoniously taken to jail and the Reverend Gerald Pederson, the campus minister of Ecumenical House, was arrested after being pushed to the ground with a club pressed against his clerical collar. In reaction to the police riot, support for the Strike swelled. Numerous community groups and religious leaders used their platforms to condemn the police, the City, and Hayakawa, which garnered even greater support for the Strike. The campus chapter of the American Federation of Teachers (AFT) began to pressure the San Francisco Central Labor Council for strike sanction. Even The Friends of the IRA came out in support of the Strike and publicly chastised their Irish brethren in the police forces for forgetting their own history of oppression and fighting for the wrong side.

Throughout the week community participation increased and became more vocally militant. Rallies and arrests continued even as Hayakawa tried unsuccessfully to drive a wedge between striking groups by offering concessions to the BSU but nothing to the TWLF. The next week began with Mayor Alioto and some labor groups attempting to find ways of negotiating an end to the conflict. Like Hayakawa, their attempts were unsuccessful. The AFT did not wait for Labor Council approval before setting up an informational picket line along 19th Avenue. In conjunction with others they sloshed through a very rainy few days. On Thursday the rain died down just in time for a noon AFT-sponsored rally that was approved by the administration. Speakers from the AFT, student, and community groups all spoke out in favor of the 15 demands and against the administration and police brutality. Joining in was one group that was a surprise to most at the rally: Officers for Justice, an organization comprised of Black San Francisco police officers who refused assignment to State and who condemned the violence perpetrated by their fellow officers. The officers themselves were surprised when during a march to the Administration Building after the rally, they were among those attacked by the police.

By this time the Strike had developed a new dynamic. True solidarity had emerged among the various campus and community groups. Rather than being intimidated by the police violence, people learned to rely on one another for support. Solidarity came through collective struggle as the campus and the community stood side-by-side in support of the 15 demands and against the collective power of the campus administration, the Board of Trustees, the City of San Francisco, and the State of California. The following week presaged even greater community support as students from local junior and senior high schools would begin their Christmas breaks. However, on Friday, December 23, as demonstrators began a noon rally, Hayakawa’s voice came over the loudspeakers atop the Administration Building and announced that the campus was being closed for Christmas vacation that day, a week early. Maybe even more startling than the early break was the president signing off his announcement by singing a few bars from, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.”

The first two weeks after the break saw demonstrators strengthening the picket lines around campus. The decision by the Central Labor Council to give strike sanction to the AFT meant that other unions would not cross. Campus operations were effectively shut down. Sympathy strikes on other campuses around the state also grew as students and faculty marched out of classes not only to support the Strike at State, but to issue their own demands. At State, demonstrators continued to picket under attack from the police, as they waded into the lines to make selective arrests or serve warrants on people. At times 19th Avenue was a sea of chaos with the sound of cracking skulls and hoof beats as mounted police from all over California chased demonstrators. The violence became so dramatic that the San Francisco Human Rights Commission urged Mayor Alioto to stop police from making arrests on campus. In defiance of Hayakawa’s proclamation that three or more people grouped together on campus constituted an illegal assembly and determined to take the campus back again, the BSU and TWLF called for a mass rally at noon on January 23.

Everyone knew that confrontation and arrests would ensue that day. I knew that, too, but was consciously absent on the 23rd. Throughout the semester, in addition to picketing, chanting, running from, and fighting the police, I found myself spending most late afternoons and evenings across the street from the jail at Barrish Bail Bonds attempting to secure bail reductions and release for those arrested that day. My second job came about unexpectedly and most likely because I had a car to get from campus to the bail office and was trusted to deal with the money we collected almost daily. Over time I learned how to push the right buttons to get demonstrators out of jail, via bail reductions, family guarantees, and how to quickly arrange bail for those who might face deportation and possible death if not released before an immigration hold kept them incarcerated until deportation. Knowing the potential for a large number of arrests, the owner of the bail office threatened not to bail people out if I were to go to the rally and be arrested that day. Not really believing him but not being sure, I stayed away. I was embarrassed and uncomfortable with my decision but I now believe I was probably right to do what I did.

Although demonstrators marched towards the Speakers Platform fully aware that Hayakawa would respond, the noon rally on the 23rd was massive. As the rally was underway and without any audible warning, the police appeared and quickly moved in pincher formation from all sides to surround the demonstrators. Some at the rally were able to run and get away. Others fought their way through police lines. In the end, 435 people were corralled in what became known as the Mass Bust.

When word arrived at the bail office, everything went into high gear. People had learned to yell out their name when arrested to let others know who they were and had memorized the bail office phone number—I still remember it—to use when making their call from jail. Those arrested at the Mass Bust kept chanting the phone number that was heard on television around the state and, from the response generated, I would guess thoughout the nation. Cash, checks, and phone calls poured in. Faculty, friends, and families came in to co-sign bail forms. Attorneys let us know they were willing to do whatever they could.

Getting everyone out of jail took three days and we worked around the clock. Every eight hours a doctor came by and gave me something to stay awake. Restaurants, especially Magnolia Thunderpussy in the Haight, made sure we had something to eat and that there was always food for those released from jail.

The jail was hectic, too. One woman had been placed in solitary confinement and the other women kept screaming for her release. The response of the jailers was to turn the fire hoses on the women. Once everyone was released, they had to be arraigned before a judge within a few days. There was a mass arraignment for all those arrested in the Mass Bust held in an auditorium at the Hall of “In”justice, just above the jail cells. As was the case at the sit-in arraignment, Hallinan was once again the students’ attorney. Just imagine 435 defendants, their friends and families in one large room. Few of the defendants or their families had much respect left for the System. This was also the time when Laugh-In was one of the most popular shows on television. As the Judge walked on to the stage, without prompting but in unison, the Laugh-In chant went up: “Here comes da Judge. Here comes da judge. Order in the courtroom, here comes da judge.” Only after three pleas by Halllinan did people finally quiet down and let the arraignment proceed.

As spring term began in mid-February, striking students enrolled in classes to be taught by striking teachers to ensure that both groups retained their right to be on campus. Over the previous semester the administration learned that police violence, rather than serving to break the Strike, only forged stronger collective campus resistance and generated greater community support. Working hand-in-hand, the campus administration, the Board of Trustees and the courts focused their efforts on a less visible but highly effective judicial offensive.

By now hundreds of students had to focus attention on lengthy legal battles. In the end, a small number of those arrested in the Mass Bust were acquitted but most were convicted in group trials where they were sentenced to pay a fine, given a suspended sentence and placed on probation, one of the conditions being that they not engage in “illegal” political activity on campus. Those considered leaders of the Strike were all convicted of various misdemeanors and felonies and subsequently sentenced to jail, some for a year or more. On campus, Kangaroo Court disciplinary hearings suspended or expelled students, which made their presence on campus illegal. The Board of Trustees put the AS into receivership, eliminating funds for undesirable student groups and activities, namely the BSU and TWLF. Additionally, student newspapers that supported the Strike were left without funding for publication. Hayakawa himself suspended the activities of the Educational Opportunity Program that served low income and non-White students. The AFT strike lost Labor Council sanction when specific work-related grievances were negotiated. Not only did this force reluctant faculty to return to the classroom but also required other unions that had been supporting the Strike to resume their work.

The 15 non-negotiable demands became negotiable. Hayakawa appointed a Select Committee to meet with the BSU and TWLF Central Committees and, together, they negotiated an end to the Strike. As with all negotiated settlements, neither side could claim complete victory but, on March 21, nearly four and one-half months after the Strike began, a settlement was announced.

The agreement provided for the establishment of a College of Ethnic Studies that would include a Black Studies Department along with departments representing the other ethnic groups involved in the Strike. The Administration committed to fulfilling the “special admissions” quota for underrepresented students and to seek legislative approval for an increase in the percentage of students who would be admitted through such provisions. No agreement was made to maintain all student-run on- and off-campus programs, nor to reconfigure the Office of Financial Aid. No strikers were given amnesty from the university and neither George Murray nor Nathan Hare was given the faculty positions originally demanded. Perhaps most importantly, control over curriculum and hiring and community involvement in the College was not included.

Strike Legacy and Lessons

In the short term, two figures who vigorously opposed the Strike rose to political prominence: S. I. Hayakawa and Ronald Reagan. Hayakawa was elected to the US Senate where his service was mediocre, at best. He was primarily known for his naps on the Senate floor. His one quotable moment came in debate over return of the Panama Canal to Panama during which he claimed that the US had “stolen it fair and square,” and it should remain ours. Governor Reagan became the darling of the conservatives and rode his popularity all the way to the White House. With regard to his tenure as president, (I can only say that to the extent that the Strike propelled him into that position, I apologize to the tens of millions of people in the US and the world who suffered.)

On the other side, my side, the consequences are both concrete as well as less obvious. Forty years after the Strike, San Francisco State (now) University (SFSU) has a College of Ethnic Studies comprised of departments of Africana Studies, Asian American Studies, Native American Studies and Raza Studies, and is still growing. The College has the same status as all other Colleges on campus, which is both positive and negative. The reality of the College of Ethnic Studies is important as previously unexamined experiences are now solidly incorporated into the academic framework not only at SFSU, but on campuses throughout the country. This would have not been possible without the Strike. In order to achieve such legitimacy, however, much of the connection to the community that was a primary focus of the Strike and a major factor leading to its success, has been lost. While a small number of faculty in the College still focus on college-community connections, the structure of the academy has forced the College to adhere to traditional academic benchmarks to maintain its existence: curriculum must be approved by university committees and academically accepted scholarship and publications must drive all hiring, retention, and tenure decisions.

The student community at SFSU is now much more racially diverse, although outside Ethnic Studies most faculty are still White. The student diversity has not necessarily come from Bay Area communities, however, as greater numbers of students are from around the state or are from out-of-state and from other countries. Such students do not always have a connection to the community in which they live and are therefore less likely to make the connection between college and community.

Today, you see more women students and professors. In my own field of study, International Relations, there were few women students in the 1960s and early ’70s. Today, women are a majority of the students and are well represented on the faculty. And, unlike their earlier counterparts, female students are a vocal presence in the classroom. I am an example of one unintended consequence of the Strike, that of women finding their voice through struggle and, in supporting self-determination for others, embarking on their own road to self-determination.

As I write this chapter, SFSU and all public higher education in California is under attack. The Master Plan for Higher Education has been smashed. No longer does California promise an affordable, quality higher education to all who are academically eligible. State budget cuts have led to large increases in student fees, elimination of classes and faculty and pay cuts for all but those in charge of the system. Students can no longer afford a college education and, even if they can bundle together loans and grants, can’t find the classes they need to graduate. Qualified students are even being turned away as there is no more room. Standing in front of an overflow class I ask myself why there is so little outrage now, why everyone grumbles but accepts what is happening. The best answer I can come up with is that times are different.

In the 1960s, the academy as well as the governing system, were exposed as instruments built to serve the controlling interests. Within the US and throughout the world people were collectively organizing and challenging these systems. Nothing was sacred and everything was possible. Looking back, we truly believed that positive change was possible and that we could be the agents of such change. Today no such movements are actively seen as portending possible, positive change. That belief in the possibility of change for the better must be infused into a new generation by actions large and small and with a leadership that can assist students to move in politically participatory directions.

In order to do this, students must learn to act collectively, with those of similar minds off-campus, to challenge a system that is injurious to all. The politics of self-determination must move from the small “we” to the collective “WE.” What gave the Strike its strength was its multiracial character which, under the leadership of the BSU and TWLF, had deep connections to a politically engaged community off-campus. When we stood in solidarity, we had the power to confront the college administration and the state, along with its police and its courts. Together, we won a small battle in what, I hope, is a greater and ultimately successful war. After forty years I still believe that THE PEOPLE UNITED WILL NEVER BE DEFEATED!

''This essay originally appeared in the anthology "Ten Years That Shook the City: San Francisco 1968-78" (City Lights Foundation: 2011), edited by Chris Carlsson.''

[[Image:Ten Years small 87286100958430M.gif]] Find the book at [http://www.citylights.com/book/?GCOI=87286100958430 City Lights]!

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[[category:SFSU]] [[category:OMI/Ingleside]] [[category:1960s]] [[category:dissent]] [[category:African-American]] [[category:Irish]] [[category:women]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

Mission Anti-Displacement Coalition

2014-08-06T23:22:43Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' Historical Essay '''

''by Karl Beitel, 2013''

[[Image:Whiter tablecloths.jpg]]

''Poster: San Francisco Print Collective, Photo: Chris Carlsson''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] The Mission Anti-Displacement Coalition (MAC) would emerge as the city’s most vocal and militant opponent of [[Dot.com Meltdown Real Estate Frenzy Subsides at end of 2000|displacements]] brought about by the digital office conversion boom and, by the summer of 2000, was the principal protagonist leading a groundswell of neighborhood opposition to the digital makeover of the Mission. The origins of MAC can be traced back to a series of regular Monday lunch meetings in the spring of 1999 among Mission Housing, St. Peter’s, Mission Agenda, and People Organized to Demand Environmental and Employment Rights (PODER) to discuss how to respond to gentrification pressures (Feldman 2000a). Feelings of distrust had developed among these organizations over Mission Housing’s involvement with the HOPE VI renovation of Valencia Gardens, a large public housing project in the northern section of the Mission. Mission Agenda and the Eviction Defense Network, in particular, harbored suspicions that Mission Housing, in sponsoring aspects of the HOPE VI renovation, was acting as an agent for carrying out HUD policy, which was serving to expel large numbers of households from one of the city’s last remaining stocks of low-income housing. Accordingly, a goal of these meetings was to rebuild a sense of trust and begin identifying strategies that would forge a broader base of community opposition to gentrification.

MAC also reflected the shift taking place within several of the neighborhood’s nonprofits away from a service-delivery model in favor of community-based organizing. The limits of the direct-service model were becoming increasingly clear as the NASDAQ boom took off. Increased numbers of lower-income, often immigrant, Mission District residents were facing eviction threats as speculative capital flooded the neighborhood. Real estate speculation, often taking the form of housing purchases followed by eviction to convert units into private condominiums, had become more common. Rents were skyrocketing, and the housing stock of the Mission was coming under intensifying pressure from a younger, primarily white, group of newly arriving urban immigrants drawn by the dot-com boom. Activists understood that contesting gentrification would require building and sustaining a legitimate base of popular neighborhood opposition.

Parallel organizing efforts were transpiring among artists and a cluster of predominantly white activists, many of the latter having no particular organizational affiliation. Community forums held at the local performing and visual arts venue Cellspace in 1999 were attended by upwards of one hundred people. Early anti-gentrification forums were put on by the Center for Political Education that drew participation from a range of diverse neighborhood constituencies. While these forums were important in starting a dialogue, they had not as yet yielded any clear organizing strategy or coherent conception about how to unify a widely disparate set of social actors and thereby transform neighborhood anger into effective resistance.

Two specific events were crucial catalysts in the formation of MAC and would inform the subsequent tactics of the organization. The first was a seemingly minor conflict, which occurred in 1999 over a neighborhood flower shop, that provided an important lesson to an emerging generation of younger activists about the regulatory powers vested in local government over land use. Carmen Ramirez, a first-generation immigrant, began receiving complaints from several neighbors about the location of her flower shop on a sidewalk in front of an abandoned lot at Twenty-Third and Shotwell Streets. Ramirez went to the Mission Economic Development Association (MEDA) seeking assistance. News of the dispute reached activists in PODER, who were engaged in organizing campaigns among low-income immigrants and community organizers at Mission Housing. Members of MEDA and Mission Housing jointly went to the Planning Department to begin to investigate the zoning issues raised by the home owners. Ramirez was ultimately able to retain the site; what was significant about this skirmish, beyond the immediate victory, was that it began to reveal to neighborhood organizers the importance of zoning and local government’s land use powers as a potential terrain of engagement in seeking to determine the course of neighborhood redevelopment (Quezada 2002).

The second event was a public split within the ranks of the Mission’s old guard nonprofit sector that had originally been consolidated under the Model Cities program between 1968 and 1973. The immediate context of this split was the sale of the Armory building, a large multistory structure, to property developers who proposed converting the site into a digital incubator and startup server farm. In February 2000, several nonprofits—Mission Neighborhood Centers, MEDA, Mission Hiring Hall, and Arriba Juntos—with roots in the [[MCO and Latino Community Formation|Mission Coalition Organization]], which was formed in 1968, convened a meeting of the Mission Planning Coalition to discuss the projected impact of the [[Armory|Armory]] on the Mission. Representatives from Mission Housing, St. Peter’s, PODER, and Mission Agenda were also present. When discussion turned to developers’ attempts to garner support for the proposed redevelopment through promises of monetary donations and jobs to local nonprofits, Sam Ruiz, director of Mission Neighborhood Centers, stood up and publicly accused David Bracker, director of Arriba Juntos, of “selling out the community” over deals cut with SKS Investment in return for support for a large office complex then being proposed at a site on Twentieth and Bryant Streets (Quezada 2002). The confrontation revealed a split in the older generation of established community organizations. This fissure undermined any presumption of consensus behind the pursuit of patronage strategies that sought to extract minor concessions from developers. Most important, the denouncement by Ruiz, a longtime member of the old guard, conferred legitimacy to organizations seeking to adopt a more confrontational posture in response to developers. Ruiz’s statement thus made it easier to discredit those like Bracker, who were advocating for a more conciliatory, and corporatist, approach, and allowed younger organizers to credibly claim to represent the interests of the neighborhood’s Latino constituencies in future negotiations with the local land use bureaucracy.

MAC was officially founded shortly thereafter, with the core activist-leaders drawn from Mission Housing, St. Peter’s, and PODER. MAC developed a list of demands that provided a framework for mobilizing political pressure on the San Francisco Planning Department. The demands MAC laid out stipulated a moratorium on the following: new market-rate housing and live-work lofts in the Mission, office conversion and new digital office construction, and illegal conversions and occupation of live-work lofts by Internet businesses. In addition, MAC called for the full funding of a community planning process to rezone the Mission. Four subcommittees were formed. The Base-Building Committee was to develop specific outreach campaigns and events that targeted primarily Latino and Spanish-speaking working-class households and youth. This resulted in a community forum on October 26 to provide tenant rights information to Latino and Spanish-speaking residents. The Land Use Community Planning Committee began to undertake a comprehensive survey of land use patterns in the NEMIZ area and drafted a report on shifts in land use between 1992 and 2000, which would provide the basis for rezoning recommendations aimed at protecting existing businesses and residents. Other committees that were formed included the Direct Action Committee, which planned protest events and rallies, and the Structure Committee, charged with internal logistics. The result was that by the spring of 2000, MAC was holding regular weekly meetings that began to draw in Mission District artists and large numbers of white activists without specific institutional affiliations.

The first public action coordinated by MAC occurred when activists attended Planning Commission hearings on the proposed Armory building project. Coalition members testified against the proposal on the grounds that it would exacerbate parking problems, increase housing demand, and drive up land values in immediately adjacent areas. These arguments were to no avail, and the project was given the green light by the Planning Commission.

The set of events that triggered an upsurge in neighborhood mobilization and projected MAC into the citywide political debate involved the Planning Commission’s approval of an office conversion project at Twentieth and Bryant Streets. The site had been purchased in 1999 by SKS Investment and slated for conversion into a 159,000-square-foot office complex. SKS displaced nearly sixty small businesses, nonprofits, and artists from the building, including a sweater factory, a furniture factory, a sex toy factory, a custom garment maker, a nonprofit publisher, four dozen photographers, graphic artists, sound designers, and filmmakers, including the award-winning Latina filmmaker Lourdes Partillo. Anger over the mass eviction was widespread. A Planning Commission hearing on the project was convened on May 4 at which twenty-seven activists testified against the proposed development by pointing to a host of negative “externalities” that would result if the Planning Commission approved the plan (Feldman 2000a). It was estimated that the project would generate approximately 510 new jobs but without adequate provisions made to absorb an estimated demand of 172 additional units for prospective employees seeking to reside in San Francisco. Activists cited a Planning Department Environmental Impact Report (see San Francisco Planning Department 1999a) that estimated 68 percent of those employed at the site would drive to work, in contrast to a then-citywide average of 28 percent of San Francisco residents commuting by car within the city limits. This would lead to increased traffic flow and negatively affect an already worsening parking situation in the neighborhood (San Francisco Planning Department 2000; for an analysis of options regarding land use, see San Francisco Planning Department 1999b).

The Planning Commission ignored neighborhood concerns and approved the Twentieth and Bryant project. Opponents immediately filed an appeal of the Planning Commission decision that deferred final project approval to the Board of Supervisors. The board initially indicated that public hearings on the issue would take place in July or August. Backstage lobbying efforts by SKS succeeded in moving the hearing to June 26, with public notice being sent out only three days prior to the rescheduled date (CELL 2000). Outraged, MAC activists organized a protest at the June 26 hearing and asked for a two-week continuation in order to work out a compromise. The motion failed, and the eight board members, closely aligned with Mayor Brown, voted to approve the project (Newinski 2000).

The Twentieth and Bryant project catalyzed the mounting sense of outrage at the perceived favoritism shown to developers by the Planning Commission and the Board of Supervisors. Both the commission and the board were closely tied to Mayor Brown and operated largely at his behest. Their intransigence in response to the unified show of neighborhood opposition was taken as evidence of the degree to which real estate interests were dictating the planning process. Seeking to up the stakes, in June 2000 MAC organized a raucous protest in front of the Planning Department offices. Planning Department chief Gerald Green eventually appeared and agreed to attend a MAC-sponsored meeting in the Mission to hear the list of grievances. More than five hundred people turned out for a June 28 planning meeting at Horace Mann School, with neighborhood residents providing more than three hours of testimony (Feldman 2000a; Kim 2000b). MAC presented a list of demands, calling for a complete moratorium on all new development in the Mission and the creation and funding of community planning forums to allow for impact assessments and neighborhood input regarding the approval process. Green refused to agree to a moratorium on new development, while pledging support for funding a community planning process; no specifics of what this might entail were discussed. The Horace Mann meeting galvanized a new level of neighborhood opposition and allowed MAC to claim that it was the legitimate representative of the Mission community. The coalition conducted ongoing negotiations over the impacts and solutions to the problems created by the development boom. MAC would henceforth function as the lead organization representing the interests of the Mission in future dealings with developers and government officials (Kim 2000c; Feldman 2000a; Newinski 2000).

Another large-scale eviction occurred in the summer of 2000 at the Bay View Bank building located in the center of the barrio at Mission and Twenty-Second Streets. In the summer of 1999, the Bay View building had been purchased by the Cort Family trust (“Going, Going, Gone!” 1999). The Cort family was by then a major player in the high-tech makeover of the NEMIZ and had drawn the ire of Mission District residents back in 1998 for whitewashing over a five-thousand-square-foot mural on the Lilli Ann building, which the trust had purchased in the north Mission to redevelop into live-work and digital industrial spaces. The mural, which once covered the entire side of the Lilli Ann building with sharp geometrical shapes and a bright primary color scheme, is today a large, white uniform space—seen by some as a fitting emblem of the homogenizing effects of gentrification.

Groups and organizations evicted from the Bay View Bank building included a Spanish television network (Telemundo Channel 48), two Spanish newspapers (El Tecolote and El Reportero), several Spanish-speaking radio stations (Radio Unica), and numerous social service agencies and organizations serving the barrio’s working-class and immigrant populations, such as small business consulting agencies, child care referral agencies, family and immigration lawyers, and medical offices serving the local population (Constantinou 1999). The Bay View Bank building was subsequently rented to the Internet start-up Bigstep.com. In September 2000, MAC led more than sixty demonstrators to the Bigstep.com offices and, after a tense moment of confrontation with the police, succeeded in getting several executives from Bigstep.com to agree to an on-site meeting with fifteen activists. Two reporters were allowed to be present. MAC demanded that Bigstep.com apply for a conditional use permit and find equivalent space for the displaced residents. Bigstep.com responded by offering to provide 10 percent of the building to nonprofits at below-market rents. No resolution was forthcoming (Miller 2000).

Protests continued throughout the summer of 2000. On August 12, MAC sponsored a caminata (a “walk”), through the Mission district that visited sites at which evictions had taken place. The walk drew more than one thousand people representing a broad mix of Mission residents (“Caminata” 2000, 7). MAC also organized several pickets and protests over the planned conversion of the Armory building, arguing that no provisions had been made to ensure local hiring or to adequately mitigate impacts on housing and local parking access.

Body Count 

Organizations housed at Twentieth and Bryant and the Bay View Bank were not the only groups suffering from displacement by the onrush of Internet commerce. The deleterious impact on artists was such that in 1999 the arts community fast-tracked a massive survey to determine the extent of the problem facing artists and nonprofit cultural agencies under duress from the boom (Hendrix 2000). Soaring rents would likewise extract a toll. The Cartoon Art Museum had to contend with a monthly rent hike of from $9,000 to $20,000, and the Dancers’ Group in the Mission District saw its rent raised from $3,000 to $15,000 per month (Newinski 2000). The Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender Historical Society faced a sharp rent increase and struggled to find a means to stay in the city. The Names Project—the group that created the AIDS quilt— was forced from the space where the first AIDS quilt was created, at the corner of Castro and Market Streets. Communities for a Better Environment, one of the Bay Area’s largest environmental advocacy groups, was forced to move to downtown Oakland after rents in the SOMA office building in which it was located tripled overnight. Specialty stores were being forced to relocate. As one small business owner lamented, “The hardest part about this is the feeling that it’s not just here [referring to her own situation of being evicted], but everywhere, the overall homogenization of society. San Francisco was not always that way. The new people don’t know what it was like, so they don’t know what they are missing” (quoted in Hendrix 2000).

This wave of unprecedented displacement of established community institutions and small businesses has led many to bemoan what they see as the final stage in the homogenization of San Francisco. As Michael Yaki, one of San Francisco’s supervisors at the time, stated:

<blockquote>It [the massive dislocation of existing businesses] can bring changes as profound as any seismic event. If this market continues and the available space continues to shrink, two, three or four years down the road we will start seeing a significant difference in the profile of what’s around here. A lot of niche small businesses that can’t afford these rents will be gone in favor of only those that can pay. . . . It’s more than economic Darwinism—it’s more like a tsunami. (Quoted in Hendrix 2000)</blockquote>

Real estate agents remained generally unyielding. One property manager was quoted as saying:

<blockquote>It was difficult at first [to tell tenants of the rent increases], but after a while tenants realized that’s happened to the whole area, not just our building, and they became more educated about what the entire city is charging. (Quoted in Hendrix 2000) </blockquote>

Educated, perhaps, but still facing eviction. 

As for the “invading” urban entrants flush with microchip gold, the attitude toward the urban spaces within which they were staking out their own territorial claims was perhaps more complex than what was often imputed by those reeling under the strains of the dot-com boom (see Slaton 1999). Many of San Francisco’s newer arrivals were drawn by the promise of urban diversity and the attraction of living in a “real” neighborhood. On the other hand, the dot-com boom brought with it an undeniable air of hubris and arrogance. Boosters of the “new dawn” envisioned themselves as cutting-edge agents of an epochal social transformation that was annihilating all established habits of thought and outmoded ways of conducting business. What was notable about the culture and ethos of the period was the ability of capitalist entrepreneurs to appropriate the language and symbols of countercultural rebellion. A pervasive ethos of “think different” infused the relentless hype that the Internet was perhaps the most significant transformative moment in the entire history of (global) capitalism. Entrepreneurialism was reconfigured as a type of transgressive practice. In this mythology of capitalism as transgression and cutting-edge rebellion, the central city was (re)presented as a site within which these newly released transformative impulses circulated through a dense network of flexible partnerships between high-tech businesses, fueled by a constant process of permanent innovation. A semiotics of “industrial chic” provided the aesthetic backdrop through which the former industrial wasteland was reappropriated as a high-tech urban playground.

Beneath the hype of business as a new form of transgression, a far more cold and repressive current was circulating through San Francisco’s eastern corridors. Those with the means to afford these spaces could live protected by high-tech security systems, with access to private interior gardens and sitting rooms, as well as off-street parking spaces protected by computer-controlled iron garages. New principles of exclusion were at work, exercised through the ability to retreat inside the security of these private and exclusionary residential spaces protected by gated security systems and brightly lit entranceways. The loft conveyed a relation of social distance and distinction. In a city suffering from an acute housing crisis, the ability to command an excess of the most scarce and desired resource—namely, residential space—and the quasi-public display of this wealth in the form of rooms with twenty-foot-high ceilings lighted by designer track lights evoked a new sense of exclusive class status and privilege. Much of the resentment generated by these buildings derived from this type of ostentatious consumption of space evoked when one looked up from the street, where relations of class privilege were symbolized by the high ceilings, the gated entrances, and the designer overhead track lighting that illuminated the interior world of the salariat, a world at once in near physical proximity and socially far away.

[[Image:Homeless-mural 5211.jpg]]

'''This mural ironically juxtaposing a fallen Statue of Liberty and its promise to the reality of mass homelessness was painted in the early 1990s by Joanna Poethig in the South of Market neighborhood.'''

''Photo: Chris Carlsson''

For boosters of urban revitalization, the dot-com boom was bringing economic opportunity in its wake. Money circulated through the consumption circuits, jobs became more abundant, and the rising tide would eventually lift all boats. In fact, few of the new jobs were employing existing working-class residents, and small businesses and neighborhoods serving nonprofits were being forced out. While perhaps unfortunate, such was the cost of economic and social progress, according to its most vociferous proponents. In actuality, the discourse of economic improvement often functioned to conceal a profound contempt and disregard for the poor and working class, who figured into this revitalization discourse as the disadvantaged population in need of encouragement, bolstering, and moral regeneration. This allowed boosters to reimagine gentrification as a means for providing residents of the barrio with role models and the necessary motivation to work hard and improve their lot in life.

Ironically, for all the evocation of the “cult of the new” built into the mythology of the “new economy,” we here encounter a timeworn story of the need, and indeed the imperative, for bringing the poor into contact with members of the upwardly mobile middle class. Residential cohabitation with the lower classes allows for the transmission of cultural norms that promise to lift the social and cultural level of the urban poor. Values of moral habilitation are fused with the story of the urban frontier being reclaimed by an upstanding, hardworking, and virtuous middle class. What has changed is the means through which this moralizing influence is transmitted. In place of the social work agencies and the middle-class reformers of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, for whom the moral degeneracy of the working classes living in the tenements was cause for concern and in place of large-scale infusions of public money, such as those that occurred in the 1960s, the virtues of hard work and self-discipline were now transmitted through the promotion of a policy of “spatial mix” of populations of varying incomes and social stations.(2) Giving free rein to speculation and commerce is required to make way for progress. The past is thereby purged from the everyday world of the gentrifying salariat, who experience the urban world as both a site of encounter with difference and a world in need of the civilizing influence of commerce.

<hr>

[[Image:Karl-book-2258 reg.gif|left]] ''Excerpts from pages 88-75 and pages 85-91 from [http://www.temple.edu/tempress/titles/2258_reg.html '''Local Protest, Global Movements: Capital, Community, and State In San Francisco'''] by Karl Beitel. Used by permission of Temple University Press. © 2013 by Temple University. All Rights Reserved.''

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[[category:Dissent]] [[category:Mission]] [[category:1990s]] [[category:2000s]] [[category:gentrification]] [[category:housing]] [[category:SOMA]] [[category:Public Art]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

MCO and Latino Community Formation

2014-08-06T23:21:30Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' Historical Essay '''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] [[Image:13.gif|64px|left]] '''Listen to an excerpt from "All Those Who Care About the Mission, Stand Up With Me!" by Tomas Sandoval (read by Adriana Camarena):'''

<iframe src="https://archive.org/embed/13TenYearsMissionCoalitionOrganization" width="500" height="30" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen="true" mozallowfullscreen="true" allowfullscreen></iframe>

by [http://www.archive.org/download/13TenYearsMissionCoalitionOrganization/13TomasSandovalFolsomAnd23rdMastered2.mp3 mp3].

<hr>

[[Image:Tenyears-tour-02.gif|link=Womens Liberation Changed Medicine]] 
Previous stop: [[Communalism in San Francisco|Flowering communalism]] 
Next Stop #14: [[Womens Liberation Changed Medicine| Women's self-health]]

<hr>

Beginning in 1967, the largely working-class, heavily immigrant, and decidedly multiracial neighborhood of the Mission District underwent a profound transformation. Incited by the specter of urban redevelopment, and set against the backdrop of local movements for racial justice, this multigenerational population of both the politically-active and previously uninvolved came together under the common cause of community as embodied in the MCO. Called the “largest urban popular mobilization in San Francisco’s recent history,” they united for jobs, housing, education reform, and the power to implement their collective vision.(2) In the process, they asserted a powerful sense of cultural citizenship, “of claiming what is their own, of defending it, and of drawing sustenance and strength from that defense.”(3) By 1973, when the [[The Truth Behind MCO: Model Cities--End of the Mission|formal organization declined]], the Mission remained a far more cohesive community than it was before, reshaping their sense of collective identity in fundamental ways.

[[Image:MCO-activist-addresses-Supervisor-Terry-Francois.jpg]]

'''MCO Housing Chair Flor de Maria Crane speaks with Supervisor Terry Francois and Assemblyman Willie L. Brown, Jr. (at right) during press conference, c. 1971.'''

''Photo: Spence Limbocker, courtesy [http://eltecolote.org/content/ El Tecolote] archives''

Designed as a [[Neighborhood Politics|grassroots, multi-issue coalition]] composed of scores of local organizations, the MCO actively involved 12,000 residents who sought democratic control over their neighborhood on behalf of the more than 70,000 people who lived there. At its height, the MCO became an institutional force, both the recognized voice of the district in political circles and the local group controlling funds from the Model Cities Program—a 1966 community development effort by the federal government mandating citizen participation. Through an assortment of programs and campaigns, they made lasting and meaningful changes to the infrastructure of everyday life for both contemporary and succeeding generations of local residents. The legacy of the MCO—balanced on a multiracial and working-class population successfully claiming rights and ownership over their neighborhood—extends beyond the programmatic. In the ways it envisioned its collective effort, and integrated and deployed the racial/ethnic diversity of the Mission, the MCO nurtured a collective community identity within the population largely of Latin American descent. As a result, they recreated the historic community identity of the Mission District, substantively rooting a hybrid and shifting form of class-based ''latinidad'' in the neighborhood, an identity which continues to shape its present in myriad ways.

[[Image:MCO-1972-5th-annual-convention-at-USF.jpg|720px]]

'''MCO's 5th annual convention, 1972, at USF.'''

''Photo: [http://eltecolote.org/content/ El Tecolote] archives''

“We are mainly a Latin American community which is proud of its heritage,” proclaimed Ben Martinez at the second annual convention of the Mission Coalition Organization (MCO). Standing before more than 800 community leaders—collectively representing 81 local civil rights, labor, church, and community organizations—Martinez publicly recognized the new dominant racial/ethnic group in the Mission as the foundation of coalition-building. “But this is also a mixed community,” he continued, “and I know that the Samoan, the Black, the Italian, the Irish, the Filipino, the American Indian, the Anglo, and every other group in this community is proud of its heritage.” Speaking as president of the MCO in October 1969, Martinez had already overseen a growth in membership, programs, and public reputation for the fledgling organization. Now, hoping for more success, he addressed a looming limitation to the collective and grassroots effort of this poor, diverse neighborhood. “It is in our interest to recognize the identity each of us has, and then to go from that point to developing a working program that will meet all of our interests.”(1)

In the spring of 1966, the cause of urban renewal served as the catalyst for this transformation. On the surface, the Mission seemed an ideal candidate for renewal, or publicly-funded development to cure urban blight. By mid-decade, however, the promise of federal dollars for local redevelopment created a backlash within poor and working-class communities in the City. An urban renewal project in the Western Addition, rather than improving life for the primarily Black, working-class residents, resulted in massive dislocation, leaving the area’s core surrounded with vacant lots, public housing units, and a growing crime rate. Widely studied as an example of failed urban planning, and popularly understood as urban removal, by the 1960s the bureaucratic buzzwords of “urban redevelopment” incited fear among the City’s communities of color. Not surprisingly, when rumors of a proposed study by the San Francisco Redevelopment Agency (SFRA) circulated through the Mission, constituencies as seemingly disparate as landlord and tenant found a common ground of opposition.

In 1966 the SFRA secured funds for a study of the “Mission Street Corridor,” the core of the district where BART construction would be located. Almost immediately, local property and business groups organized their opposition. Led by realtor Mary Hall and self-described “right-wing populist” Jack Bartalini, the conservative group included longtime homeowners’ associations like the Potrero Hill Boosters, East Mission Improvement Association, and Noe Valley Improvement Club, in addition to local merchants. Each feared the proposed clearance of deteriorating properties and the forced relocation of businesses, labeling the downtown-led redevelopment “creeping socialism.”(4)

Bartalini and Hall spoke for constituencies with political clout but a diminishing presence in the Mission. These mostly White, propertied residents with long roots in the district had been joined in the previous decade by a multiracial mix of migrants, most with roots in Latin America. Local officials and the press noticed the growth of the Spanish-speaking population at roughly the same time as the growing exodus of White ethnics and declining conditions in the Mission, leading some to suggest the two were connected. One local resident expressed the views of many when he described the Mission as “running down something awful. Twenty years ago, my wife and I used to stroll around the block after supper, but the streets aren’t safe at night anymore.” To others, the newcomers represented the future potential of the neighborhood, informing formal efforts to assure “they’ll want to stay.”(5) Indeed, in the eyes of many informal leaders of the neighborhood, the multiracial population embodied the strength that had always marked the Mission’s past. As one local priest put it, “whether they were Spanish-speaking, English-speaking, or they came from Nicaragua or Guatemala—whatever part of the world—they were neighbors.”(6)

Though few noticed, the “new” Mission had already begun addressing the issues of working-class renters in a neighborhood in structural decline. These Latin American organizational efforts also helped constitute the collective voice of the new majority in the struggle against redevelopment. For their constituencies, the prospect of urban renewal was mixed—it meant the possibility of new jobs in both construction and subsequent business and commercial development, but at a potentially fatal cost. Even the SFRA estimated the “improvement activities” would result in the displacement of “1,900 families and 1,300 single individuals.”(7) When coupled with the known outcome of earlier development plans, leaders of Latin American descent knew that any future their constituencies had in the City depended on their ability to organize an effective opposition. Just such a coalition began to emerge when organizations—all in some way committed to empowerment of the Latin American community—began to craft a unified voice for the Spanish-speaking.

The Latino wing of the opposition included groups like the local chapter of the Community Service Organization (CSO), a statewide, grassroots Mexican-American group with a presence in the City since the 1950s. One of their local leaders, Herman Gallegos, was perhaps the most respected Latino voice in the City at the time. While still a part of the CSO, Gallegos helped establish OBECA/Arriba Juntos, a pro-integration effort “to prepare Hispano Americans to enter the job market.” Based out of Catholic Charities, the group’s other leader—Leandro Soto—had begun helping Latinos connect their needs to federal efforts as part of the War on Poverty. Their interests were further served by groups like: the Mexican American Political Association (MAPA) and the League of Latin American Citizens (LULAC), both decidedly political organizations; the Catholic Council for the Spanish Speaking, an institutional effort holding some influence in this decidedly Catholic town; and the Mexican American Unity Council, Puerto Rican Club of San Francisco, and others dedicated to cultural, educational, and civic endeavors. As established and respected organizations, each added credibility to the anti-redevelopment movement, as did leaders like Gallegos, perhaps the informal representative for the Spanish-speaking in local politics.

Other groups also lent support, further suggesting the depth of local opposition. Local labor—who theoretically had much to gain from redevelopment—added another base of anti-redevelopment support. The Mission’s most prominent union was the Building and Construction Workers Union, Local 261; their support came most visibly via Abel Gonzalez, head of the union caucus [[Centro Social Obrero|Centro Social Obrero]]. Focusing on service issues for the Spanish-speaking population in the union, the Obreros had made a name for themselves through their popular English-language classes and citizenship programs. The Catholic Church remained a force in both neighborhood and citywide politics. Many of the City’s priests, committed to a philosophy of social change, viewed support for the poor as synonymous to their religious ideal of service. Protestant churches, overcome by a progressive mission mentality, were already involved in local race politics, seeking to improve the material conditions of life in the City’s ghettos and barrios. Reverend William R. Grace, director of the Department of Urban Work in the Presbyterian Church, sought social change by implementing the grassroots model for change designed by Saul Alinsky. Grace’s assistant, Reverend David Knotts, already worked as a minister in the Mission.

Serving as a counterbalance to the conservative alliance represented by Bartalini and Hall, the Mission’s radical Left—consistently dedicated to fighting for the rights of the local poor—added another oppositional voice to the diverse mix. Skeptical of government-sponsored community development and proponents of mobilizing communities for their own control, the Progressive Labor (PL) Party worked to create a meaningful movement for change among the district’s poor. Led by [[Organizing the Mission District Before the MCO (1964-1968)|John Ross]], and finding organizational and representational focus in the Mission Tenants’ Union (MTU), their neighborhood influence flowered as they became widely-known as a credible voice for the rights of poor renters. As evidence of their success, despite their espoused dedication to a Marxist ideal, even politically-moderate church leaders sent their parishioners to the MTU when experiencing problems with their landlords.

Individually, each organization represented a slice of the Mission District. Joined together under the threat of redevelopment, they left few recognizable constituencies unrepresented. This unlikely merging of the neighborhood’s political and demographic diversity began in earnest when Bartalini called Ross. Revs. Grace and Knotts also saw the issue as a potential catalyst for a broad-based community movement. These varied efforts culminated in 1966 with the creation of the Mission Council on Redevelopment (MCOR). Though Bartalini and Hall demanded MCOR stand unequivocally opposed to the SFRA plans, the organizational base was more interested in creating an authentic representational body whose voice City Hall could not ignore. Only in that way could residents control their neighborhood’s future. To preserve that possibility, they did not oppose urban renewal, but instead sought the power of the veto over its local manifestation. Recognizing that goal could only be met if they legitimately represented their neighborhood, MCOR recruited the Catholic network, the Obreros, block clubs and tenants’ associations, Protestant churches, and various Latino organizations.

[[Image:Barrett-We-Demand-to-Negotiate-MCO-w-picketers.jpg|420px|left|thumb|MCO picketers outside of Mission District building, 1970; ''Photo: [http://eltecolote.org/content/ El Tecolote] archives'']] MCOR represented the authentic diversity of the Mission, inclusive of poor and middle class, propertied and renter, Catholic and Protestant, and the multiracial population who called it home. The Mission Renewal Commission—comprised of large, local merchants—represented the lone, local voice supporting urban renewal. Consistently asking, “Where am I in this picture?” as plans progressed, MCOR demanded everyday people be considered as redevelopment came before the Mission and, later, the Board of Supervisors. Though the homeowners left MCOR in opposition to their willingness to negotiate, and the Obreros and other labor groups provided only minimal support, MCOR emerged successful in the early winter. When Mayor Shelley could not accede to an MCOR veto, the group sought to scuttle any redevelopment efforts. In December 1966, faced with the overwhelming opposition of most of the community, the Board of Supervisors squashed renewal.(8)

Once they won the Board’s vote, MCOR—organized as a single-issue coalition—ceased activity in early 1967. The Mission, however, still confronted the fundamental issues inciting the city’s redevelopment crusade. In one square mile tract, representing the heart of the district, more than 2,000 units out of 15,000 were classified as deteriorating. Two hundred and sixty-two homes were listed as dilapidated. Local groups estimated that by the mid-1960s only 20% of the residents owned their own home. Additionally, residents confronted an inadequate education system, a lack of jobs and job training, and no effective political voice. Local grassroots organizers, in particular those focused on Latinos, sought to sustain the level of activism beyond MCOR. Single-issue and diffuse campaigns garnered some attention and success, notably revealing an emerging, new leadership. A young Latina named Elba Tuttle rose up in the Mission Area Community Action Board (MACABI). Martinez achieved prominence within the OBECA group. Reflective of the growth of Latino labor, Gonzalez and the Obreros helped secure the electoral victory of [[Mayor Joe Alioto|Mayor Joseph Alioto]]. As the War on Poverty began to provide funds for varied community efforts, community members also nurtured their political and organizational development. The lack of a cohesive effort, however, as well as growing conflicts over federal funds, revealed the deep fissures which remained due to the divisions of race, nationality, and generations. Mission activists were learning that “overcoming poverty is not simply a matter of political will; it is and has become even more one of political structure.”(9)

[[Image:Manuel-Larez-and-Elba-Tuttle-c-1970-72.jpg]]

'''Manuel Larez, Elba Tuttle, and two others, c. 1971.'''

''Photo: [http://eltecolote.org/content/ El Tecolote] archives''

The potential for structure seen in MCOR’s organizing strategies presented itself again in February 1968 at the Spanish-Speaking Issues Conference sponsored by MACABI. Mayor Alioto, speaking before the group, suggested he would seek Model Cities funds if a “broad-based group representative of the Mission” so desired.(10) The Model Cities Program—part of the Demonstration Cities and Metropolitan Development Act of 1966—provided funds for community improvements ranging from structural development to issues like housing, education, employment, and health. Realizing the potential for a more sustained grassroots coalition, Rev. Knotts, Tuttle, Martinez, and others took the lead. By June 1968, a coalition of about 25 groups formed, calling themselves Temporary Mission Coalition Organization (TMCO)

Several key principles guided the MCO. First, it strove to be a multi-issue organization. Another was the principle of democracy, suggested by several structural elements such as a steering committee, which met weekly; a monthly council meeting; and an annual convention of member organizations. They remained dedicated to nonviolence, hoping to utilize the full tactical range of the Civil Rights Movement. Finally, they believed they could only succeed if they were representative. The commitment to a broad-based movement meant any and all identifiable constituencies in the Mission must be allowed to join. That meant making room for organizations with varied membership bases, as well as clear constituencies without active organizational outlets. They needed to represent the diversity of the Mission, a neighborhood composed of Central Americans (Nicaraguans and Salvadorans being the largest two groups, followed by ethnic Mexicans), Puerto Ricans, and South Americans, as well as Irish, Italian, German, Russian, Filipino, Native American/Indian, Samoan, and African-American constituencies. Organizers began their work of mobilizing support for the MCO’s inaugural convention, carefully strategizing to unify a cosmopolitan neighborhood.

As the first mass meeting of the MCO, the convention would foster their democratic ideal by providing for the selection of officials, committees, and bylaws. But it could only work if a representative group showed up. As the organizing group’s leader, Martinez sought to harness the support of labor, who had only been lukewarm participants in MCOR. Exploiting his close ties to Gonzalez, he recruited the Obreros, and Local 261 also provided financial support. Tuttle and John McReynolds focused on organizing the grassroots constituencies for the convention. Mike Miller—with connections to Saul Alinsky and experience in SNCC—was hired as the full-time community organizer. The United Presbyterian Church donated money and staff support, in the assignment of Rev. Knotts. The Roman Catholic Archdiocese of the city was also on board. Though diverse, like MCOR, the MCO relied on a broad Latino organizational base.

At the first convention, in October 1968, over sixty organizations participated, representing an attendance of between six and seven hundred. Almost immediately, the gathering exposed the tensions within the district. Seemingly a debate on political tactics, the tensions also exposed a generational divide. Established and fairly mainstream organizations sought control over Model Cities funds, a status only assured if the city recognized the MCO as the legitimate representative in the district. To a varied youth contingent empowered by local, radical politics, this suggested a kind of reformism out of step with meaningful change. Groups like the Mission Rebels in Action, for example—an active youth-serving agency—embodied a militant posture. Seeing convention leaders as “sell-outs,” the Rebels took to the stage during the proceedings, seized the microphone, and called the gathering a “farce.” As the ''San Francisco Chronicle'' reported, the Rebels then tried to nominate their own platform of leaders.(11) While their tactics upset most in the audience—especially those who knew the group was partially funded by the Equal Oppportunity Commission and, hence, part of the aid bureaucracy in the Mission—the group did manage to stall the agenda.

[[Image:Mission rebels 1970s.jpg|720px]]

'''Mission Rebels, c. 1970.'''

''Photo: [http://eltecolote.org/content/ El Tecolote] archives''

The convention might have ended in disarray if not for the fortuitous scheduling of keynote speaker Cesar Chavez. Too ill to attend the meeting in person and confined to a hospital bed, Chavez spoke by telephone to the crowd. Quieting the room, Chavez addressed the need for collaboration, inadvertently diffusing the confrontation. Promoting a hybrid ethnic/racial identity infused with class sensibilities, Chavez cautioned against the disabling effects of in-fighting and inaction:

<blockquote>''The poor have much in common, common dreams and desires of social justice. The question of goals should not be a problem. The question that kills coalitions is the inability to take that first step in the most common causes, and that is, to determine who is an adversary…La Raza to me was the whole human race.''(12)</blockquote>

His plea did not move everyone, as Mission Rebels leader Jesse James took to the microphone once again and proclaimed, “You’re being used again and you don’t even know it.” Accusing MCO leadership of being an inauthentic voice he said, “You’re speaking about community and you don’t even live here.”

Sensing a favorable response to Chavez’s words, Gallegos, moderator of the convention, challenged James to work in the spirit of cooperation. According to local reports, he then chastised the Rebels, saying, “a lot of people out here want a better place to live and you’re not letting them.” In a simple yet moving articulation of common cause and interrelation, he shouted, “All those who care about the Mission, stand up with me!” The convention majority took to their feet, effectively neutralizing the Rebels. They agreed to a compromise, allowing last-minute nominations from the floor. The convention proceeded, electing officers, committees, and bylaws. The organizational platform was tabled to a later meeting.

Unwilling to support the organization, the Mission Rebels remained in small company. Composed primarily of Black youth, with some Latinos, whites, and Samoans, the Rebels could not envision cooperation beyond their own organizational interests. Other constituency groups also disagreed with the MCO vision but stayed and participated. Members of the PL Party, for example, whose Mission Tenants’ Union took decidedly radical stances, objected to the use of conciliatory language in the MCO platform, but worked for compromise. Others who disagreed with the MCO never attended, such as the various homeowners’ associations represented by Bartalini and Hall.

The second half of the convention concluded in November 1968. There, the MCO solidified an organizational structure and established a platform, all while the heated debate reached a provisional consensus. The PL Party continued to voice concern over some of platform resolutions, wanting a more forcefully militant language along with a list of direct issues to focus the MCO’s work. The compromise came with the agreed use of moderate language while adopting the platform of advocating tenants’ rights, reducing unemployment, improving police-community relations, and attending to various education issues. Another disagreement arose over the stance on Model Cities, with the conference leadership advocating a desired participatory stance. Embodying the majority’s agreement, the convention approved a thirteen point platform outlining future Model Cities involvement. The platform included the demand for absolute veto power within the Model Cities program and the right to name two-thirds of the Model Cities Neighborhood Corporation—a 21 member representative body charged with making decisions as demanded by the federal requirement for community participation. Veto power meant the MCO could stop any redevelopment effort it thought adversely affected the community. The demand for two-thirds control meant the ability of the MCO to exert absolute community control over federal funds. As the staff organizer Mike Miller remarked, “The lesson of words vs. real power was yet to be observed.”

[[Image:Larry-del-Carlo-and-2-others-w-MCO-sign.jpg]]

'''Larry del Carlo (left), Chair of the MCO Jobs and Employment Committee and MCO's 2nd Executive Vice President, with Segundo Lopez, Chair of the MCO phone company negotiating committee.'''

''Photo: Spence Limbocker, courtesy of [http://eltecolote.org/content/ El Tecolote] archives''

Even considering the non-participation of certain Mission District interests, the foundational convention of the MCO emboldened the hundreds of participants. With 24 year-old president Martinez at the helm, the Coalition began the work of organizing the community into a mass movement as they sought to meaningfully address community issues and secure local control of Model Cities funds. As Martinez framed it, “We don’t want the money unless we in the Mission have a major voice in how it will be spent.”(13) This commitment to self-determination—described by Martinez as “the opposite of colonialism, which is a system in which someone else says he knows what is best for you and in which he has the power to make you do what he thinks is best for you. We want to decide what is best for us”—came with the participation of now more than 80 local organizations and nearly a thousand residents by its second convention. In less than a year, the MCO would become one of the most effective community coalitions in US history as they got to work addressing neighborhood needs while mobilizing for a head-to-head battle with the Board of Supervisors.

Already the generationally-infused political rift between moderate and radical had dominated the first convention. Illustrative of the local assortment of student, antiwar, and racial movements embodying a high degree of coherence between radical ideologies and their practices, youth increasingly professed a politics only minimally finding purchase within the older generation. Additionally, a far more widespread and long-standing tension was comprised of the rivalries between nationalities, in particular the resentment between an ethnic Mexican population (with longer roots in the city) and a more recently arrived Central American population.

Despite representing roughly forty percent of the Latino population in the City, ethnic Mexicans most often occupied positions of greater visibility and power in local politics, much as they did within the Spanish-speaking cultural milieu of the city. Their dominance helped nurture the integration of new migrants from Latin America, whether they came from Mexico or Nicaragua, El Salvador, Guatemala, or Puerto Rico. The high rates of intermarriage within Spanish-speaking populations is testament to the manner in which a more established Spanish-speaking population could “pull everybody together.” Indeed, as one resident saw it, when members of her family came to the city in the early twentieth century, they came to a “Mexican America.”(14)

By the late 1960s, however, Mexican predominance seemed anachronistic in a Mission District where Salvadoreños and Nicaraguenses combined to form the majority. Prior to the MCO, “it was a fact that Mexican Americans tended to head most of the funded organizations of the Mission.”(15) Accordingly, to remain true to its vision, and to strengthen its coalition by addressing potential weaknesses, the MCO would have to create space in its structure for constituencies whose voice might not be best served by an already recognized organ of the community. The solution came via the MCO Steering Committee—composed of the President, seven Executive Vice Presidents, and the various committee chairs—which met weekly as it took responsibility for implementing the action plan of the Convention. Toward the goals of inclusivity and accountability, the delegates created a Vice Presidential position for each racial/ethnic constituency in the Mission, adding an assortment of VPs to the leadership. Always in the service of coalition, the MCO recognized the value of its diversity, reflected in each of the following positions: Mexican, Nicaraguan, Salvadoran, business, national, youth, senior citizens, block clubs, Mexican-American, Central American, South American, Afro-American, Anglo-American, and Filipino-American.

To outsiders, the identified constituency groups might have seemed redundant. From the perspective of an MCO organizer, the community had a tacit understanding of how it worked:

<blockquote>''The understanding was that neither the Nicaraguans nor the Salvadorans would go for the Central American position. Either a Guatemalan or a Honduran would get that. But we couldn’t, we didn’t want to have a Honduran Vice President, or a Guatemalan Vice President because they were small enough in number that the Salvadorans and Nicaraguans said well if you’re going to have a Guatemalan Vice President then we want three…and then…you were going to have a body of sixty or seventy people.''(16)</blockquote>

Most significantly, by recognizing the diversity of the Mission, as ''understood by the residents of the district'', the MCO positioned their endeavor to be more than symbolically collective. A blanket assertion of “Latin American-ness” (or latinidad) would ring hollow in a district where the needs of bilingual Mexican Americans differed between those of Central American immigrants, African-American youth, and Filipino families. Though the MCO certainly embodied a kind of latinidad, it did not rely on a limiting definition of who belonged. Unlike a traditional barrio identity, rooted in formal and informal segregation, the MCO’s latinidad relied on the integration of multiple voices, needs, and identities, coalescing in a collective expression of common cause. At their height, a VP position existed to be filled by Puerto Ricans, Pacific Islanders, Cubans, Europeans, Americans, American Indians, Irish Americans, Italian Americans, Colombians, and labor. Even clergy had their own Vice President.

[[Image:Plaid-jacketed-guy-w-goatee-addressing-MCO-and-dignitaries-in-schoolyard.jpg]]

'''MCO gathering in schoolyard.'''

''Photo: [http://eltecolote.org/content/ El Tecolote] archives''

Once a representative structure was solidified, the MCO refocused their energies toward that common cause. Indeed, without tangible results, its representative structure would be meaningless. The MCO committees took on the work, functioning like issue-specific, grassroots campaigns. The committees reflected the collective concerns of the MCO, focused on issues like housing, the police, youth, employment, health, and community maintenance. Comprised, as it was, by an assortment of active and effective community organizations—many of which had experience with these issues—an initial wave of success for the MCO was not surprising. Of course, each concrete victory also fostered increased community support, making MCO membership a source of community pride.

Early MCO campaigns sought to create new playgrounds, ban pawn shops on Mission, and convert an adult theater in the neighborhood into a family theater. In each instance, they sought both cosmetic and systemic change, finding creative ways to make their district more responsive to the needs of its family residents. For example, earlier redevelopment in South of Market area pushed some businesses southward to the Mission. One of those businesses was an adult theater whose presence in the neighborhood would have been unheard of in an earlier generation. After unsuccessful negotiations with the owner, the MCO targeted theater patrons, picketing the theater entrance. They handed out fliers declaring their intention to notify the patrons’ neighborhoods of their patronage. To add a serious tone to their tactic, members followed theatergoers and took down their license numbers. They even had a nun take photos as customers entered, though her camera had no film.

The Housing Committee focused on absentee landlordism and the local stock of deteriorating housing. Involving respected members of the District—like Father Jim Casey, Elba Tuttle, and Luisa Ezquerro—as well as radical groups like the Progressive Labor Party, the Housing Committee sought meaningful mechanisms for tenants to secure and protect their own rights. The committee began organizing residents to negotiate with landlords, peacefully and respectfully informing property owners of the problems tenants faced as well as suggesting solutions. Meeting every Saturday morning, the committee invited landlords by mimicking the process by which a tenant might be evicted—issuing a first, second, and, if needed, third notice—with each succeeding notice communicating a harsher tone:

<blockquote>''So you’d get your first notice…very polite, “We would like to meet with you, please call us.” If we don’t hear from you within a week, second notice, “Please call us within three days.” If you don’t call us within three days, third notice, “If we don’t hear from you within forty-eight hours, we will take further appropriate action.” It didn’t say what the further appropriate action was.''(17)</blockquote>

When a landlord appeared, the committee tried to negotiate a solution. If the landlord ignored them, or failed to appear at an agreed time, the MCO traveled to the landlord’s home or business and picketed. Seeing the utility of social coercion, they distributed fliers in these neighborhoods informing locals that an abusive, absentee landlord lived among them. The combined tactics produced results; in their second year, the MCO served as the official dispute agent for 23 district buildings, each with their own grievance procedures and maintenance agreements. Sometimes they even helped landlords deal with irresponsible tenants.

The Employment Committee was widely regarded as the MCO’s most successful, in particular when measured by the membership growth they incited. In their second year, they developed a youth employment campaign. They secured a meeting with Wonder Bread and Hostess Bakery, intending to secure summer jobs. When the meeting was cancelled, a dozen members of the committee staged a sit-in at the office of the manager they had been scheduled to meet, forcing a new meeting. When negotiations were completed the MCO secured about a dozen positions—each for a third of the summer—and the power to place local youth in the positions. But who would get the jobs? Internal committee deliberations stalled until a young woman, silent up to that point, asked, “Why don’t we give the jobs to the people who worked to get them?” The result was the MCO Point System, where members earned points through their support of the MCO. Points could be earned by attending meetings, participating in actions, or other forms of support. Then, as jobs came in, they were awarded to the people with the most points, who could take it or pass it along. Within weeks, youth participation rose to more than one hundred. By fall, with full-time jobs the goal, regular weekly participation grew ballooned to 300.

Success propelled growth in membership, adding to the perceived legitimacy of MCO within the City and framing a stronger position for negotiating a Model Cities agreement. Knowing whoever controlled the Model Cities Neighborhood Corporation, controlled the future of the Mission, Martinez sought to convince City Hall that the MCO was the only representative body who could speak for the diverse community. This would compel their involvement, since the legislation mandated “maximum feasible participation” with the goal of assuring “broad-based community support.” After six months of negotiations with the mayor, the parties reached an agreement in May 1969 giving functional control of the Corporation to the MCO on its own terms. While the MCO sacrificed their demand for veto power, the compromise required the mayor to appoint 14 of the 21 board members from a list provided by the MCO. Additionally, the MCO could create a committee to review proposals for funds, evaluate the work of the corporation, and recall board members they originally nominated.(18)

The agreement now required the support of the Board of Supervisors. There, the MCO faced opponents seeking to portray them as a non-representative body. The first step was the Board’s Planning and Development Committee, which met on September 16—Mexican Independence Day. The MCO mobilized more than five hundred community members to attend, using the public testimony session to present 75, two-minute speeches in support of the agreement with City Hall. The local press described the MCO and their “orderly, disciplined show of strength” in contrast to the unorganized opposition of no more than 150, people who called the agreement an “unholy alliance” and accused one Supervisor of being a “political prostitute.”(19) The most organized opposition group called themselves the San Francisco Fairness League, led by Mary Hall. To express their united front, they presented the committee with a petition signed by more than 100 locals, most self-identified as homeowners. The MCO did the same, but with a stack of more than 2,500 signatures of propertied and non-propertied alike.(20) The Planning and Development Committee voted to approve the agreement, forwarding the issue to the full Board.

Maintaining their visible community support through multiple mass actions in the fall, the MCO worked toward assuring formal approval at the full Board of Supervisors meeting on December 1, 1969. At that meeting, the Board had to vote on both the proposed bylaws for the Model Cities Corporation as well as a request for federal funds to “plan and develop a comprehensive City Demonstration Program in the Mission area.” Citing “doubts as to whether or not the Mission Coalition represents the people of the Mission District,” some supervisors sided with the opposition. The majority sided with the MCO, with one supervisor calling it “a significant step forward for putting the decision-making power in the hands of the people of the neighborhoods.” The twin resolutions passed by a vote of 7-to-4.(21)

The Model Cities struggle continued when the Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) vetoed the approved bylaws as giving too much power to the MCO. Beyond calling the agreement a “conspiracy between Mayor Alioto, the local Offices of Economic Opportunity and labor,” the San Francisco Fairness League missed their opportunity to exploit the federal decision.(22) Mayor Alioto himself sought to undermine the MCO’s position, assigning a staff member to encourage some of his local allies to pull out of the MCO, but City Hall’s political networks were no match for the MCO’s service record. At St. Peter’s Catholic Church, Father Jim Casey refused to cooperate, expressing his support for the MCO’s housing goals. Enjoying the improved commercial climate as a result of the MCO’s efforts to close pawnshops and the Crown Theater, the Mission Merchants’ Association also refused.

As the MCO and Alioto negotiated a new deal in the spring of 1970, the Coalition sought to fortify their representational status. Martinez invited the mayor to take a walking tour of the district to view their efforts firsthand. Suggestive of their ability to work within the parameters of traditional politics, the MCO also invited the Board of Supervisors, State Assemblymen, and a representative from Governor Reagan’s office. When Alioto cancelled, the MCO conducted the tour for the other dignitaries, to favorable press coverage. The mayor’s absence stood in contrast to the attendance of key Democratic and Republican leaders, including an aide from the head of the State’s Model Cities Liaison Group, who declared, “The governor has heard of radical elements in the coalition, but the people you see aren’t that at all.”(23) Soon thereafter, Alioto reached an agreement with the MCO, which the Supervisors ratified, 6-to-5.

The second MCO convention came in the midst of their Model Cities campaign. The celebratory mood reflected their continuing success, leading Martinez to reflect on the passage of only one year. “I can remember when I first chaired MCO meetings that all the faces were familiar,” he wrote in a memo, “This has changed a lot.” Among the changes was a growing consensus on the political divisions of the previous convention. As Martinez noted, the PL Party and other radicals pulled out as “the valid issues that they had monopolized in the past are now being worked on by MCO without the Mao Tse-tung rhetoric.”(24)

[[Image:MCO-5th-annual-convention.jpg|720px]]

'''MCO annual convention, 1972.'''

''Photo: [http://eltecolote.org/content/ El Tecolote] archives''

In the ensuing years, the MCO struggled under the bureaucratic weight of its new responsibilities regarding the federal funds of Model Cities. Internal political disputes—reflected in Martinez’ successful attempt to amending bylaws allowing for a third term as president—incited further withdrawals from the Coalition. By 1973, the MCO maintained control over the Corporation but engaged in fewer actions as a coalition, focusing attention on the distribution of federal funds. As one activist put it, “the MCO [lost] opportunities to develop a broad-based CDC [Community Development Corporation] because of community politics including a fight for power which did not exist, and the co-optation of activists by City Hall by putting them on the Model Cities payroll.”25 Often derided as “poverty pimps,” playing the role of bureaucratic agent held less appeal than community organizer.

[[Image:Willie-Brown-w-MCO-activists-in-Mission.jpg]]

'''Assemblyman Willie Brown meets with MCO activists in Mission, 1972.'''

''Photo: [http://eltecolote.org/content/ El Tecolote] archives''

But the MCO was hardly a failure. At its height, it successfully involved more than twelve thousand Mission District residents in the bettering of their own community and the planning of the district’s future. Transforming a fractious community divided by class, generational, and ethnic conflicts, the MCO made major inroads in creating an environment where all its members could begin to understand their common interests as well as realize the power of their common efforts. For the Latin American, Spanish-speaking majority of the Inner Mission, the MCO orchestrated their emergence as a visible constituency, the group most associated with the post-war Mission. Buttressed by their demographic predominance in the district, their recognition as a collective entity emerged simultaneously with their organizational work nurturing this common identity. This collective identity coalesced within their movement, balanced on the vision of a common past while respectful of its location in a crucible of diversity. This is notable, for in an era when Mexican Americans throughout the Southwest came together in multiple forms of political action, usually under a Mexican-American based form of cultural nationalism known as ''chicanismo'', the MCO exemplified a population predominantly of Latin American descent uniting under the umbrella of a multiracial and multiethnic coalition. Such efforts relied upon their ability to express shared identities based upon class, race, generation, and national origin, but they also required the recognition of difference. In the case of the MCO, this found organized expression in a hybrid form ''latinidad'', most often under the term Raza, a collective identity encompassing difference while suggesting similitude.

While it suffered as a bureaucracy, the MCO achieved lasting victories as a coalition movement. The political culture of self-determination and collaboration remain in the district today, as does the dignity that comes with a meaningful, grassroots movement. After all, as the MCO lead organizer described it, their greatest success was the dignity gained:

<blockquote>''When we came out of the phone company meeting—we got an agreement for, I think on an annual basis it was in the hundreds of jobs—and the guy who was the chairman of that negotiating committee was Segundo Lopez…So we’re walking out of the front door, I turn and say “Segundo wasn’t that fantastic?” And I’m talking about the jobs. He looks at me and says “Yeah, Mike, you know that vice president called me Mister Lopez.”''(26)</blockquote>

Segundo Lopez was not alone in his newfound sense of pride. In countless other situations, thousands of residents encountered the same transformations within themselves. As they looked toward their future within the City, with increased expectations of the role they could play in shaping of their destinies, succeeding generations of Latino residents of San Francisco would also benefit from the work of the MCO.

''by Tomas Sandoval, from his essay "All Those Who Care About the Mission, Stand Up With Me!," in the anthology "Ten Years That Shook the City: San Francisco 1968-78" (City Lights Foundation: 2011), edited by Chris Carlsson.''

'''Notes'''

Thanks to Mike Miller for giving this essay a close read and making many helpful corrections and suggestions. For a much longer and more in-depth insider’s view of the MCO history, check out his book ''A Community Organizer’s Tale'' (Heyday Books, Berkeley, CA: 2009).

1. Ben Martinez, “The State of the Community” (address, Second Annual Convention of the MCO, October 18, 1969). 
2. Manuel Castells, ''The City and the Grassroots: A Cross-Cultural Theory of Urban Social Movements'' (University of California Press, 1983), 106. 
3. William V. Flores and Rina Benmayor, eds., ''Latino Cultural Citizenship: Claiming Identity, Space, and Rights'' (Beacon Press, 1997), 13. 
4. Mike Miller, “An Organizer’s Tale” (unpublished, 1974), 11. 
5. David Braaten, “A Place of Many Voices.” May 1, 1962; “Signs of a Renaissance.” May 4, 1962; and “Slow Decay—and the Problem of Indifference.” May 5, 1962. All ''San Francisco Chronicle''. 
6. Fr. James Hagan, interview by Jeffery Burns, July 5, 1989, Archives of the Archdiocese of San Francisco. 
7. San Francisco Department of Planning, San Francisco Redevelopment Agency, ''A Survey and Planning Application for the Mission Street Survey Area'' (May 1966), File 148-66-3, Archives of the San Francisco Board of Supervisors, San Bruno, CA. 
8. San Francisco Board of Supervisors, ''Journal of Proceedings'' (December 19, 1966), 61:53, 951. 
9. Thomas F. Jackson, “The State, the Movement, and the Urban Poor: The War on Poverty and Political Mobilization in the 1960s,” in The “Underclass” Debate: Views From History, ed. Michael B. Katz (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1993), 412. 
10. Miller, “Organizer’s Tale,” 25. 
11. “Mission Coalition’s Fighting Mad Start,” ''San Francisco Chronicle'', October 5, 1968. 
12. “Cesar Chavez habla: his speech to the Coalition Convention,” ''La Nueva Mission'' 2, no.10 (November 1968): 7. 
13. “Mission Group’s Tough Demands,” ''San Francisco Chronicle'', November 4, 1968. 
14. Helen Lara Cea, interview with author, October 4, 2001. 
15. Miller, “Organizer’s Tale,” 37. 
16. Mike Miller, interview with author, October 4, 2000. 
17. Ibid. 
18. Scott Blakey, “Mission Plan Clears One Hurdle,” ''San Francisco Chronicle'', May 10, 1969. 
19. Russ Cone, “Stormy Hearing on Mission Model Cities,” ''San Francisco Examiner'', September 17, 1969. 
20. Petitions of the San Francisco Fairness League and the Mission Coalition Organization, File 401-69-1, Archives of the San Francisco Board of Supervisors, San Bruno, CA. 
21. San Francisco Board of Supervisors, Res. 838-69 and Res. 377-68, ''Journal of Proceedings'', (December 1, 1969), 64:48, 974. 
22. “Opposition to Mission Coalition,” ''San Francisco Chronicle'', November 27, 1969. 
23. Joel Tlumak, “MCO Impresses Top Reagan Aide,” ''San Francisco Examiner'', July 19, 1970. 
24. Memo from Ben Martinez to Lou White, November 24, 1969, located in MMA. 
25. Leandro P. Soto, “Community Economic Development: More Than Hope for the Poor” (San Francisco, 1979), 8-9. 
26. Miller, interview. 

[[Image:Ten Years small 87286100958430M.gif]] Find the book at [http://www.citylights.com/book/?GCOI=87286100958430 City Lights]!

[[category:Dissent]] [[category:Mission]] [[category:1970s]] [[category:Latino]] [[category:Ten Years That Shook the City]] [[category:2000s]] [[category:Redevelopment]]
[[category:Mexican]] [[category:Nicaraguan]] [[category:Salvadoran]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

Howl on Trial: The Battle for Free Expression

2014-08-06T23:20:01Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' Primary Source '''

''by Lawrence Ferlinghetti''

[[Image:Citylights-1956.jpg]]

'''City Lights Books, 1956.'''

''Photo: City Lights archive''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]]

The "Howl" that was heard around the world wasn't seized in San Francisco in 1956 just because it was judged obscene by cops, but because it attacked the bare roots of our dominant culture, the very Moloch heart of our consumer society. At the end of World War II, I came home feeling disconnected from American life, like multitudes of Americans uprooted by military service. And we didn't stay home long. With new larger perspectives of the world, many of us soon took off for parts unknown. And the "white arms of roads" beckoned westward. I didn't know the actual demographics of it, but I had the sense that the continent had tilted up, with the whole population sliding to the west. It was a time of born-again optimism, but there were also new elements in the smelting pot of postwar America. There was a sense of great restlessness, a sense of wanting more of life than that offered by local chambers of commerce or suburban American Legions, a vision of some new wide open, more creative society than had been possible in pre-war America. And -- as an idolizer of James Joyce's Stephen Dedalus -- I even envisioned myself articulating "the uncreated conscience of my race."

It took until the mid-1950s for this postwar ferment and the visions of new generations to coalesce in a new cultural synthesis. And it happened in San Francisco, then still the last frontier in so many ways, with its "island mentality" that could be defined as a pioneer attitude of being "out there" on your own, without reliance on government. After all, San Francisco had been founded, not by bourgeoisie, but by prospectors, sailors, railroad workers, gold diggers, ladies of good fortune, roustabouts and carney hustlers. When I arrived overland by train in January 1951, it didn't take me long to discover that in Italian, bohemian North Beach, I had fallen into a burning bed of anarchism, pacifism and a wide open, nonacademic poetry scene, provincial but liberating. There were two or three anarchist poetry magazines spasmodically published, but the central literary, political force in all this was the poet and polymath, [[Kenneth Rexroth and Barcelona by the Bay|Kenneth Rexroth]], who was active in the Anarchist Circle, waxed wroth regularly on KPFA-FM, and held Friday night soirées in his flat filled with apple-box bookshelves loaded with books he reviewed on every subject from anarchism to xenophobia.

The Beat poets, joining this San Francisco scene in the 1950s, furthered the postwar cultural synthesis, and "Howl" became the catalyst in a paradigm shift in American poetry and consciousness. The Beats were advance word slingers prefiguring the counterculture of the 1960s, forecasting its main obsessions and ecstasies of liberation, essentially a "youth revolt" against all that our postwar society was doing to us (even as Henry Miller in the 1940s had sensed that "another breed of men has taken over" in an air-conditioned nightmare.) When the Beats -- namely Ginsberg, Gregorio Nunzio Corso, Jack Kerouac, Neal Cassady, Peter Orlovsky -- first appeared in San Francisco, they hardly looked like world shakers. When Ginsberg first walked into City Lights and handed me the manuscript of "Howl," I saw him as another of those far-out poets and wandering intellectuals who had started hanging out in our 3-year-old bookstore, which ''The Chronicle'' had already started calling the intellectual center of the city. Bespectacled, intense, streetwise, Ginsberg showed me "Howl" with some hesitation, as if wondering whether I would know what to do with it. Later that month, when I heard him read it at the Six Gallery, I knew the world had been waiting for this poem, for this apocalyptic message to be articulated. It was in the air, waiting to be captured in speech. The repressive, conformist, racist, homophobic world of the 1950s cried out for it.

That night I went home and sent Ginsberg a Western Union telegram (imitating what I thought Emerson had written Whitman upon first reading "Leaves of Grass"): "I greet you at the beginning of a great career," and adding, "When do we get the manuscript?" (Despite Allen's saving every scrap of writing, this telegram is not to be found in his archive.) When [[Publishers as Enemies of the State: City Lights Books|City Lights]] published "Howl and Other Poems" in 1956, the holy unholy voice of the title poem reverberated around the world among poets and intellectuals, in countries free and enslaved, from New York to Amsterdam to Paris to Prague to Belgrade to Calcutta and Kyoto.

Ginsberg's original title was "Howl for Carl Solomon." Editing the poem, I persuaded him to call it simply "Howl," making "for Carl Solomon" a dedication, and thus implying a more universal significance. Putting the collection together, I talked him into including "In the Baggage Room at Greyhound." And still later, when I asked for more, he sent me "Footnote to Howl." We had already published two books by Rexroth and poetic pacifist [[KENNETH PATCHEN and his Picture-Poems|Kenneth Patchen]], and they'd been printed in England by John Sankey. But the four-letter words (not including "love") in "Howl" would cause censorship to raise its lascivious head. British law held the printer liable for prosecution, and he elided certain words, with Allen's and my reluctant consent. (Later, after the trial, these so-shocking words were restored.) Before sending the manuscript to the press, I showed it to the American Civil Liberties Union in San Francisco, because I suspected we would be busted, not only for four-letter words but also for its frank sexual, especially homosexual, content. And the ACLU promised to defend us. When we were indeed arrested, our little one-room bookstore would have been wiped out without the ACLU.

As for myself, I thought, well, I could use some time in the clink to do some heavy reading. But for [[Shigeyoshi Murao|Shigeyoshi Murao]], who actually sold the book to the police officers, it was a heavier story. A Nisei whose family had been interned with thousands of other Japanese Americans during the war, he led me to understand that to be arrested for anything, even if innocent, was in the Japanese community of that time, a family disgrace. To me, he was the real hero of this tale of sound and fury, signifying everything.

[[Image:litersf1$the-howl-trial.jpg]]

'''The Howl trial, 1957, Lawrence Ferlinghetti and [[Shigeyoshi Murao|Shigeyoshi Murao]] were defendants.'''

''photo: City Lights Archive''

In the [[The Howl Obscenity Trial|trial]] itself we were defended ''pro bono'' by the famous criminal lawyer Jake Ehrlich, and Lawrence Speiser and defense counsel Albert Bendich of the ACLU. They were absolutely brilliant -- Ehrlich especially so in his presentation of our case to the court and his devastating cross-examination of the prosecution's witnesses, and Bendich in his expert summation of the decisive Constitutional issues.

Among our witnesses, professor Mark Schorer of UC Berkeley, coolly defended "Howl" as "an indictment of those elements in modern society that, in the author's view, are destructive of the best qualities in human nature and of the best minds. Those elements are, I would say, predominantly materialism, conformity and mechanization leading toward war." (Schorer also said "the picture which the author is trying to give us [is] of modern life as a state of hell," which reminded me of Bertolt's Brecht defining Los Angeles as a modern hell and Pier Paolo Pasolini saying the same of modern Rome.) Allen himself was never arrested, though he wrote many supportive letters from abroad. We never had a written contract for "Howl, not even a handshake," but his letters more than once confirmed our agreement, assuring me also that he would not "go whoring around New York" for big money, and urging me to publish Kerouac, Corso, Bill Burroughs, so we could "altogether crash over America in a great wave of beauty." When Judge Horn announced that we were innocent, a Chronicle reporter shoved a mike in my face, and I just stood there struck dumb, unable to articulate what I sensed might foreshadow a sea change in American culture. (Later I learned, from Allen himself, how to use such opportunities "to subvert the dominant paradigm.") I couldn't realize what was to happen in the revolution of the '60s, but I suspected that this was just Allen's first strike as the conscience of the nation and a provocateur for peace. Fifty years later, Ginsberg's indictment still rings in our ears, and his insurgent voice is needed more than ever, in this time of rampant nationalism and omnivorous corporate monoculture deadening the soul of the world.

Introduction to "Howl on Trial: The Battle for Free Expression," (City Lights, 2006).

Copyright 2006 by Lawrence Ferlinghetti. Reprinted by permission of [http://www.citylightsbooks.com City Lights Books].

[[category:Literary San Francisco]][[category:1950s]][[category:Dissent]][[category:Beats]][[category:North Beach]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

India's Ghadar Party Born in San Francisco

2014-08-06T23:08:09Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' Unfinished History '''

[[Image:westaddi$ghadar-on-wood-st.jpg]]

'''The Ghadar Memorial sits at 5 Wood Street above Geary Blvd. near Masonic.'''

''Photo: Chris Carlsson''

[[Image:Ghadar headquarter.jpg]]

'''The original headquarters of the [http://www.ghadarmemorial.net/ghadarpartyhistory.htm Ghadar Party] are in San Francisco where a new building erected after the demolition of 5 Wood Street preserves the Ghadar legacy.'''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] The [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghadar_Party Ghadar Party] was established in 1913 by Taraknath Das and Har Dayal to agitate for Indian independence from Great Britain. At the outset of World War I many Ghadarites (almost a thousand) went to India to stir up a revolt, but because they were heavily surveillanced and infiltrated by British intelligence they were arrested upon landing. Das and others in the U.S. were arrested and threatened with deportation for their political activities. Defending the Ghadarites in the U.S. from deportation became a civil rights issue for anti-imperialists and the Left in general. The IWW, the SLP, and an assortment of liberals came together to organize the Friends of Freedom for India (FFI) and lobbied for the protection of the right of aliens to engage in political activity in the United States. The FFI even persuaded Samuel Gompers, no friend of Asians, to allow the AFL to champion these rights. Nevertheless in 1914, Congress passed a bill that made aliens who advocated political change in any country liable to deportation. The effects of this legislation are still felt today, with members of the IRA and PLO threatened with deportation from the U.S. for their political activities. The Ghadar Party, its hopes for a popular uprising disappointed, its leadership dispersed and under heavy persecution, and its organization infiltrated, collapsed after Ram Chandra, a leader of the group, was assassinated in 1918.

''--Northern Calif. Coalition on Immigrant Rights''

[http://www.counterpunch.org/prashad12182007.html For much deeper insight: "Encounters with Ghadar"] by Vijay Prashad on Counterpunch.org

[[Architectural Preservation |Prev. Document]] [[Beat Landmarks |Next Document]]

[[category:Western Addition]] [[category:1900s]] [[category:1910s]] [[category:1990s]] [[category:dissent]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

Friday of the Purple Hand

2014-08-06T23:05:30Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' Historical Essay '''

''by Tommi Avicolli Mecca''

[[Image:2.gif|64px|left]] '''Listen to an excerpt from Tommi Avicolli Mecca's essay, "Sometimes You Work With the Democrats, and Sometimes You Riot":'''

<iframe src="https://archive.org/embed/2TenYears--nightOfPurpleHand" width="500" height="30" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen="true" mozallowfullscreen="true" allowfullscreen></iframe>

by [http://www.archive.org/download/2TenYears--nightOfPurpleHand/02TommiAvicolliMecca5thAndMissionMastered2.mp3 mp3].

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|right]]
<hr>
[[Image:Tenyears-tour-02.gif|link=Industrial San Francisco in the 1970s]] 
Previous stop: [[FSLN in the Mission Late 1970s|Nicaraguan Consulate takeover]] 
Next Stop #3: [[Industrial San Francisco in the 1970s| Labor sights and smells]]

<hr>

On Halloween night 1969, members of Gay Liberation Front (GLF) and [[Society for Individual Rights (SIR)|Society for Individual Rights (SIR)]] gathered outside the ''San Francisco Examiner'' building to protest anti-gay articles that had been running in the daily. Like other periodicals around the country, the paper had a policy of printing the names and addresses of men arrested in gay bar raids or even in tearooms, bathrooms where gay men sometimes had sex. When employees on the roof spilled purple printer’s ink down onto the demonstrators, the queer radicals used it to scrawl “Gay Power” and other slogans on the wall. They also left imprints of their hands on the surrounding buildings, thus giving rise to what became known as “Friday of the Purple Hand.”

[[Image:Purple-hand.jpg]]

Larry LittleJohn, who was then SIR president, relates what happened next:

<blockquote>''At that point, the tactical squad arrived—not to get the employees who dumped the ink, but to arrest the demonstrators who were the victims. The police could have surrounded the ''Examiner'' building...but no, they went after the gays...Somebody could have been hurt if that ink had gotten into their eyes, but the police came racing in with their clubs swinging, knocking people to the ground. It was unbelievable.''[http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/LGBT_symbols †] </blockquote>

The media wasn’t the only target. The American Psychiatric Association (APA) classified homosexuality as a mental illness. Homophile groups had been lobbying the APA for years to change that designation. San Francisco GLF disrupted a 1970 gathering of shrinks at a convention center downtown. That same year, GLFers in Los Angeles took over a similar meeting of the APA and conducted a consciousness-raising session with the befuddled doctors. The APA eventually succumbed to the pressure and in 1973 dropped homosexuality from its list of diseases.

''by Tommi Avicolli Mecca, from his essay "Sometimes You Work with the Democrats, and Sometimes You Riot,'' in the anthology "Ten Years That Shook the City: San Francisco 1968-78" (City Lights Foundation: 2011), edited by Chris Carlsson.''

[[Image:Ten Years small 87286100958430M.gif]] Find the book at [http://www.citylights.com/book/?GCOI=87286100958430 City Lights]!

[[category:Gay and Lesbian]][[category:1960s]] [[category:1970s]] [[category:Dissent]] [[category:Ten Years That Shook the City]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

Fighting the War at Home 1983

2014-08-06T22:59:55Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' Historical Essay '''

''by Mark Evanoff''

''This article originally appeared in "It's About Times," the Abalone Alliance newspaper, October-November 1983, titled "Fighting the War at Home" p. 4''

[[Image:LLL-Hell-No-We-Wont-Glow-by-Jeffrey-Dooley.jpg]]

'''Protest at Lawrence Livermore Labs, 1982.'''

''Photo: Jeffrey Dooley''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] While disarmament groups demonstrate at [[The Second Vandenberg Air Force Base Blockade, March 1983|Vandenberg]] and [[Livermore Women's Peace Camp|Livermore]], several organizations are trying to stop manufacturers from building weapons systems. In California's "Silicon Valley," the concentration of high- technology industry south of San Francisco, nearly $4 billion in defense contracts were received in fiscal year 1982 -an increase of 32% from the year before. Hundreds of firms are involved in this military work: per capita, the area is the most defense dependent in the country. Almost everyone is connected to the industry -- even among the people arrested at Livermore.

Focusing on war spending at home means convincing people who work in the electronics industry to examine their own contribution to the war effort. The problem is tricky -- what does one ask of a person whose livelihood and social life depend on the war industry?

Community Against Nuclear Extinction (CANE), an Abalone Alliance group based in Palo Alto, writes leaflets about specific defense companies and distributes them to workers. Organizer Mary Klein explained, "We're not asking people to quit their jobs, but we are trying to persuade them to talk about the issue among themselves and to organize to get their company out of defense spending."

CANE has received several letters and phone calls from workers, thanking them for leafletting. Several said they hadn't realized their company made weapons components. Embarrassed executives issued memos to workers acknowledging the defense contracts, but defending them.

At Westinghouse, management went to the trouble of installing new "No Trespassing" signs along every fence section. That didn't stop Harry Adams, who works on the propulsion system for the Trident submarine at Westinghouse, from joining CANE in demonstrating against the company. According to Adams, the leafletting does motivate workers to talk about defense employment.

On the other hand, Adams doesn't think CANE's organizing style is particularly inviting. "I didn't feel comfortable standing in a circle, holding hands, and looking up into the sky. And if I didn't feel comfortable, just think how the other workers felt." Adams isn't asking CANE to give up its ideals, but to be aware of how it's perceived by those they're trying to reach. He suggests round table discussions between plant workers and disarmament organizers to help the two groups understand each another.

The Mid-Peninsula Conversion Project is attempting a completely different approach. It is working with union leadership and Congress to convert the weapons industry to production of socially useful products. "Conversion is difficult," staff director Joel Yudken explains, "because it challenges the priorities of powerful interests. The weapons builders are the people lobbying Congress to build bigger weapons systems. Conversion forces them to think in different ways about management, investment, product development, technological innovation, and workplace organization."

"We're looking to convert the entire industry, not just one company," Yudken continues. "Pressure for federally supported conversion has to come throughout the industry, from the rank and file up to management."

The International Machinists Association drafted conversion legislation which was introduced to Congress in 1977, but never reached the floor of Congress. Eighty-five percent of the United Auto Workers unions have endorsed a strong conversion resolution, and even McDonnell-Douglas executives want their company to receive more civilian contracts.

But neither the unions nor the military contractors have a program to educate the rank and file about conversion. Many union members oppose the -concept. Ken Banda, president of the Machinists at Lockheed, told former weapons designer Robert Aldridge, "Our members make the highest wages in the Santa Clara Valley. Why should we care about conversion?"

Harry Adams shares the skepticism about conversion. Workers feel the vision isn't practical: Westinghouse converted from consumer and industrial products to war production because there's more money in it. Although Adams is active in the union and opposes defense spending, he never hears about the meetings between union leadership and the Mid- Peninsula Conversion Project. The meetings are good for the leadership, he said, but the information never reaches the shop.

Another defense worker who works on the Trident at Westinghouse also expresses his distrust of the conversion approach. John (not his real name) argues that conversion leaves management intact, that the rank and file are an independent lot who have no reason to trust the unions or management. John prefers to protest war production by working as little as possible and by redoing work so the inspectors don't find the mistakes.

Yudken acknowledges the hostility toward conversion on the shop floor, and believes it shows the need for fundamental education. "Conversion isn't easy. We're trying to change people's patterns of thinking and show them other options are available. Pressure for conversion has to come from the shop level."

Until that happens, workers who want to leave military work usually must act individually, making a painful decision to quit their jobs and to try to start over with another employer. Some of the workers leafletted by CANE hope to organize a support group for Santa Clara defense workers. But no organization has offered a program to help workers in the defense industry who want out.

[[Image:Human-billboards-at-Livermore-Labs-against-Nuclear-Weapons-and-testing.jpg|720px|thumb]]

'''Human billboards protest nuclear weapons and testing in Livermore, California.'''

''Photo: It's About Times''

'''UNEXPECTED DOVES'''

Concern about the implications of military work is spreading even among Silicon Valley's traditionally apolitical technical and management elites. Several groups of professionals, technical workers, and even managers are organizing their own educational programs. High Technology Professionals for Peace, based in Boston, has produced a pamphlet warning about the perils of defense employment – over specialization; invasion of privacy, and isolation.

A West Coast group, Computer Professionals for Social Responsibility (CPSR), publishes articles about the absurdities of computer-related defense programs. CPSR attempted to sponsor' a booth at the National Computer Conference in Anaheim last summer, but was denied permission because it was not "in keeping with the purposes of the conference." Of course, companies demonstrating war computers were judged to be in keeping with purposes of the conference. CPSR members leafleted outside instead.

Creative Initiative of Palo Alto draws many of its members from middle and upper management of companies in Silicon Valley. Focusing its educational efforts on defense company managers and the business community, CI makes presentations and shows films at workplaces and meetings of management groups.

Rather than focusing on conversion, the group is seeking a "World Beyond War" in which society recognizes that war is an obsolete method of resolving conflict. Creative Initiative organizers hope to make nuclear war the focus of the 1984 elections.

CANE, meanwhile, is continuing its organizing effort. Tom Linberger, who is active both in CANE and the Santa Clara County Central Labor Council, believes that most people recognize the military buildup is wrong and is hurting the country. "But workers feel there is nothing they can do about it. We're trying to show them they can do something about it."

<hr>

[[Image:Foundsf-anti-war-icon.gif|link=El Salvador Solidarity 1980s]] [[El Salvador Solidarity 1980s| Continue Anti-War Tour]]

[[category:anti-war]] [[category:anti-nuclear]] [[category:dissent]] [[category:1980s]] [[category:military]] [[category:Power and Money]] [[category:San Francisco outside the city]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

San Francisco State Strike

2014-08-06T22:58:16Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' "I was there..." '''

''by Calvin Welch''

[[Image:SF-State-crowd-with-police-lines-by-Lou-de-la-Torre.jpg|720px]]

'''Crowds scuffle with San Francisco police on San Francisco State College campus, 1968.'''

''Photo: Lou de la Torre''

[[Image:Sfsuingl%24sfsu-riot-cops-enter.jpg]]

'''San Francisco riot police enter campus, 1968.'''

''Photo: Terry Schmitt''

[[Image:SF-State-student-being-arrested-by-police-by-Lou-de-la-Torre.jpg]]

'''Student being arrested, 1968.'''

''Photo: Lou de la Torre''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] One final event that ended the events of the 1960s was the student strike at San Francisco State College ("SFSC"), where there had always been a kind of symbiotic relationship with the Haight Ashbury. I believe the "Haight Ashbury" phenomenon took place in this neighborhood because 1) of the community's connection with SFS, 2) the role of both SFS students and faculty, and 3) the particular role of Ginsberg and Kesey, which is outside the framework of this talk.

I hope I've been able to paint a picture that shows the actual electoral politics in SF was much more conservative than the cultural politics of SF at this time. Nowhere was this more evident than at SFSC. The strike at SFSC has received very little attention--and that's a crime. As far as I'm concerned--I was a student at SFS so I'm kind of biased--it was far more significant than the Free Speech Movement at Berkeley. I guess those guys at Berkeley get better jobs, end up with more money and pay historians and filmmakers to believe it. Those of us who go to State colleges don't have that kind of influence. Maybe we got worse educations, and they're just more articulate. My belief is that they own the media.

[[Image:sfsuingl$hayakawa-at-podium.jpg]]

'''S.I. Hayakawa, elevated from professor to President of the School during the strike, took a hard line and encouraged police action, eventually becoming one of California's senators in the 1970s.'''

The strike at State was exceedingly important. In the first place, it's got symbolic importance, not to mention it launched S.I. Hayakawa, to the embarrassment and chagrin of us all [''Hayakawa subsequently ended up in the Senate of the United States -- ed.'']. Secondly it's significant in terms of what was happening at State during that time. I came to State out of the valley (Stockton) during the period 1962-1967. I come to SF State, and it's like WOW! First I'm one of about 700 freshmen, and State didn't want freshmen. The average age in 1962 was 26 years old. I'm going to my first class and everyone's smoking cigarettes, in school, in class! What?! This is not Stockton! These people are cool!

A very politically active, culturally active, sexual politics was going on there before anywhere else. It was the sexual liberation age, and Jefferson "Fuck" Poland used to fuck in public as a political statement. But there was also a political reality that these days is hard to believe. The Associated Students at SF State, the student government---everyone got involved. This was serious politics.

[[Image:SF-State-The-Fascist-Gun-in-the-West-by-Lou-de-la-Torre.jpg]]

''Photo: Lou de la Torre''

It is not an accident that the [[Black Panthers|Black Panther Party]] was formed in San Francisco. It wasn't formed in Oakland. It was formed here. The push for the Black Panther Party first came from the Black Student Union at SF State, who demanded reparations for slavery, and got a chunk of the ASU money. This is you whiteys paying us back for slavery, and they took a chunk. And they didn't tell anybody where it went.

[[Image:SF-State-latino-and-medic-photo-by-Lou-de-la-Torre.jpg|720px]]

'''Confrontation on campus during strike, 1968.'''

''Photo: Lou de la Torre''

[[Image:Aframer1%24black-sfsu-marchers.jpg]]

'''Black Student Union marchers, San Francisco State strike, 1968.'''

''Photo: Terry Schmitt''

A number of later players in redevelopment politics, like WAPAC (Western Addition Project Action Committee) and the people behind the Patty Hearst food distribution in 1974, were at State at that time. People who later appear in neighborhood politics in Chinatown and the Mission were at State. There was even a student university funded by the ASU in which students hired faculty of their own and paid them directly. It was an extraordinary situation, had more than rhetorical control, real financial control, several hundreds of thousands of dollars every semester, and spent it.

The experimental college was formed in 1964-1965. Leroi Jones was invited to be its first chancellor: he insulted us by telling us when he got there that he was Baraka, he was no longer Leroi Jones, and what the fuck are you guys doing, calling me Leroi Jones? We said, well we didn't know you changed your name. And he demanded his salary up front plus additional funds and then he disappeared. The next thing we read is that he's busted in New Jersey after having supposedly just purchased several thousand dollars of guns to arm an insurrection in some town in New Jersey! OK.

What was happening was, in the Mission, in Chinatown, in the Western Addition, students at State were being placed in the external college classes of the Black Student Union ("BSU"). And they started developing a) an understanding of what was going on at this point, and b) a desire to organize, to become organizers, to become involved in the community struggle. But the strikers at State, nominally protesting the BSU and the ''Golden Gater'' newspaper, went to the ''Gator'' and kicked some people's ass. And the ''Gator'' called the police and the nice liberal chancellor didn't know what to do.

To make a long story short, there was kind of a faculty riot as well, observed by this right wing guy S.I. Hayakawa, a world-famous linguist-cum-chancellor that Reagan appointed. For the next year there were pitched battles, occurring virtually daily --- i.e., it's 12 o'clock, time for the battle at the central quad. The TAC unit, straight from the Housing Authority was brought out to State. For a year several hundred SF police, armed to the teeth, were on patrol at SF State. It was a locked-down campus, for an entire academic year. There were cops everywhere. There were no student organizations. You could not hold a rally. There was no free speech. And there was no longer an Associated Student fund. The money stopped. The BSU was declared an illegal campus organization, and was kicked off campus; many other student organizations were declared illegal, banned, pushed off campus, and enforced with the boots of cops! This was not a symbolic show---this was an occupying force for a year!

It taught a lot of people at lot of lessons about politics and reality. And about the SFPD and [[Mayor Joe Alioto|Joe Alioto]], and about how it worked. That was the end of the '60s. OK.

[[Image:SF-State-photo-police-barrier-by-Lou-de-la-Torre.jpg|720px]]

''Photo: Lou de la Torre''

[[Drugs, Hippies, Protests, & Riots|Prev. Document]] [[On Strike! We're Gonna Shut it Down|Next Document]]

[[category:SFSU]] [[category:OMI/Ingleside]] [[category:1960s]] [[category:African-American]] [[category:Dissent]] [[category:riots]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

Ed Roberts: The Father of Independent Living

2014-08-06T22:56:25Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' Historical Essay '''

''by Angela Anderson''

[[Image:Stacks image 5.png]] 

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]]

Ed Roberts, described as the “father of independent living,” was the disability rights movement’s first major spokesperson. His mother Zona conceived him during her senior year of high school, briefly contemplating abortion. She would later joke that Ed graduated from Burlingame High School twice. Born in 1939, Ed grew into a tall young man and passionate athlete. When Ed was 14, Zona’s four boys fell ill, Ed most severely. While 90% of people affected by the poliomyelitis virus show no symptoms and act as carriers, about 5% will get mild flu symptoms. In 1% of those with polio, the virus leaves the intestinal tract and attacks the motor neurons of the spine. Ed, after being laid up with a headache, sat up in the car on the way to the hospital and walked in. The next day the polio diagnosis was confirmed by spinal tap, and the painful paralysis progressed quickly through Ed’s whole body. The year was 1953 - two years before Salk invented the polio vaccine.

Living in an iron lung, Ed stayed in the hospital for nine months and spent another nine in a polio center. Surrounded by nurses, Ed became depressed, at one point trying to refuse to eat. Zona sent the nurses away; with his decision-making returned to him, Ed’s depression eased. At 16, Ed returned home with an iron lung, which he referred to as his “tank.” The Easter Seals funded his home care (Palames).

[[Image:Slide08-young-Ed-in-hospital-bed.jpg|720px]]

'''Young Ed Roberts in bed at home.'''

A local women’s club, the Soroptomists (O’Hara), provided a telephone with a microphone and speakers for Ed to continue his schooling. Later Zona recognized in Ed the potential to attend school part-time. Despite Ed’s fear of people staring at him, Zona would not be swayed. Upon experiencing the staring while being lifted out of the car at school, Ed realized staring didn’t hurt, and instead decided to think of himself as a star (Palames).

Ed developed his gift for academics, and by the age of 20 he had completed all his academic high school credits. However, the Burlingame High School administration resisted allowing him to graduate, citing physical education and driver’s education requirements. Even after Zona’s suggestion that Ed’s physical therapy go towards his physical education requirements, one administrator was so bold as to visit Ed’s home and tell him to stay another year in high school so he didn’t get a “cheap” diploma; immediately, Zona escorted the administrator out of the house. She then went to a friend on the school board, which exempted him from the credits and arranged for Ed to graduate in 1959. The fight for the diploma was Ed’s first of many, but it taught him that pursuing what he wanted and deserved would always be a fight (O’Hara).

Ed got an associate’s degree from the College of San Mateo, where his focus shifted from sports writing to political science and public policy. Zona would take him to classes and write the papers he dictated. In the time before ventilators, whenever Ed was out of the iron lung, including in class, he practiced “frog breathing,” or swallowing air. One of his instructors, Jean Wirth, became a friend of his family, and encouraged Ed to abandon the notion of attending wheelchair-friendly UCLA in favor of the political science haven of UC Berkeley.

Zona, Ed, Jean and San Mateo Dean of Students Philip Morse made a trip to meet Berkeley’s Dean of Students, Arleigh Williams, who encouraged Ed to attend and gave them a list of housing options. However, as Zona noted, none of the dorms could fit an iron lung, so it was suggested they try the campus hospital, Cowell. Ed made sure that living in a hospital would be like living in a dorm, with his own attendants and orderlies filling in gaps in his care as needed. Ed had his own attendants from when he returned home from the polio center, who would drive him and push his wheelchair.

Initially the California Department of Rehabilitation refused to provide funding to Ed at Berkeley, declaring him “infeasible” for employment. At the time, Rehab practiced what Ed described as “creaming,” serving only clients with acute, curable conditions. The success of rehab counselors rested on the rate at which they closed out cases and how little money they spent. Very few clients fought for their rights after Rehab rejected them; many simply disappeared. However, after Rehab rejected Ed, Jean and Philip from the College of San Mateo went to the media, which pressured Rehab into providing Ed the maximum amount of aid at Berkeley.

Ed moved into Cowell; though scary to be living on his own and hiring his own attendants, Ed’s brother Ron was also attending Berkeley and provided support whenever it was needed. The next year a John Hessler, a second student with disabilities, moved in next door to Ed in Cowell. Early on, Ed worked for Arleigh as an accessibility consultant for the university, weighing in on proposed renovations and helping to move accessibility up the list of priorities at the school.

Early in his schooling, Ed contracted severe pneumonia. He moved back in with his parents, but his condition worsened and it was decided to return him to the hospital. The illness seriously disturbed Ed, who was too afraid that he was going to die to be able to go to sleep. However, he realized he had to relax to allow himself to get better; calling it the most important lesson he learned at Cal, Ed observed, “...the more uptight you are about your own sickness, you create more tension in your body…you can actually kill yourself and your zest for life…” (O’Hara 14).

Upon recovering, Ed was active in campus life. He went to football games, and attended classes in even the most inaccessible buildings. Routinely pulled up stairs in his push chair to classes, Ed had a scare when his chair once failed and he almost tumbled down the stairs. From then on Ed chose classes based on accessibility, and if he needed to traverse stairs he made sure that four people carried him. Ed would engage pretty women to write notes on carbon paper for him, and read for classes using a mirror and a mouthstick. Exams were administered however was settled with the professors. Ed garnered much local media attention, and was featured in Parade magazine.

Over the next few years, several more students with disabilities moved into Cowell, and they all received the maximum support from Rehab. However, several students were rejected, including a man with communication difficulties from cerebral palsy. The services provided to the students admitted to Berkeley served as a standard for students with severe disabilities across the country. Despite Rehab receiving federal grants to fund services, the Cowell students were sent a dictatorial counselor with the intention to micromanage the students’ grades and behavior, looking for any reason to cut their funding. After she wrongly ejected two students from the program, the Cowell students banded together, again approaching the media. They demanded Rehab fire the counselor, who instead was transferred and shortly retired. Ed observed of Rehab, “I think they still are awful in many ways, thinking they know more about what you want and need than you do, which I think is dumb. Nobody knows more” (O’Hara 27).

[[Image:Roberts Berk-stadium.jpg|400px|left|thumb|Ed and friend at UC Berkeley football game]] Later in his academic career, Ed’s stories display greater freedom in Berkeley of the sixties. He tells of experimenting with drugs, such as experiencing Telegraph Avenue while on acid with passersby wishing him a good trip. Cowell students drank, smoked pot and had intimate encounters in their hospital-dorm. Ed tells a story of a night drinking at a bar past Ashby. As the bar restroom wasn’t accessible, Ed went outside to relieve himself and a cop nearby told him he was under arrest. Ed responded, “You get me, I’ve got to have an iron lung. I’ll die in jail. You’ve got to have an iron lung. You’ve arrested me; now what are you going to do with me?” (O’Hara). The embarrassed cop called his sergeant, who chastised the officer as their jail wasn’t accessible and wouldn’t take anyone in a wheelchair, iron lung or not. The officers merely informed the university, and told Ed not to do it again.

Cowell students increasing got power wheelchairs, and Ed was inspired by their heightened freedom. He had tried a power chair years before, using the two fingers that recovered from the initial paralysis, but the technology had not developed to an extent where Ed could pilot them effectively. However, as the technology improved his motivations changed, including falling in love and wanting to be alone with his girlfriend, free of attendants. The Motorette provided this freedom, despite buggy transistors that would cause the chair to buck and rocket at full speed on one side. Ed carried extra transistors, and learned to coach strangers through replacing them. Though his relationship didn’t work out, Ed enjoyed the freedom of a power chair for the rest of his life.

In later years, Ed served as a teaching assistant for introductory political science courses. The independence of the power chair increased the assertiveness of Ed and his fellow Cowell students, who had begun moving into apartments. The group briefly discussed a halfway house program, but recognized it as unnecessary, as all they needed was support, attendants and access (O’Hara).

They referred to themselves as the Rolling Quads (Palames), but their efforts were formally called the Physically Disabled Students program. At the time Ed was becoming a national figure, but planes still did not allow respirators:

<blockquote>“In ‘70 Ed earned unofficial honors as ''High Flying Transcontinental Frog Breathing Champion'' when he flew 3000 air miles from the Bay Area to Washington DC – with no mechanical respiratory support – to advise on the distribution of anti-poverty funds used to create the Physically Disabled Students Program.” (Palames)</blockquote>

The program soon served non-student residents of Berkeley and evolved into the Center for Independent Living (Leon). During the first years of the CIL, Ed was teaching at Nairobi College, but he returned to Berkeley to serve as the CIL’s second executive director (Palames). Under Ed’s leadership, the CIL provided attendant and interpreter referral, accessible housing options, mobility training, help getting and keeping disability benefits, peer counseling, public education and advocacy, and the highly visible organization soon made Berkeley the most accessible city in the country (Leon).

In 1975, Governor Jerry Brown appointed Ed the director of the California Department of Rehabilitation, the same organization that had deemed him unable to work several years prior. Ed used the position to advocate for people with disabilities of all severities, establishing an office of consumer affairs and publishing a clients’ rights handbook. He also engaged in the battle for the enforcement of Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973 - described as the Civil Rights Act for people with disabilities, Section 504

<blockquote>“...proclaimed that no handicapped individual shall, solely by reason of his handicap, be excluded from the participation in, be denied the benefits of, or be subjected to discrimination under any program or activity receiving Federal financial assistance.” (Leon)</blockquote>

By 1977, Section 504 was still unregulated, and people with disabilities began to demonstrate. The Bay Area had a strong and visible movement in which protesters occupied the offices of Carter’s Secretary of Health, Education and Welfare in San Francisco’s Federal building for 28 days (Leon). The government staff, initially condescendingly offering cookies and milk, eventually denied the protesters access to care providers and equipment such as back-up ventilators, cut phone lines, and refused to allow food - the physical survival of the protesters was in question.

[[Image:Mattress Federal officials tried to push out demonstrators who, on April 5, 1977, hunkered down at the U.S. Department of Health, Education and Welfare office in San Francisco.jpg]]

'''Federal officials tried to push out demonstrators who, on April 5, 1977, hunkered down at the U.S. Department of Health, Education and Welfare office in San Francisco. Outgoing phone calls were blocked and hot water was turned off. But local support was widespread. Businesses donated supplies, members of the Black Panther Party cooked food, and the mayor sent in portable showers and mattresses. '''

''Photo: HolLynn D'Lil''

However, the community supported the occupation: food donated by unions and civil rights groups prepared and brought in by Black Panthers, the Butterfly Brigade, an anti-gay violence street patrol, smuggled in walkie-talkies, and even some of the staff smuggled in food and warned the protesters of potential police raids. Protesters communicated by sign language at windows with outside supporters. They wholly rejected the initially proposed “separate but equal” regulation, which would have established segregated schools for children with disabilities. By the end of the occupation, protesters won the exact language they wanted, as well as an additional bill addressing education for children with disabilities. These actions paved the way for the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) of 1990 (Stevens).

[[Image:Lockedin.jpg]]

'''Once demonstrators left the HEW offices, they were not allowed back in. Those outside and inside communicated through the windows. Photographer HolLynn D'Lil wrote a poem about the image:'''

'''Through the Glass'''

''Those who wouldn't go outside 
''Those who couldn't go inside 
''Shattered the walls. 

The regulations’ effects were immediate: medical, nursing and professional schools were required to accept individuals with disabilities, new busses must be accessible, and courthouses must have ramp access. Ed also started independent living centers all over California, and influenced 1978 amendments to the federal Rehabilitation Act that provided funding to independent living centers nationwide (Leon). In 1978, Ed also fell in love with an occupational therapist and married, and they had a son, Lee (Palames).

Upon a regime change in California, Ed left his post at Rehab. He won the MacArthur “genius” grant, and co-founded the World Institute on Disability with Judy Heumann and Joan Leon. The institute served as a research and policy center focusing on the perspectives of individuals with disabilities. They successfully nationalized California’s In-Home Supportive Services Program national by adding the home service option of Medicaid, and fought for the ADA in 1990.

Ed continued his work with the World Institute on Disability until his death of a heart attack in 1995, at the age of 56. The service at UC Berkeley was attended by hundreds of disability and community leaders. Shortly thereafter the community established the Ed Roberts Campus, a universally designed, transit-oriented space at Ashby BART Station in Berkeley (Leon). His chair, complete with a Porsche seat, was donated by friends to the Smithsonian, which inspired the museum to include the history of disability in its collections (''Ed Roberts’s Wheelchair'').

Palames describes Ed’s voice as “reedy, pitched in high mid-range, his words measured in a cadence punctuated by the whoosh of a portable respirator slung under his chair,” that he used later in his life. Ed left us with the “Declaration of Interdependence,” observing that reciprocity, responsibility, and relationships create and sustain community (Palames). While he described himself professionally as a diplomat, who understands politics but practices them as he gets older (O’Hara), in keeping with his character, Ed’s best description of himself remains, “The vegetables of the world are uniting and we’re not going away!...I decided to be an artichoke, prickly on the outside but with a big heart!” (Palames).

[[Image:Slide0009-1.jpg]]

'''Ed Roberts'''

'''References'''

Ed Roberts's wheelchair, about 1978. (2013). Retrieved November 15, 2013, from http://www.smithsonianlegacies.si.edu/objectdescription.cfm?ID=127

Leon, J. Ed Roberts, his life and his legacy. Retrieved November 16, 2013, from http://wid.org/about-wid/booklet%20with%20speech.pdf

O’Hara, Susan P. (1994). Oral history interview with Edward. V. Roberts. Retrieved November 15, 2013, from http://www.sos.ca.gov/archives/oral-history/pdf/roberts.pdf

Palames, C. (2011). Ed Roberts: Godfather of independent living. Retrieved November 15, 2013, from http://atotw.org/edroberts.html

Stevens, M. (2012). We want rights, not charity. Retrieved November 17, 2013, from http://socialistworker.org/2012/03/26/we-want-rights-not-charity

[[category:Famous characters]] [[category:Dissent]] [[category:1970s]] [[category:1980s]] [[category:1990s]] [[category:Civic Center]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

The House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) Hearing and Riot of 1960

2014-08-06T22:54:10Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' "I was there..." '''

''Intro by Chris Carlsson''

[[Image:tendrnob$huac-hosing.jpg]]

'''Students were washed down the stairs of the City Hall Rotunda when the police directed fire hoses at them.'''

[[Image:Huac may 13 1960 cops w protestors on rotunda steps AAF-0736.jpg]]

'''May 13, 1960, City Hall Rotunda.'''

''Photo: San Francisco History Center, SF Public Library''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] '''May 13, 1960: ''' ''Civic Center, City Hall: House Un-American Activities Committee Hearing Riot: Students and other protesters in City Hall in SF decry the presence of the doddering, but still pernicious House Un-American Activities Committee. The Committee only deigns to hear from super-patriotic groups and individuals. After two days of hearings in which protesters were denied entrance, the police finally attacked and swept them out of City Hall's rotunda with fire hoses, with 64 arrested, and 12 people hospitalized (eight are police, mostly from exhaustion). Charges dropped against all but one demonstrator, he is acquitted in jury trial. ''Operation Abolition'', a propaganda film using footage of the City Hall riot, is sold in hundreds of copies, claiming it was instigated by communists. [[Mayor George Christopher|Mayor George Christopher]] endorses this idea and says he himself saw "known communists" leading the demonstrations, although he was in the peninsula suburb of Burlingame when the police attacked in the rotunda.''

''--Chris Carlsson''

{{#ev:archive|ssfHUAC4|320}}

''Video: American Civil Liberties Union''

[http://www.archive.org/details/Operatio1961 full length version part 1, 21 minutes]

[http://www.archive.org/details/Operatio1961_2 full length version part 2, 22 minutes]

'''HUAC 1960 Eyewitnesses'''

'''TERRENCE HALLINAN''': When Eisenhower was elected president, and with a Republican majority in both houses of Congress, they actually began to pass laws outlawing being a progressive. They had the attorney general compile a list after hearing by the Senate Internal Security Committee that McCarthy was one of the most famous spokespeople of, but there were numerous others before him, and they would come into a town like Chicago or San Francisco or Seattle and they would issue subpoenas to all the progressives in the town, especially the trade union leadership people, many of whom were communists, or had been communists, or had friends who were communists. They would bring them up in front of these committees and they would ask them if they were communist, and they would ask them leading questions. The only defense out there was, was to take the Fifth Amendment, and the consequence at that time of taking the Fifth was that you would usually lose your job, if you were in government service you would lose your job for sure. You would also be affected in your home. Your name would be plastered all over the papers, your kids would be mistreated in school, and it was hard times. So a lot of people would refuse to take the Fifth, and they would take the First. What would happen then, is they would ask them, “OK are you a communist?” They'd say “I refuse to answer under the 1st Amendment.” They'd say “Who are all your friends who are communists?” and they'd say “I refuse to answer.” If you ever said “I'm a communist,” the next question was “OK, who else is communist? Who are your enemies? Who are your neighbors? Who are your friends?” So it was a no-win situation. If you took the 1st Amendment like the Hollywood [Ten] people did, then you got held in contempt of court and you went to prison for various terms. Then they passed another act, the Smith Act, making it a crime to be a communist and they went around actively putting people in prison for that. It really was a frightening period.

This House Un-American Activities Committee became a kind of circus, where they would go in to a town, you would know they were coming, they would first hit with agents who would serve subpoenas on all the progressive people in town. I remember my father (Vincent Hallinan) hiding out in the mountains on a camping trip for a month to avoid them. Then they would come in and they would ask “Are you a communist?” and if you answered “Yes” then they'd ask who you knew that was a communist, if you said “No,” you'd have to take the 5th Amendment, the consequences of that were known. Finally it wasn't until HUAC came here to San Francisco in 1960 and people just went “NO WAY.” We went down to City Hall and they had these little passes they'd pass out so only their friends would get in, so people started trying to get in without passes. We all gathered outside where people get married and started pounding on the door...

[[Image:Anti-HUAC demonstrator points at police May 1960 AAK-0830.jpg]]

'''Anti-HUAC demonstrator points at police, May 1960.'''

''Photo: San Francisco History Center, SF Library''

'''BECKY JENKINS''': Not only were we yelling but it was reverberating on this marble floor. It was like a surrealist nightmare. And all along the balcony up above were city workers peering down watching, these were all the workers of City Hall, and they couldn't believe their eyes. The cops started to pull out the fire hoses and began using water to push us down the steps. Water came rushing down, and if you know what water and marble is like, it's like glass.... After that they organized a red squad so the police department could handle those things a little better. I want to tell you a couple of other things about the City Hall thing: One was, that it felt like a break of tradition, for me, it was like the beginning of building a new coalition in San Francisco. We had professors and students from SF State, from UC Berkeley, trade unionists, it was a tremendous coalition, telling the House Un-American Activities Committee that we had had enough. I remember after my youth of feeling so isolated that we were communists and now we had popular support. The whole community was coming together and they were protecting us. After we got washed down the stairs, we were all completely traumatized, and I remember going home and my mom and dad ... The next day after we had gotten washed down, I was really scared, but we all went back down to City Hall. The word went out and the longshoremen were there from the ILWU. This is what it meant to have a labor movement full of big guys. Those big guys came with their white caps on and stood in the crowd, and the cops were there on horses, and I remember my father's stories about New York and how the cops in NY were famous for using horses to trample striking workers, they killed workers. Horses were to me a symbol of police repression. But there were the longshoremen. In San Francisco the combination of bread and roses... at some point we stood under the balcony. I can't remember ... maybe the police chief, came out to the crowd, and the crowd began to sing the Chorale of Beethoven's 9th Symphony. This was the class of San Francisco.

'''TERRENCE HALLINAN''': HUAC did become a real watershed here in SF. We said “no way,” and HUAC stopped. That was basically the end of HUAC. They rapidly packed their bags. The next day Civic Center Plaza was packed with people. They called off further hearings. HUAC left town in a few days and I don't think they ever held another public hearing after that. Of course people all over the country took hope in that, and right at the same time, all over the South people began to sit in at lunch counters, Freedom Rides were going on, and things were beginning to happen, and in short order the civil rights movement came sweeping over our whole country, and that was the end of McCarthyism. Is it gone? Certainly McCarthy is gone, and McCarthyism as it was then is gone, but I think we all know that the same forces that brought it about then are lurking in the wings, and given the right opportunity and lack of resistance by people they will come back again and they'll have different lists, and perhaps different enemies in some different form, but they are definitely ready out there to suppress people's civil rights and put labor and minorities against the wall.

'''VIVIAN HALLINAN''': The police chief at the time was Thomas V. Cahill, the man who ordered that the hoses be put on and so forth. I read in today's paper that the Hall of Justice is being called the Thomas V. Cahill Hall of Justice, for this outstanding police captain from the past.

''Becky Jenkins, radical therapist, activist from SF State circa 1960, demonstrated at HUAC in 1960.

''Terrence Hallinan, former member of Board of Supervisors, currently District Attorney.

''Vivian Hallinan, mother to Terrence and long-time San Francisco activist.

''--from a talk given at New College of California, spring 1994''

{{#ev:archive|MANDEL|320}}

'''William Mandel testifies before the House Un-American Activities Committee, May 1960.'''

<hr>

[[Image:Tours-dissent.gif|link=The Freeway Revolt]] [[The Freeway Revolt| Continue Dissent Tour]]

[[San Francisco Police Hold a Scandalous Orgy |Prev. Document]] [[Old City Hall of SF |Next Document]]

[[category:TenderNob]] [[category:Civic Center]] [[category:Dissent]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

Democratic Convention Crackdown 1984

2014-08-06T22:52:00Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' "I was there..." '''

''by Gary Roush, originally published in It's About Times, the Abalone Alliance newspaper, August-September 1984, titled "Convention crackdown greets San Francisco demonstrators"''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] San Francisco has returned. Gone are the arrays of funny hats, along with the holographic security passes dangling like dogtags from the necks of delegates. Gala parties are now relegated only to the gossip column and the society page. Tourists have reclaimed the City's hotels and chic restaurants, and the police are back on their beats. Meanwhile activists and protestors are taking a short breathing spell to lick their convention wounds, and begin analyzing just what did or did not happen during that hot week in July.

[[Image:Police-pressure-Salvador-demonstrators-at-Hilton.jpg]]

'''Police face El Salvador solidarity demonstrators outside of the Hilton where Henry Kissinger was speaking, April 1984.'''

''Photo: It's About Times newspaper''

Two demonstrations in April presaged in many ways a basic conflict in styles of dissent during the convention week. The first of these was the action against and appearance by Henry Kissinger on April 16. Kissinger was in town to address a meeting of the Commonwealth Club at the Hilton Hotel, promoting the findings of his Special Bipartisan Commission on Central America – basically, support for Reagans's belligerent policies. At about this same time the newspapers had finally just begun to print the story of the CIA's involvement in the mining of Nicaraguan ports.

Given Kissinger's lead role in this and previous war crimes, it is perhaps not so surprising that a lunchtime crowd of over 1,500 latinos, punks, secretaries, and assorted leftists came to the Hilton to vent their rage. Even the police were taken aback by the unexpected size and militance of the crowd, and brought out mounted police to try to bully people into remaining on the sidewalks. However, the crowd was not in a mood to be intimidated, particularly after being joined by some rowdier political punks, and soon they overflowed into the street.

The police then regrouped and attacked the crowd with horses, swinging their clubs and nearly starting a riot. Despite police efforts to scatter the crowd, many people re-grouped on the adjoining street in front of the Hilton. However, by then the crowd had cooled down considerably, and its numbers were greatly reduced by the police action and lunchtime attrition. Numerous undercover cops among the demonstrators began to make individual arrests. Soon afterward the police read the riot act (out of the hearing range of most of the crowd), and then, in a preview of coming attractions, blocked off the street and proceeded to indiscriminately arrest the entire 190 people still present.

[[Image:Mounted-police-against-Salvador-demo-w-anti-Kissinger-sign.jpg]]

'''Mounted police bludgeon El Salvador solidarity demonstrators outside of Henry Kissinger appearance at the Hilton Hotel, April 1984.'''

''Photo: It's About Times newspaper''

In contrast to the Kissinger demo was a protest a week later against an appearance by Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger at the St. Francis Hotel. Here the CISPES and LAG organizers had met with the police and had agreed to have a large force of monitors on hand to try to prevent any spontaneous action from happening in the crowd. The monitors did their assignment well, for the most part keeping the crowd of more than 1000 aimlessly circling on a crowded sidewalk, and except for a few small incidents, away from spoiling the rich folks social affair. In return for such cooperation, the Police Department had nothing but lavish praise for how well the demonstrators behaved.

The stage thus set, enter Jerry Falwell and Phyllis Schlafly, who organized a pre-convention convention of the Moral Majority entitled “Family Forum” on Thursday, July 12. A welcoming committee of more than 1,000 activists of various stripes gathered on the sidewalk near the convention to once again pull out some exhausted slogans in hopes of disrupting the affair and perhaps getting a little media coverage.

The police were out in force with their horses and red dirtbikes in the expectation that this was going to be a large and rowdy affair. After two hours of chanting the crowd began to stroll down the two blocks to a planned rally in Union Square, and along the way, not only did they dare to cross against the light, but a small group even staged a short die-in at an intersection! The cops, who were instructed by Mayor Feinstein not to tolerate any nonsense, took these defiant acts as their cue to play out their months of “getting ready.” Mounted police led a charge into the crowd, swinging clubs and trampling several people, including a woman medic who received serious head injuries, and arresting eight people in the ensuing melee. Angry protestors then moved from corner to corner of Union Square, trying to inch out onto the streets, only to be quickly pushed back by the cops. Despite the tension, many protestors picked up on satirical chants such as “the whole world is laughing.”

On the following Sunday there were two large but largely dull demonstrations, both essentially pep rallies for the Democrats. One was a gay/lesbian march and rally estimated at 100,000 people, and was described by one of its organizers as “not a protest, but [rather] a show of support for the Democrats.”

Likewise, a march and rally of some 150,000 union members remained well within the expected constraints of union politics. However, on moment of tension developed when about 75 Teamsters chanting “Scabs go home!” attempted to go into the locked-out Emporium store, but were restrained by a wedge of monitors. (The Emporium store locked-out its union workers in sympathy with Macy's, whose employees went on strike in the days before the convention.)

On Monday, July 16, the main attraction began, as the Democratic Convention opened inside the Moscone Bomb Shelter. Meanwhile, in the officially designated protest “playpen,” a parking lot adjacent to the Convention site, the first and by far largest demonstration occurred, the Vote Peace in 84 rally. Sponsored by a huge coalition of peace and environmental groups, it attracted some 20,000 people and issued three demands: Freeze now and continue reductions in nuclear weapons; No intervention in Central America; Fund human needs, not military ones. However, as most of the speakers were from the Democratic Party (albeit its left wing), one heard little mention of the contradiction of a Democratic-controlled House voting for both the Nuclear Freeze and for funding the MX within a few weeks of each other. Of course there was no mention from the podium of the root causes of war contained within a system whose raison d'etre is the need to make profits.

[[Image:Voting-for-President-is-like-changing-seats-on-the-Titanic.jpg]]

'''A growing sentiment in San Francisco in the lead-up to the 1984 Democratic National Convention.'''

''Photo: It's About Times newspaper''

This nice, loyal opposition was even more apparent in the Visions of (white, middle-class) America at Peace exhibition and direct lobbyist efforts, sponsored by the Peace and Environmental Coalition, whose member groups had a significant cross-over with the Vote Peace in 84 people. These events seemed to confirm a distinct shift to the center for the official peace movement, now acting as a special interest group seeking favor with the powers-that-be. In contrast was an impromptu appearance at the Vote Peace rally by a guerrilla theater group called Shock Troupe, who distributed a leaflet entitled “Beware Geeks Bearing Gifts” that listed wars and interventions led by the Democratic Party. They were accompanied by a 12 foot tall [[Trojan Donkey at 1984 Democratic Convention|Trojan Donkey]] that was fed ballots, money, and a globe and then excreted missiles, tanks and skeletons.

On Tuesday morning about 500 people had gathered across from the protest pen to oppose an anticipated rally by the KKK, about which the police had refused to divulge any information. However, as the Klan was a no-show, the anti-Klan rally was somewhat of a non-event. The crowd nonetheless hoped that it was because of their presence that the Klan had backed out.

Later that afternoon, the Livermore Action Group (LAG) held a rally that billed itself as “the only real protest against the Democrats.” LAG had been given some hassles by the playpen permit police, who, after LAG had already advertised a six o'clock rally, gave them a permit for the four to six shift. (They instead gave the six o'clock slot to the Jesus freaks, the only group to be given two different time permits for the area.) Although the LAG rally itself remained well within the standard boring mode, the politics that were advertised were decidedly more radical than that of the Vote Peace affair – the Democrats at least were criticized for their complicity in the war machine. The rally was disrupted at one point by a sideshow staged across the street by members of the Jewish Defense League who dangled a racist effigy of Jesse Jackson from a rope. As the angered crowd surrounded them, the mounted police moved to the rescue, threatening the crowd with the ever familiar charge of the Light Brigade. After the tension subsided, the rally continued on.

On Thursday morning the usual bustle of downtown shoppers and ofice workers was briefly interrupted by a moving mass theatre piece organized by Casa El Salvador-Farabundo Martí. Some 750 mourners dressed in black staged a funeral, complete with coffins and flowers, for the victims of repression in Central America. The emotional intensity generated semed to overwhelm even the participants, as well as many of the bystanders witnessing the march as it slowly made its way from Union Square to the Powell BART plaza. At various points a slow motion victim-executioner scene was mimed by a line of singing mourners.

The most interesting development of the week was the appearance of the [[1984 War Chest Tours|War Chest Tours]], billed as guided tours of war-related corporations in the Financial District that have significant ties to the Democrats. The tours were organized by people from LAG, Abalone Alliance, and assorted independents, who did not bother to get the official “good Demonstrator” seal of approval from the police ahead of time.

The first of the tours was held on Monday afternoon, with a plan to give a short rap on crimes committed by the specific corporations visited and then doing symbolic civil disobedience, i.e. die-ins. However, as the crowd was gathering on the sidewalk in front of the Diamond Shamrock Corp., the police appeared, surrounded the “tourists,” and arrested 89 for “conspiracy to trespass,” a felony charge.

During the arrests several people were injured. For the most part the press did not question the police account of what happened and blanketly labelled the crowd as “punk rockers.” These conspiracy charges, which carried a stiff $2,500 bail, were an attempt by the police/D.A./Mayor's Office to sweep the more radical elements off the streets in hopes that they would not be able to make bail and have to stay in jail for the duration of the convention. However, Judge Herbert Donaldson agreed with the Public Defender that the conspiracy charge was a bad joke, waived the bail and released people on their own recognizance.

Many reporters, in search of a scoop with a little “action,” accompanied the several hundred people who attended the next tour on Wednesday. The larger numbers and the press presence kept the police watching their manners and obeying the law. However, during the smaller tour Thursday afternoon, the press, assuming that nothing hot was going to happen, sought out other stories. About 200 people left a “Rock Against Reagan” rally at the Moscone demo pit, and visited the Stock Exchange, Standard Oil, Control Data, and had just left the B of A plaza, where a handful of people had knocked on the windows. As they walked up Kearny Street, a line of police on motorcycles surrounded the demonstrators, ordering them to stay where they were. Some people managed to escape through the incompletely formed police lines, but 87 (of the, until then, moving crowd), were arrested on charges of “obstructing sidewalks.”

Three people were injured in these arrests, including one 16 year old who was severely kicked by a police horse. Once again, the police, press, and politicians labelled the arrestees as “a bunch of punk rockers,” in an attempt to marginalize those who dared to show that the emperor-to-be's new wardrobe included military designs.

[[Image:July-1984-stage-diver-at-rock-against-racism-concert-in-front-of-Democratic-Convention.jpg]]

'''Stage diver at "Rock Against Reagan" concert in then-empty lot between Mission and Howard, 3rd and 4th Streets, during Democratic Convention in July 1984.'''

''Photo: Keith Holmes''

Meanwhile, back at the “Rock Against Reagan” rally, as news of the arrests spread, various comedians, speakers, and new wave/punk bands urged the crowd to go to the Hall of Justice after the rally to protest the arrests. (The Hall of Justice also houses the main SF jail and Police Department.) About 1,000 people, escorted by the Trojan Donkey, marched to the hall to show their disgust with the police tactics. The crowd rallied in the street out in front of the building, under the watchful eyes of a division of cops guarding the entrance. Many of the demonstrators sat down in the streets, while others urged people not to. Everyone remained non-confrontational yet very spirited in chanting “Let them go!”

The police charges quickly split up the remaining crowd into small groups, who were completely intimidated by the fear that the person next to them was really a cop. Altogether, 282 people were arrested that night, and many received serious injuries from clubs.

However, a contingent of cops was sent from the side of the building, trapping those who had remained sitting, arresting them and piling them into buses. Those who managed to get away chanted “Dan White was a cop” and “sex party cops” to the ever-growing police presence.

The most insidious police element was the large number of undercover cops who were used at all the demonstrations that week, and who were present in large numbers at this one. Dressing as demonstrators and wearing political buttons (with the added chic touch of aquarium tube communication devices on the backs of their ears!), these wolves would stalk their targets and then nab their prey as people ran to avoid the repeated charges of the mounted police horses and motorcycles. Police continued to chase, harass, and arrest people in tiny groups, blocks away from the Hall of Justice. Police Chief Murphy, proudly bragging to the press, claimed the police action was totally justified as he “had reports that demonstrators were going to rip apart the Hall of Justice and free the prisoners.” Later that night, police also arrested the Trojan Donkey, and he is still languishing in solitary confinement in the Police Property Room.

[[Image:Polbhem1$trojan-donkey.jpg]]

'''The Trojan Donkey in front of the Hall of Justice, July 19, 1984.'''

''Photo: Keith Holmes''

Over 500 people from the week's activities are now facing trial on various charges, some of them felonies. The defendants hope to garner enough public support to demand that all these charges be dropped, and to expose the conspiracy arrests for the legal sham they are.

[[We've Already Been Drafted|Prev. Document]] [[THE DEMOCRATIC CONVENTION COMES TO TOWN|Next Document]]

[[category:1980s]] [[category:dissent]] [[category:anti-war]] [[category:Power and Money]] [[category:Salvadoran]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

ALCATRAZ Proclamation

2014-08-06T22:50:30Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' Primary Source '''

[[Image:nativam$alcatraz-proclamation-photo.jpg|right]]

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|eft]]

'''Alcatraz Proclamation'''

''Photo: Ilka Hartmann''

'''The proclamation of the Indians of All Tribes who [[The Indian Occupation of ALCATRAZ|occupied Alcatraz]] from November 1969 to June 1971:'''

'''To the Great White Father and All His People:'''

''We, the native Americans, re-claim the land known as Alcatraz Island in the name of all American Indians by right of discovery. We wish to be fair and honorable in our dealings with the Caucasian inhabitants of this land, and hereby offer the following treaty: We will purchase said Alcatraz Island for 24 dollars in glass beads and red cloth, a precedent set by the white man's purchase of a similar island about 300 years ago. We know that $24 in trade goods for these sixteen acres is more than was paid when Manhattan Island was sold, but we know that land values have risen over the years. Our offer of $1.24 per acre is greater than the 47 cents per acre the white men are now paying the California Indians for their land. We will give to the inhabitants of this land a portion of that land for their own, to be held in trust by the American Indian Government for as long as the sun shall rise and the rivers go down to the sea -- to be administered by the Bureau of Caucasian Affairs (BCA). We will further guide the inhabitants in the proper way of living. We will offer them our religion, our education, our life-ways, in order to help them achieve our level of civilization and thus raise them and all their white brothers up from their savage and unhappy state. We offer this treaty in good faith and wish to be fair and honorable in our dealings with all white men. ''

We feel that this so-called Alcatraz Island is more than suitable as an Indian Reservation, as determined by the white man's own standards. By this we mean that this place resembles most Indian reservations, in that:

1. It is isolated from modern facilities, and without adequate means of transportation.

2. It has no fresh running water.

3. The sanitation facilities are inadequate.

4. There are no oil or mineral rights.

5. There is no industry and so unemployment is very great.

6. There are no health care facilities.

7. The soil is rocky and non-productive and the land does not support game.

8. There are no educational facilities.

9. The population has always been held as prisoners and kept dependent upon others.

Further, it would be fitting and symbolic that ships from all over the world, entering the Golden Gate, would first see Indian land, and thus be reminded of the true history of this nation. This tiny island would be a symbol of the great lands once ruled by free and noble Indians.

''--from ALCATRAZ! ALCATRAZ!'' ''by Adam Fortunate Eagle, [http://www.heydaybooks.com Heyday Books]: Berkeley, CA Copyright 1992 by the author.

[[The Indian Occupation of ALCATRAZ |Prev. Document]] [[Reflections from Occupied Ohlone Territory |Next Document]]

[[category:Indigenous]] [[category:1960s]] [[category:1970s]] [[category:Dissent]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

1966 Vanguard Sweep

2014-08-06T22:49:18Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' Unfinished History '''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]]

On a summer night in 1966, a group of gay and transgendered youth gathered on the streets of San Francisco’s low-income Tenderloin district.

[[Image:Vanguard-sweepers-top.jpg]]

'''Tenderloin youth protest police sweeps with a tongue-in-cheek "street sweep" protest. 1966.'''

''Photo: GLBT Historical Society''

'''From the Press Release''': ''Tonight a "clean sweep" will be made on Market Street, not by the POLICE, but by the street people who are often the object of police harassment. The drug addicts, pillheads, teenage hustlers, lesbians, and homosexuals who make San Francisco's "Meat Rack" their home, are tired of living in the midst of the filth thrown out onto the sidewalks and into the streets by nearby businessmen. . . This VANGUARD demonstration indicates the willingness of society's outcasts to work openly for an improvement in their own social-economic power. WE HAVE HEARD TOO MUCH ABOUT "WHITE POWER" and "BLACK POWER" SO GET READY TO HEAR ABOUT "STREET POWER."''

The city was then a national destination for GLBT youth, many of them disowned by their families. Too young to find legitimate work, they banded together for safety in a neighborhood known for its low-rent apartments, cheap hamburger stands, and gay bars plagued by police raids. Many succumbed to drug abuse and violent deaths.

<embed src="http://www.glbthistory.org/Vanguard/images vanguard/Vanguard CCH promo.mp3" width="375" height="32"></embed>

''Audio by Joey Plaster''

This particular night was different. Three years before New York City’s Stonewall riots, youth held signs demanding rights. With supportive clergy at their side, they chanted and marched on the street. TV and radio reporters recorded as they spoke out against discrimination. They called themselves Vanguard. They are now considered the first gay liberation organization in the country.

[[Image:Vanguard-sweepers-bottom.jpg]]

'''Vanguard posing after the sweep, June 1966.'''

''Photo: GLBT Historical Society''

From ''Vanguard Magazine,'' Vol. 1, No. 2, Oct. 1966. ''Vanguard'' was founded by Tenderloin youth in 1966 with the help of urban ministers, anti-poverty organizers, and homophile activists.

This material is adapted with permission from the [http://www.glbthistory.org/Vanguard/ GLBT History website].

[[Society for Individual Rights (SIR) | Prev. Document]] [[1960: A Turning Point|Next Document]]

[[category:Gay and Lesbian]] [[category:Tenderloin]] [[category:Dissent]] [[category:1960s]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

White Night Riot: May 21, 1979

2014-08-06T22:47:53Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' "I was there..." '''

''by Chris Carlsson''

[[Image:Rich-law-poor-law-some-fight-back-1979.jpg|720px]]

''Leaflet distributed around the Castro and the Haight-Ashbury in the days directly after the White-Night Riot.''

[[DISH, DON'T SNITCH!: D. Dangerous I. Information S. Seems H. Harmless | DISH, DON'T SNITCH!]]

[[Image:tendrnob$looters-on-white-night.jpg]]

'''As in many riots in the last decades of the 20th century, a joyful looting soon broke out, creating a party atmosphere . . . Xmas in May!'''

''Photo: Higgins''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] It was a warm evening. I was a student at San Francisco State but that afternoon I was heading down to the Strand Theatre on Market Street across from U.N. Plaza to see a couple of movies. I remember one of them was ''Hearts and Minds, ''the documentary about the Vietnam War. I had already seen it, but my girlfriend hadn't and she was an intense movie fan. My flat-mate Peter Plate was joining us. As we rode on the bus a young man, quite agitated, jumped on and blurted out "It's only manslaughter!" We all knew, and quickly confirmed, that it was the Dan White verdict, which had been expected for several days.

Less than 6 months earlier, former cop, resigned supervisor, and conservative psychotic Dan White loaded his pistol, put some extra rounds in his pocket and drove over to City Hall to exact revenge. He felt he had been bitterly betrayed by Mayor Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk when they agreed to appoint a political ally to political enemy White's resigned seat. He entered through the unmonitored side door and proceeded to Moscone's office, shot him in cold blood, and then, reloading his gun, he walked down the hall to Milk's office and blew him away, too. He ran away and surrendered to an old friend in the police department a couple of hours later. Dan White gave his old (and clearly sympathetic) friend a rambling, incoherent confession, occasionally crying, freaking out over the disintegration of his life.

The defense invoked the now-famous Twinkie Defense, that Dan White was losing it because of the pressure in his life, eating too much junk food as one of the symptoms and causes of his temporarily insane behavior. The law-and-order, family-values, Ollie North clone (but clutzier), Dan White was a walking time bomb, gradually exploding under the pressure of failing to succeed on the system's terms. He embodied the violent backlash of straight society against the gay community's success, and the death squad approach of the powers-that-be toward individuals that seriously threaten their prerogatives. Dan White's murders of Moscone and Milk drastically altered the political direction of San Francisco, from a pro-neighborhood, populist regime to the traditional conservative, Chamber of Commerce administration of Dianne Feinstein, but that outcome seemed incidental to the psychotic breakdown suffered by Dan White and the ensuing havoc he wrought. No plausible conspiracy theory has emerged linking White to a plan to remove the progressive leadership of the city. Fifteen years later we can see that is what he did. He can't since he committed suicide in 1986.

As soon as we heard that verdict, we jumped off the bus and began walking quickly up Market toward Castro, expecting a spontaneous demonstration. When we crossed Church Street a wall of people across all of Market came angrily over the hill, heading down to the Civic Center. We quickly fell in to the raging crowd. A few buses had their overhead wires ripped down, but mostly it was a lot of fist shaking and chanting: "No Justice, No Peace!" and so on.

[[Image:Whitenite-castro.jpg]]

'''Spontaneous crowd gathers at Market and Castro after verdict, May 21, 1979.'''

''Photo: Daniel Nicoletta''

[[Image:Whitenite-march.jpg]]

'''Spontaneous march heads toward City Hall, seen here crossing Church on Market.'''

''Photo: Daniel Nicoletta''

A mob of at least 2,000 stormed around City Hall to the Civic Center doors. Police were arriving but staying back. There was no public address system, no organizing group, it was a spontaneous demonstration of rage at the blatant injustice of the verdict. People stood up on the stairs and spoke out their anger, their denunciations. I remember vividly Amber Hollibaugh giving an impassioned speech for a radical resistance by the community. Others spoke (or shouted) their demands for justice. Supervisor Carol Ruth Silver appeared on the balcony 100 ft. above holding high a candle. She was met with jeers and angry calls to come down and get out of City Hall! A number of different people began to attack the bars and windows of City Hall. I was standing at the foot of the stairs, within a scant 15 feet of the doors, even fewer from many of the speakers. After some minutes of angry speaking, a tac squad of police broke through to stand guard in front of the building. They were met with a shower of rocks and bottles and soon they retreated inside and the attack on the windows and bars continued until they were all broken. Meanwhile, many people were beginning to surge in whatever direction police appeared. As squads of cops appeared, people would run forward throwing rocks and waving sticks. I found myself in a group enjoying the wonderful experience of chasing a squad of about 10 police around the corner from our City Hall liberated zone. A bit later I was hurling pieces of concrete curb at a stationary line of police guarding City Hall. Again and again over the next two hours, cops retreated under mob pressure. Sixteen squad cars were captured and torched, hundreds of windows in surrounding governmental and financial buildings were broken. Fires were set in garbage cans along Market Street. It was a riot.

[[Image:White Night riots.jpg]]

'''Burning police cars in front of City Hall, May 21, 1979.'''

''Photo: Daniel Nicoletta''

[[Image:Rioters outside San Francisco City Hall May 21 1979.jpg]]

'''Crowd silhouetted by burning squad cars.'''

''Photo: Daniel Nicoletta''

After a few more hours the police had retaken the streets. A squad of several dozen cops rode over to the Castro and staged a retaliatory riot, attacking the Elephant Walk Bar at 18th and Castro, smashing everything. They even pulled people out of surrounding doorways and bars. I heard of one man getting his leg severely bruised when they burst in on him at his kitchen table.

Twenty-one were arrested that night, mostly around the Civic Center, including my house-mate Peter (two and a half years later, his four-felony case was settled as misdemeanor/probation pleas). The Chief of Police Charles Gain was blamed for being too wimpy and holding back his troops when he should have attacked. He defended himself by pointing out that no one was dead and only a few had minor injuries. We started the May 21st Defense Fund but most of our benefits over the next few months failed to raise any money. We got few donations. There was no community, gay or otherwise, that would stand in support of the people arrested that night, mostly because only a few of them were gay. The riot had progressed, as San Francisco riots do, from the initial angry crowd (in this case, of gays) to a gradual influx of angry young black and brown men who are spoiling for a chance to even the odds with the cops. The amazing sense of community that had existed during the riot evaporated within 24 hours. Many of us were confused by the contrast: the riot's euphoria temporarily intoxicated us with the sensation of true community. The aftermath returned us with a hard thud to a city full of barren crowds of disconnected people.

[[Image:tendrnob$white-night-cop-car.jpg]]

'''A burning police car, White Night Riot, May 21st, 1979'''

''Photo: Higgins''

<iframe src="https://archive.org/embed/ssfWhitent1" width="640" height="480" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen="true" mozallowfullscreen="true" allowfullscreen></iframe>

'''Rioting at City Hall'''

[[White Night Riot: A Policeman's View| A Policeman's View]]

<hr>

[[Image:Tours-dissent.gif|link=Union of Concerned Commies 1979-1980, agit-prop theater and flyers]] [[Union of Concerned Commies 1979-1980, agit-prop theater and flyers| Continue Dissent Tour]]

[[Failed Politician Slaughters Mayor and Supervisor--and the Cops Cheer Him On! |Prev. Document]] [[White Night Riot: A Policeman's View |Next Document]]

[[category:TenderNob]] [[category:Gay and Lesbian]] [[category:1970s]] [[category:Civic Center]] [[category:Castro]] [[category:Haight-Ashbury]] [[category:dissent]] [[category:riots]] [[category:White Night Riot]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

Bay Area Peace Navy

2014-08-06T22:41:45Z

Mfriedman: linked to Bay Area Social Movements category

''' "I was there..." '''

''--Bob Heifetz, 1998, co-founder of the Peace Navy''

[[Image:Peace-navy.jpg]]

''Photo: Bob Heifetz, Peace Navy''

<iframe src="https://archive.org/embed/ssfFLTWK93" width="640" height="480" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen="true" mozallowfullscreen="true" allowfullscreen></iframe>

[[Image:Polbhem1%24peace-navy-against-missouri.jpg]]

'''Peace Navy obstructs USS Missouri during contentious campaign to homeport the Missouri in San Francisco during the 1980s.'''

''Photo: Bob Heifetz, Peace Navy''

<iframe src="https://archive.org/embed/SaulBloomOnNukesTheUssMissouri" width="640" height="480" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen="true" mozallowfullscreen="true" allowfullscreen></iframe>

'''Saul Bloom describes his own history with Greenpeace and opposing the homeporting of the USS Missouri in San Francisco during the 1980s.'''

''Video: Chris Carlsson and David Martinez, from the [http://www.shapingsf.org/ecology_emerges.html Ecology Emerges project].''

[[Image:Addressing-injustice.png|left]] The Bay Area Peace Navy was launched in 1983 by a group from the American Friends Service Committee committed to ending arms shipments from the Bay Area's Port Chicago to Central America. Since then, we have engaged in a rich variety of water-based guerrilla theatre dramatizing our opposition to U.S. Naval intervention abroad and support for ecologically sound, socially just and peaceful uses of the Bay at home. Our events use humor and satire to express our views depicted by the beauty of small and larger boats festooned with banners and sails carrying our message to targeted audiences. We see ourselves as a cross between the theatrics of the Mime troupe and the direct action dramatizations of Greenpeace. We work with peace, ecology, labor and social justice groups.

We have had a fleet of over 100 privately owned boats ranging from kayaks and windsurfers to day sailors and blue water yachts, sailing under the motto, "Join the Peace Navy and Save the World". Our members are as diverse as the boats in our fleet: boilermaker and carpenters, doctors and lawyers, students and pensioners, artists and filmmakers. Our youngest member was 7, our oldest, 85. To be a member of the Peace Navy means that you like at least some of the causes we support and some of the ways in which we express that support. It means that, time permitting, you would be ready to make yourself and any floating platform you can command (with the assistance of others if desired), available for an action. Our only meetings are those few devoted to developing a consensus around a proposed action and organizing to pull it off. Plus a few parties to celebrate our victories.

We have opposed the transport of nuclear armed and powered ships in our densely populated region, supported efforts to reduce the military budget in favor of transferring those funds to desperately needed peacetime uses in such areas as housing, health, education, recreation, and culture. Two of our boats took medical supplies to Nicaragua after a devastating hurricane, symbolizing our opposition to U.S. efforts to overthrow the former Sandinista Government Two of our members were part of a Witness for Peace delegation seeking to promote peace in south of that country. They were captured on the Rio San Juan by contra forces trained and supported by the U.S. Government. Annually, we have organized a counter-flotilla to the U.S. Navy's Fleet Week propaganda extravaganza. We countered efforts by the Navy to limit our presence at that event as part of their so-called "anti-terrorist" concerns. The ACLU took our case: "The United States of America, et al vs. the Bay Area Peace Navy." We won.

We have worked with waterfront unions around labor rights issues, with the Haitian Community to dramatize their struggle for democracy and rights of political asylum, with Greenpeace for a nuclear free seas, with the anti-apartheid movement to halt trade with the former apartheid South African Government, with Native Americans and allies to tell the truth about the genocidal Columbus legacy in the New World, with anti-war veterans and peace groups opposing military intervention in the Third World including Grenada, Nicaragua, Panama and Iraq, with human rights groups opposing reinstatement of the death penalty at San Quentin, with ecology groups seeking to protect the few remaining forests of old growth redwood trees, against the dangers of unnecessary off-shore oil drilling, against dumping of dredge spoils in offshore fishing grounds.

Events we have organized to dramatize these issues over the past fifteen years have included the following:

'''1983:''' blockading munitions ships leaving Port Chicago with their lethal cargoes

'''1984:''' mock invasion of Angel Island, protesting U.S. invasion of Grenada

[[Image:Port-of-SF-mined-72-dpi.jpg|370px|left|thumb|Mock warning of harbor mining in San Francisco Bay, 1984]] '''1984:''' mining the Alameda Naval Air Station to dramatize opposition to CIA mining of Nicaragua's main harbor of Corinto, endangering international shipping and Nicaragua's foreign trade

'''1985:''' captured for one day and a half by Contra forces on the Rio San Juan: Peace Navy representatives join Witness for Peace to create peace zone along Nicaragua's border with Costa Rica

'''1986:''' demonstration vs. off-shore drilling at Pier 39 and later at Fort Mason; support of Longshore Union (ILWU) refusal to unload a ship trading with the then-apartheid regime in South Africa

'''1987:''' ACLU represents the Peace Navy challenging the U.S. Navy's effort to limit Peace Navy boats' access to viewers during Fleet Week, rendering our peace songs inaudible and our banners unreadable. Free Speech wins over bogus security concerns

'''1988:''' The Peace Navy, with San Francisco Mime Troupe theatrical assistance, stages dramatization of a nuclear accident at sea aboard its specially constructed 100 foot submarine moored along Sausalito's waterfront as part of an international Disarm the Seas Campaign; participates in and helps promote the June Mobilization for Peace, Jobs and Justice; challenges the embargo vs. Nicaragua by sending two boats with medical supplies to that country; completes its 20 minute video, "Making Waves, Sailing with the Peace Navy"

'''1989:''' supported Bay Area fishermen in their 100 boat protest against dumping dredge spoils off Alcatraz, threatening the delicate Bay ecology and local fishing industry; undertook our largest counter Fleet Week demonstration with some 70 boats and over 300 people participating

'''1990:''' participated in Earth Day events off Crissy Field; joined "Redwood Summer" in Richardson Bay in front of Pacific Lumber's offices to protest their plans to destroy the last remaining old growth redwood forests; joined the United Bay Area Veterans Against War in the Middle East during Fleet Week with messages of "No Blood for Oil" and "Bring the Troops Home Now"

'''1991:''' worked with Greenpeace to draw attention to the U.S. Navy's nuclear powered and armed aircraft carrier, the USS Abraham Lincoln, "a nuclear accident waiting to happen"; participated in the West Coast Mobilization to Bring the Troops Home Now--No War for Big Oil.

'''1992:''' worked with a coalition supporting the local Haitian Community's efforts to dramatize the plight of Haitian refugees seeking U.S. asylum and the return of President Aristide and democracy to Haiti, transporting a boatload of Haitians from Berkeley to San Francisco, confronting the U.S. Coast Guard, who, on a hot tip to the Immigration and Naturalization Service, sought to prevent our landing; joined the American Indian Movement and the Pledge of Resistance and others at Aquatic Park in an "unwelcome party" to prevent the traditional landing of Columbus and break with the genocidal legacy of 3rd World domination by the West; demonstrated, via the recorded roar of lions aboard a Peace Navy boat off of San Quentin Prison, our outrage at the reinstatement of the death penalty

'''1993-1996:''' The Peace Navy, Greenpeace and others start a campaign to "Convert Fleet Week" to celebrate the end to the Cold War and parallel the conversion of U.S. Naval bases in the Bay Area. During Fleet Week of 1996, we took matters into our own hands, symbolically redistributing large money bags aboard our largest ship from the bloated Department of Defense to desperately needed peacetime uses; following up a previous demonstration against French nuclear testing in the Pacific during Fleet Week of 1995, assisted Greenpeace in finding a large schooner to sail to the Pacific to protest continued French testing of nuclear weapons, joining them in a sendoff celebration near the Ferry Building

'''1997:''' Peace Navy joined United Food and Commercial Workers Union picketing the H & N Fish Co. at Pier 45 to support immigrant workers gaining union representation in their many grievances against the Company's many violations of workers' rights; continued exploration of possible new directions for the Peace Navy, including formation of a Peace Navy Squadron to support the work of the water-borne environmental watchdog organization, BayKeeper.

<iframe src="https://archive.org/embed/FleetWeek" width="640" height="480" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen="true" mozallowfullscreen="true" allowfullscreen></iframe>

''Video: Matthew Chong, 2011''

<hr>

[[Image:Foundsf-anti-war-icon.gif|link=Beyond Playing Dead--Playing To Win]] [[Beyond Playing Dead--Playing To Win| Continue Anti-War Tour]]

[[Symbionese Liberation Army|Prev. Document]] [[S.O.S & Stop Our Ship|Next Document]]

[[category:Dissent]] [[category:1980s]] [[category:1990s]] [[category:Military]] [[category:anti-war]] [[category:Bay Area Social Movements]]

Mission High School Riot 1969

2014-07-31T02:10:35Z

Mfriedman: Addressing Injustice logo removed

''' "I was there..." '''

''From Latino/Black on Black/Latino Ethnic Conflict to United Political Struggle''
Interview of Edgar Ivan Morales by Francisco FloresLanda, conducted Sunday, July 31 2011'''

'''Introduction''': ''The following interview was conducted at San Francisco’s Dolores Park, at the “bell,” a usual meeting spot for people of our generation. Edgar and I were in the epicenter of a “racial riot” actually a rumble between a Latinos and black students. The conflict between his brother, Edy, and a lone black student became generalized; to the point that the whole school was shuttered down. The students in the school were restricted to the classroom; the students outside were locked out of the school. The rumble occurred during one of two lunch periods, after the rumble both ethnicities lined up with their own, the browns and the blacks lined up on the sidewalks of Eighteenth Street, the African Americans on the sidewalk hugging the girl’s gym on the corner at Dolores Street and the Latinos on the opposite side of the street on the park side. The SFPD Tactical Squad was in between it was quite a display of apprehension, confusion and fear. In my politically developing young mind the manifestation of larger issues went over my head—those of education, racism, police control, inequality, immigration, and more.''

''This interview is a small part of larger story that is in still being written. That larger expanded part is what came before and what came after that fateful incident in the fateful year of 1969.''

Notes: 
Parentheses ( ) are author inserted for clarity. 
Brackets [ ] are used for author’s commentary.

Send me comments and any information or leads to persons that could provide information that might add to this story at [mailto:fflores124@hotmail.com fflores124@hotmail.com].

[[Image:Scan0012.jpg|540px|thumb|(left to right) Ivan Vanengs aka El Pelon, Francisco Flores (author), Edgar Morales (interviwee), others unknown|left]]

'''Edgar tell me something about you?'''

My name is Edgar Ivan Morales; I’m originally from Managua Nicaragua. I was brought here in 1963 as an immigrant, along with my other five siblings by a good woman, Manuela Escobar, a single parent raising six kids at a minimum wage. (She) refused to get help or ask for help because of her pride; that was 1963, when Latinos were practically unheard of in San Francisco, (I) arrived here and was put in an elementary school where no one spoke any Spanish everyone spoke English, so I was incommunicado (at) Golden Gate Elementary in the Western Addition. [Then known as the Fillmore, during the time of the War on Poverty Western Addition was used to whitewash the area famous or infamous, depending on one’s point of view, as a seedy area.]

[Note: I would guess that at Edgar’s age it appeared that Latinos were ‘practically unheard of’ because back in the day, the Fillmore was almost totally black, unlike today, when a large number of young white people and other non-blacks have moved in because of Redevelopment, gentrification, and the shift in the worldwide economy, i.e. the disappearance of local blue collar jobs to overseas by outsourcing. I would suppose that this extrapolation would also apply to Golden Gate Elementary. Recently I went to the area and conducting a quick survey, at first, unbelievably, I saw only Anglos after a few seconds some African Americans appeared in my view but, to me, it maintained its white look and feeling. I was almost in shock. I was aware of the demographic shift but it is still hard to believe how a community can be destroyed--some would say improved.]

'''Was there a Spanish bilingual program at Golden Gate Elementary School? '''

There was no one in the whole school that spoke a word of Spanish; it was a very lonely and isolating place to be for me. For me, for someone coming from Central America, where everyone (knows you), where all doors are open, and where everyone knew each other, to a place no one knew how to communicate with me it was pretty bad. [It was evident from Edgar’s tone that the feeling still resonated with him.]

Originally, when I got here, my mother was in the Western Addition, with as many kids as my mother (had) we moved to many, many, houses always looking for affordable housing, my mother’s goal were affordable housing so my mother could support her children.

'''What kind of work did she do?'''

When I arrived here, she was working at Foster’s, it was a cafeteria type of restaurant, she was a bus lady, and she went around picking up the dishes after everybody ate. The only qualification I suppose was to speak English that was one of her lucky points.

'''Spoke English In Nicaragua? How is that possible?'''

She is originally from Bluefields which is in the Atlantic Coast of Nicaragua where Spanish is the second language, so she spoke both very well. [Alongside the Spanish, the British established a protectorate on the eastern seaboard beginning in the middle of the 17th century, and ending roughly two centuries later with the rise of the Spanish Viceroyalty of New Granada in the coast. The eastern seaboard retains its colonial heritage; English and Jamaican Patois are commonly spoken and the [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nicaragua culture in the Atlantic region] identifies as being more Caribbean.]

Coming to Golden Gate Elementary was a turning point in my life, it was pretty much a preview of what life had in store for me in the United States; and that was, I had to fight my way to school every morning and I had to fight my way home every day.

'''Why?'''

Racism is incredibly strong in this country. One of my first obstacles was having to deal with children that didn’t know anything about social studies; or the world at large, they didn’t know where I was from or who I was, all they knew was that I wasn’t like them; so they wanted to kick my butt.

'''What ethnicity were they?'''

This story will wind up into that subject later on. As we speak you will know. [It’s very clear where we are going here]

'''What year were you at Mission High?'''

(I) arrived at mission high school after graduating from Horace Mann Middle School [middle schools were then called junior high schools] in 1966 that was the 9th grade. I was expected to graduate in 1969.

'''Give a little background of conditions in the school, social, ethnic, as well as the halls?'''

(We were) a group of students that were reluctant to accept what this society had to offer. In plain terms we would be called rebels (but) it was a misunderstanding of society. They [the school and society] didn’t understand where we came from and we didn’t understand this place, we had been brought to, we were only children. Just to remind you that most of those children aren’t here anymore because of the misunderstanding. It was pretty much the tail of the fox [what is that—author] that I had already lived through in my elementary and my junior high school years. It was survival of the fittest. It was racism and social standards (that) had a lot to do with it. It was a misunderstanding with the schools back in those days.

'''Can you be more particular? Like what happened in the hallways?'''

Back in those days everybody was in a different group, if you were from a different country you had to look for someone from your country to be your friend. You were not accepted by any other group, so when you walked down the hallway you pretty much looked for faces that you recognize and stick to that. You kept away, if you tried to communicate, you were going to be put down, so it was a matter of holding your pride. We were proud of who we were; so we kept to ourselves. You were proud who you were; you didn’t want to be put down [there was an evident strong emotion in Edgar’s voice]. Back in those days it was a natural thing between periods to look for a person who had a little bit of popularity and social understanding [meaning is unclear here it is either social awareness or social standing] to go hang out in front of his locker while the periods changed spoke to your friends and (made a plan to meet later) . . . .

I don’t want to get into politics, [author encourages Edgar to address social and political issues] what I notice is that Black people have been taught to be aggressive so they can get their way. If you were a newcomer that is pretty much you started to deal with. You would notice that when they were in a bunch they were aggressive. If you met them by themselves they had a little more open mind. If you met them in a group they had a crowd [emphasis by Edgar] mentality. One could set them all off.

'''Let’s talk about what happened in the stairway? We were having lunch and Edy came running up?'''

We used to get free lunch, all the Latinos, as a matter of fact; [author comment: I was not enrolled in the free lunch program, it must have appeared to Edgar that “all” Latinos were “in” on it, having known Edgar for a good deal of his life I know that he was a born hustler and natural leader early on] I was one of the ones of the instigators that tried to get everyone to try to get a free lunch. I had found out you could get free lunch, the idea was to get lunch. It so happened that all the African Americans also got a free lunch. The whole idea was get to the café first, have your lunch, and get the hell out of there and go hang out by the park. So we would all rush to the cafeteria as soon as the bell rang. We started to notice that the black kids, if one got there before us, he would let everyone cut ahead of him. You see this; I’ve been to penitentiary, I’ve been (to) free food lunch programs, that is the way they work it. If I’m ahead then all my brothers [sarcastically] are ahead with me. So we started to learn, we (would) have to see how to deal with this, we figured out that the person closest to the cafeteria would have to get out of class a minute before the bell rang and had to be in line before everyone got there so that we could cut in front of him, so we had it down as a plan that someone would show up and be in line one minute before the bell rang, we would always be first in line. So the African Americans noticed . . . and began . . . and started getting frustrated . . . they didn’t know how to deal with it, so they would get so mad that they would want to pick a fight. They knew that together they were aggressive, single they were calm. If they got in a group they were aggressive. One day, when we were in front of the line, my younger brother Edy began walking down the line trying to get ahead of the line and one of the young guys who was there pushed him, so he reacted the way everyone reacted back then, and he called him “stupid Nigger,” to the young black kid it was like someone had stabbed his mother. [Author: I wouldn’t say everyone reacts like that all the time] He was like, “Come on outside were going to fight right now.” My brother came to me and he said, “Hey I’m going to go outside fight this guy.” I said, “If it is one-on-one go kick his ass.” I told Edy, “Go kick his ass I’m in line, I’m going to eat.” No sooner had he walked out he came back in, he said “I kicked his ass.” He said “He brought out a knife and I broke the bottle and said, ‘You want to deal with it like this come on.’ The kid backed off.”

Edy came back (and) got in line. We all had lunch and went outside to the stairway on Dolores at 18th. Now it has an iron gate, back then you could go sit on the stairways and have lunch as long as you didn’t make a mess. [The interview was at the bell at Dolores Park we looked across the street and saw all the stairways had iron gates] that was 1966/67/68 there were no iron gates. So that day we went out and we were all sitting there. It was a few guys, a few girls, just as the way we always did. We were probably discussing what had gone earlier when I saw a group of kids walking across the street. I recognized them right away. Now, Francisco Flores, who is right here [I am the interviewer, we laugh], and Henry Menjivar was there, may he rest in peace, Oscar Coronado was there, Jose Barraza was there, my brother Edy, and I and a few young women. As I saw them approach us I recognized the young kid who my brother had just smacked. And they came up to, us, but now, he had his two older brothers with him, they were inclined to be more aggressive. They wanted my brother to fight the oldest brother, they had, actually it was (the) middle brother. As the middle brother was saying, “I want to fight you.” I felt compelled to stick up for my brother I said “Hey, he fought your brother, I will fight you.” So then, his older brother stepped in and he said, “No, I will fight you.” And my brother here, Francisco Flores stepped in, which I thank god to the day, and said, ‘No I’ll fight you.’ It was pretty cool. When you said that at the same time Henry said, “What the hell are we talking about,” but he said it in Spanish, “Let’s just kick ass.” There!, that’s when we just jumped on them and started fighting, we came out to them, [we were sitting holed up inside the stairwell]. It just became a rumble, hit who you can while you can, there were more of them than there were of us, it was a little frightening. The defense we had (was) to step forward or we were gonna get caught stuck inside the stairway. It ended up us chasing them outside. Pretty much it was what came down.

[Author: I didn’t manage to get out of the stairway, I and someone else faced them in the stairway, luckily they couldn’t surround us, only two of them could come at us at a time as we traded punches until they retreated chased off.]

'''It was a minute or two?'''

Seconds, seconds was pretty much, just at the spur of the moment, only moments. I remember running with two of them after me. Yea, two after me, I remember it had been raining around that time. I remember smacking one of them with my umbrella, they had umbrellas, too, I remember I was afraid I was gonna get stabbed. Considering the odds and the situation we were under, we were able to get back to where it all started, and laugh at it. Saying, “Hey we all defended ourselves the way we expected”, we were not going to get beat down for no reason.

'''I remember more guys, Latinos coming to help us?'''

I remember people running over to see what was going on because the girls were screaming too. It was a commotion, on that side of the particular block where we sat, it was always very calm, and we were at the other side of the park. [Between 18th and 19th opposite the park next to today’s Dolores Park Café] Everybody used to sit at the park; it was noticeable what was going on. By the time everybody gets there it was all over, as fast as it started it was over. Some white guys came to offer help. [The White-shoes, as we called them, students who hung out by the lunch store called Dine-a-Mite, on the corner of 18th and Church, kitty-corner from the boy’s gym.]
What I’ve been trying to remember is, if it happened before Martin Luther King got killed, or after Martin Luther King got killed, because if it happened after the young African American kids had gone up the hill and had attacked the young white kids (and) they retaliated, which I thought it was pretty stupid because here they were these guys they had nothing to do with what Martin Luther King got killed for or where he got killed. He got killed somewhere in the south, Alabama or something and here we are in San Francisco. Who you are retaliating against are just innocent people. If it happened after, the reason would be we had gotten some people who used to hang out up the hill they came down and said “We’ll help you." If it happened before, it would be that the black kids were very aggressive, it wasn’t just against the people who stood in line for lunch it was against everyone, they weren’t specific about who they were going to target, they didn’t like nobody, they were going to attack anyone.

It was in the newspaper as “Racial Tension at Mission High School.” When the police came, they had riot gear on when they showed up. It had been publicized as a racial riot the next day. End of story goes (that) you [interviewer] went to fight (the) older brother. I think (that if) back then (if) the principal had been told on [reported], he probably would have been prosecuted, whooped, tarred, and feathered. The principal took the stand (that) if we’re going to have a riot here and it’s only because two people fought, let’s just let two people fight it out. And, that will end the whole situation. They took Francisco Flores [points at me] here and the young man, the oldest brother . . . the principal took them up to Twin Peaks. [Actuality the principal and community activists, Alberto Martinet, Jimmy Queen, an officer who was the police-community representative and others took us to Diamond Heights]. It was the idea of the principal who took you. All I remember (is) you coming back saying I kicked his ass it’s over. It must have been the (same) day (when) they got together (to discuss it). [Actually I didn’t really kick his ass what really happened is that we wound up wrapped around each other]

After the fight they thought there was going to be tension. It never materialized as a riot. [Note: as an afterthought Edgar said, “As they were wishing for . . . a riot the next day.” [Author: Edgar assumes that the authorities wanted to see blacks and browns fighting each other, the old adages at play being “divide and conquer” and “let them kill eat other”]. Everybody (was) ready for a fight. It didn’t happen. It would have been to the disadvantage of the African American kids. The, it felt (like the) whole school was behind our group although they didn’t identify . . . us, they didn’t know us, but they knew the group that had defended themselves against the African American kids, they were right. It was the icing on the cake the suds on the beer just spilling over. [Edgar laughs.]

We came back and laughed right there, we came back to the stairs and didn’t go back to school. The whole school was expecting something that day that’s why the next day the riot police was out there. The same day, everyone lined up; Latinos and African Americans. The reason it was happening . . . it wasn’t that serious, I don’t think the people knew why. It was all a surprise to us. To me . . . the young kid was disrespectful and annoying, I wish someone had told him you had it coming sucker. It helps someone a lot more if you tell him the truth, “You know what, you got a big mouth, you go around picking fights now live with it, and you got your ass kicked.”
The next day when you went back to classes what happened?

That there only made me wearier of the whole educational process. There is NO way can you learn feeling a threat. Whether it be from another student or the police or the system. After that day a lot of us, I must say, I didn’t feel comfortable in the classroom, we felt safer in the park surrounded by people that we knew instead of being in the hallway where we didn’t know if someone was going to do something or walk up. . .

'''What was your participation afterwards, when we united with the African American students and presented the demands when we united as a political group with the black students?'''

(I did) to an extent, not very deeply participated, didn’t believe much was going to change. (It seemed the) demands, it was little silly kids demands. I know it had to do (with) the way the school was being run. In the 60s the (the schools were run) in the style of the 50s. It was a different crowd of people (the administration and the students). So the demands were pretty much acceptance. Now I understand what the demands were about.

[The demands were for more Latino teachers, Raza history classes, relevant education, and Latino food in cafeteria.]

'''I remember Fridays after lunch no one would come back to class we would go back to school and party in the hallways? The whole school it seemed to me?'''

If you go back to those days, a lot of those kids were talking about ended up in the penitentiary, many . . . as we now know, I didn’t know then, that the penitentiaries of California, the prison industry, the biggest industry California has, we were all being prepared to work in the biggest industry that California has. That is (getting); an A number; and a B number; a C number; and a D number, it was a way of life. If you don’t want to go along with the program . . . (societies response is) “we already got a program for you.” You are going to end up in San Quentin, Soledad, and Folsom prison.

'''Remember the hall guards?'''

That was the system, those ladies were married to white folk, they didn’t want you to even talk Spanish, they felt it was disrespect, I don’t know to who or to what. I think we were rebels but there were methods of communication that they failed to use. It was their way or no way.

'''What about the reds and acid? I dealt reds, and then I took them.'''

Never touch the merchandise Frankie; I have a saying, that I tell many people, that I use now, “It was easier to get drugs than it was to see your school counselor.” I could come to the park and get drugs and I didn’t need an appointment. I didn’t have to find my counselor in the office, didn’t (have) to be reprimanded or talked (to) bad! to me. It was easier to get drugs than it was to speak to a teacher . . . as that is why it was so easy for all of us to get involved with drugs.

'''Did you graduate?'''

I never thought that I was going to drop out, that I would end up in the situation where I ended up by my eighteenth birthday. But I struggled with society . . . drugs and . . . with my family. Why did I do what I was doing? I did go back to John Adams and graduated from high school. Graduated . . . mechanic technician . . . body and fender. (Afterwards) I went to a trade school (for the skills) [so did the author] but I went to John Adams Adult High School up in the Haight for my diploma, while I was strung out on heroin, I struggled but I went and got to my high school diploma.

'''Have you got any last comments, anything more to say?'''

Not just one, I got a dozen things to say [laughs], but whatever you write out of this . . . that some understanding comes out of it because . . . because the problem is still here, the misunderstanding doesn’t go away, it’s gonna be around, kids are running in more danger than we ever did. We sort of killed ourselves with drugs and now kids are killing themselves with guns, it hasn’t really changed much. In some way . . . this story . . . whatever . . . can shed some light on the problem on the subject . . . that would be god’s way. Good Luck Franqui.

'''Conclusion or summary:'''

This is a small part of a larger history that began months before and [[Openers at Mission High|ended much later]] than the two days that are described here. That history began and continued when a few Latino students began organizing and developed a set of four demands. After this incident the demands expanded to seventeen when we united with the African American at the urging of striking students from SFSU by “raising our level of consciousness” about necessary unity between oppressed peoples—Latinos and Blacks. In the short run the history continues when the demands were attempted to be implemented. But that story is in progress for later . . .

[[Image:Neftali and Oscar.jpg|320px]]

'''bottom-unknown, Choco, top unknown, Francisco Reyes, Julian, behind Oscar Coronado, Neftali with girlfriend, Rigo, standing unknown.'''

''Photo: Francisco FloresLanda''

[[Mission High School Student Organizing 1969 |Prev. Document]] [[Ricardo Carrillo; Mission Youth Activist |Next Document]]

[[category:Mission]] [[category:schools]] [[category:1960s]] [[category:Latino]] [[category:African-American]] [[category:racism]] [[category:Nicaraguan]] [[category:riots]]

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