Guns or Butter

by Bernstein, Irving;

  Among its many distinctions, the nine-campus University of California system was headed by a president, Clark Kerr, who was widely regarded as preeminent in his field. Born into a Quaker family on a farm in Pennsylvania, Kerr had been educated at Swarthmore and Berkeley (Ph.D. in economics) with a specialty in industrial relations. “His mind,” A. H. Raskin wrote, “had extraordinary range and a rare capacity for turning discord into consensus. Kerr ranks among the country’s half-dozen most effective peacemakers in the volatile realm of labor-management warfare—a skill that had prompted every President since Harry S. Truman to enlist his help.” In 1963 Kerr delivered the Godkin Lectures at Harvard. While his main theme was the significance of what he called the multiversity in a society increasingly dependent on knowledge, he noted that

  undergraduate students are restless. Recent changes in the American university have done them little good—lower teaching loads for the faculty, larger classes, the use of substitute teachers for the regular faculty, the choice of faculty members based on research accomplishments rather than instructional capacity, the fragmentation of knowledge into endless subdivisions. There is an incipient revolt of undergraduate students against the faculty; the revolt that used to be against the faculty in loco parentis is now against the faculty in absentia.

  To put it the way many students did, they were frustrated by the size and bureaucratization of the university. At Berkeley they would use the IBM card caution: “Do not bend, fold, spindle, or mutilate.”

  Under Kerr, Lewis S. Feuer wrote, “The University of California at Berkeley was probably the freest campus in the country.” The American Association of University Professors gave the university its award for academic freedom in 1964. A free speech area was open to everyone. The university refused to punish students convicted of off-campus civil rights disturbances. Compulsory ROTC was abolished. While murder and larceny were frowned upon, anyone could say almost anything pretty much anywhere.

  For most of its history the town of Berkeley and the university had been serene, a quiet hillside with a superb view overlooking San Francisco Bay and, not least, a balmy climate. “There is no place in the world,” a visiting British professor observed, “where uncomfortable people can feel so comfortable.” Around 1960 this began to change. “The gentle sunny surroundings,” Feuer wrote, “the relaxed mode of life, the record shops, bookstores, restaurants, and students’ apartments, the reputation of the Berkeley police force for its tolerance toward deviants, nonconformists and militants, and the university’s free offering of immense cultural riches in lectures, plays, concerts, and books” were irresistible. Nonstudents flooded into Berkeley and “professional students” and their dogs refused to leave. Many hung out in the student union complex, where over coffee they discussed leftist politics, ideology, tactics, and the burdens of life. They constituted a kind of reserve army waiting for the call to the colors.

  There were several forays prior to the main battle. In the spring of 1960 a large group from Berkeley disrupted the hearings of the House Un-American Activities Committee in San Francisco’s City Hall, leading to a confrontation with the police, including being hosed down the steps and getting arrested. The civil rights struggles in the South in 1963 aroused great sympathy. The novelist James Baldwin, James Forman of CORE, and Malcolm X addressed large crowds. In early 1964 students picketed a grocery chain, the Sheraton-Palace Hotel, car dealers, and the Bank of America in San Francisco for discrimination against blacks in hiring. Again there were confrontations with the police and many arrests.

  Bancroft Way marked the southern boundary of university property. Telegraph Avenue, a major artery to the South, deadended at Bancroft. Directly across the street was a major university entrance. The sidewalk was the property of the city of Berkeley; beyond it a bronze plaque in the brick pavement read: “Property of the Regents of the University of California. Permission to enter or pass over is revocable at any time.” It lay in an open strip 26 feet deep. At the rear a row of posts marked the actual entrance. It was not unreasonable for one who did not read the plaque to conclude erroneously that the strip was not university property. It had, in fact, been used by activists for years to distribute leaflets from card tables. Kerr, concerned about the ambiguity and the risk of trouble, had persuaded the regents in 1959 to deed the strip to the city for a public plaza. But, in what Raskin called a “Dostoyevskian” lapse, the university treasurer did not carry out the land cession. “If he had, the whole melancholy chain of events might never have begun.”

  The university had a rule which forbade political proselytizing on campus. During the spring and summer of 1964 the administrators became concerned about the racket from bongo drums, bike riders in pedestrian areas, leaflet litter, and, more seriously, tables with city permits moving into the strip. In the fall enrollment would rise and there would be a presidential campaign. Thus, the dean of students informed all student organizations that the political proselytizing rule would be enforced on September 21, “including the 26-foot strip of brick walkway.”

  The student organizations were outraged and formed a United Front. On September 20 they voted to picket, conduct vigils and rallies, and act in civil disobedience if the university held firm. It did. On September 29 the front escalated by setting up unauthorized tables at several places on the campus. The next day those at the tables received citations and were instructed to come to Sproul Hall at 3:00 that afternoon. About 500 marched over and an administrator tried to turn them away. They sat down inside the building.

  The United Front now found a voice. Mario Savio, slender and intense, was a brilliant speaker. His grandfather in Italy had been a Fascist, his father in New York a sheet metal worker. Raised as a Catholic, he had attended the church’s Manhattan College and had been president of the Fraternity of Christian Doctrine at Queen’s College. Now he was a junior in philosophy at Berkeley. He had recently undergone a religious crisis and had abandoned Catholicism. He picked up the concept of alienation from Marx. Savio spent the summer of 1963 helping the poor in Taxco, Mexico, build a laundry. The next summer he was in Mississippi teaching at a Freedom School. In private conversation he stuttered. Before a large audience he spoke with eloquence and command. Now he fired a broad attack on the university and gave the unrest a platform: “The issue is freedom of speech.” Thus, the Free Speech Movement.

  The next morning, October 1, the tables were back up, three in front of Sproul Hall. Jack Weinberg of CORE was arrested at its table. He went limp (a “limpnick”) as the police dragged him to their car. A crowd sat down around the vehicle. Savio removed his shoes and climbed on top. He posed three demands: (1) No suspension of students; (2) Chancellor E. W. Strong must accept “reasonable regulations governing freedom of speech”; and (3) no disciplinary action against anyone setting up tables. Unless these demands were met, Savio threatened “continuous direct action.” Charlie Powell, president of the official Associated Students, invited Savio to join him in a talk with the chancellor. They returned in an hour to report that Chancellor Strong refused to yield to pressure, that he would talk only if the demonstration ended.

  At 2:30 Savio led 150 demonstrators into Sproul Hall. At 4:00 Jackie Goldberg went into the building to make an appointment with a dean. A policeman told her that, if she tried to enter the office, she would be arrested. She said later, “I just did something very irrational. I just said, ‘Well, if you’re not going to let us in, we’re not going to let you out.’ “ She told the demonstrators to block the door. Some 400 joined the “pack-in.” At 6:00 the police began to lock the doors. The demonstrators tried to push them away and there was a struggle. A girl whose hair was pulled by an officer screamed. Several students dragged a policeman to the floor and took off his boots. Savio bit him in the leg. The students withdrew from the building at 9:00 to join the crowd still at the car.

  The next morning, Friday, October 2, some 200 people remained around the police car. Officers from Oakland, Alameda County, Berkeley, and
the California Highway Patrol began taking positions at Sproul Hall. By 5:30 there were about 500 officers, including 100 on motorcycles. About 7000 demonstrators and onlookers were in the area.

  Kerr met with the United Front leaders to discuss a faculty proposal to break the impasse. After tense negotiations they reached this agreement at 7:20:

  1. Demonstrators would “desist” from illegal protest against university regulations.

  2. A committee of students, faculty, and the administration would recommend rules of “political behavior and its control.”

  3. Weinberg would be booked, released on his own recognizance, and the university would not press charges.

  4. The “duration of the suspension” of suspended students would be submitted to the faculty’s Student Conduct Committee.

  5. Student organizations would continue to function in accordance with existing regulations.

  6. Kerr, already committed, would follow through on deeding the strip to the city.

  Mario Savio addressing the Free Speech Movement at Sproul Plaza at the University of California, Berkeley. October I,1964. Lon Wilson, Bancroft Library.

  White House aides Joe Califano and Larry O’Brien totting up the huge Great Society gains. August 17, 1965. Yoichi R. Okamoto, LBJ Library Collection.

  In Independence, Missouri, LBJ signed Medicare into law, honoring Harry Truman, who started the push for health care. Lady Bird Johnson, Hubert Humphrey, and Bess Truman look on. July 30, 1965. LBJ Library Collection.

  LBJ signing the Civil Rights Act, July 2, 1964. Cecil Stottghton, LBJ Library Collection.

  LEJ signing the immigration reform law at the Statue of Liberty. October 3, 7965. Prank Wolfe, LBJ Library Collection.

  Rachel Carson, whose great book, Silent Spring,launched environmental concern with chemical pollution. Library of Congress.

  LBJ with his grade school teacher in the schoolhouse he attended in the hill country of Texas. Here he signed the Elementary and Secondary Education Act, April 11, 1965. Yoichi R. Okamoto, LBJ Library Collection.

  Secretary Udall with Johnson’s strong support created a great many new parks. Here in 1968 Lady Bird Johnson visited the jewel in the crown, Redwood National Park in Northern California. Robert Knudsen, LBJ Library Collection.

  LBJ with Senator Edmund Muskie of Maine, the congressional leader on air and water pollution legislation. Yoichi R. Okamoto, LBJ Library Collection.

  LBJ backed the.arts, including the modern art Hirshhorn Museum on the Mall in Washington, shown nearing completion. Rodin’s masterpiece, The Burghers of Calais, is being positioned in the sculpture garden. Library of Congress.

  During the Tet offensive in 1968 the Vietcong seized Hué. Here the Marines take the city back in costly and bitter fighting. UPI/Bettmann.

  LBJ confers with Vietnam commander General Westmoreland. November 16, 1967. Yoichi R. Okamoto, LBJ Library Collection.

  Some of those wounded in Vietnam were returned to the U.S. by air. Library of Congress.

  Antiwar protest. Women at the Capitol. January 15, 1968. UPI/Bettmann.

  Antiwar protest at the White House, including Coretta King and Dr. Benjamin Spock. May 17, 1967. Robert Knudsen, LBJ Library Collection.

  Antiwar protest at the General Logan monument in Chicago’s Grant Park during the Democratic convention. August 26, 1968. UPI/Bettmann.

  Antiwar protest on the street in Saigon. A Buddhist bonze immolates himself. UPI/Bettmann.

  Secretary McNamara viewing the huge antiwar demonstration at the Pentagon on October 21, 1967, from his office window. UPI/Bettmann.

  A troubled President after Tet. LBJ listening to a tape from his son-in-law Chuck Robb, a Marine in Vietnam. Jack Kightlinger, LBJ Library Collection.

  The Establishment “Wise Men” who, above,on November 2, 1967, supported LBJ on the war; after Tet on March 26, 1968, the majority urged him to seek peace. Yoichi R. Okamoto (photo above) and Frank Wolfe (photo below), LBJ Library Collection.

  Running for the Democratic nomination for President, Senator Eugene McCarthy carried the Wisconsin primary on April 2, 1968. UPl/Bettmann.

  Bobby Kennedy won the California primary on June 6, 1968. A few moments later he was assassinated. UPl/Bettmann.

  Vice President Humphrey, the Democratic candidate for President, appealed to LBJ for his support and failed to receive it. Yoichi R. Okamoto, LBJ Library Collection.

  Republican candidate Richard Nixon and his running mate Spiro Agnew visited LBJ at his ranch on August 10, 1968. Nixon and Johnson agreed on a continuation of the war. Mike Ceissinger, LBJ Library Collection.

  Savio explained the agreement to the demonstrators and they went home. The police also left. All that remained in the plaza was the battered police car.

  Over the weekend the United Front changed its name to the Free Speech Movement. It was now drawing support from the student body, even from the fraternities.

  For more than a month FSM engaged in uneasy negotiations with the administration and the faculty over discipline for the violation of rules. FSM demanded protection of speech to the full reach of the First Amendment as administered by civil authorities. The university insisted on its own time, place, and manner rules. Negotiations collapsed on November 9, 1964.

  Over Thanksgiving, Strong sent citations to Savio, Jackie and Art Goldberg, and Brian Turner for misconduct during the police car incident. FSM demanded that the charges be dropped and Strong refused. FSM called for a demonstration at Sproul Plaza on December 2. A large crowd, perhaps 5000, gathered. Savio called passionately for civil disobedience by entering the building. Joan Baez sang “We Shall Overcome” as the crowd filed in to participate in what they called a “Free University”—square dancing, watching Laurel and Hardy movies, a Jewish Chanukah service, folk singing led by Baez, a lecture on conflict theory by a sociology professor. The doors were locked at 7:00.

  That night Kerr conferred with key regents and the governor. Brown ordered the police to clear the building and arrest the demonstrators for trespass. Over 600 officers from the university, Berkeley, Oakland, Alameda County, and the California Highway Patrol began the arrests at 3:05 a.m. on December 3. It took 12 hours to book 773 persons, who were taken to the county’s Santa Rita Prison Farm.

  FSM called a strike and pickets patrolled the entrances to the campus. A large crowd gathered in the plaza at noon to hear speeches denouncing the arrests. About 800 professors met in Wheeler Auditorium at 1:00. They criticized the administration, condemned police intervention, and insisted on amnesty for those in jail. FSM demanded that classes be canceled on Friday, December 4, and many were.

  Over the weekend Kerr met with the governor, several regents, and members of the faculty. On Sunday he announced that all classes would be canceled on Monday morning. The department heads had drafted a new program. Kerr said he would present it to the students in the Greek Theatre.

  Political scientist Robert Scalapino chaired the meeting and only Kerr was scheduled to speak. Savio sat in the press section as 16,000 jammed the theater. Kerr, flanked by the department chairmen, announced that the administration had accepted their terms:

  1. The university would be governed by “orderly and lawful procedures.”

  2. The Senate Committee on Academic Freedom would report the new rules.

  3. The chairmen condemned the acts of civil disobedience that had taken place on December 2–3.

  4. The cases of persons arrested for such acts were now before the courts. The university would not prosecute them retroactively, but it would impose discipline for any new transgressions.

  5. Classes would be held as scheduled.

  As Scalapino moved to close the meeting, Savio crossed the stage and two university officers grabbed him. The audience chanted, “Let him speak.” Allowed to, Savio announced that there would be a rally in the plaza and asked the crowd to leave. A large number went to the plaza, where Savio urged them to strike classes. Many were not held that afternoon.

  Alm
ost 1000 members of the faculty turned out for a meeting of the Academic Senate at Wheeler Auditorium on December 8. Several thousand students gathered outside to listen to the proceedings. Scalapino presented the recommendations of the Committee on Academic Freedom:

  1. No discipline for acts prior to December 8.

  2. Time, place, and manner rules for political activity presently in effect shall continue.

  3. The content of speech or advocacy shall not be regulated by the university.

  4. Future discipline shall be handled by a committee of the senate.

  The report was adopted by a vote of 824 to 115. The students cheered. Authority seemed to have shifted from the administration to the faculty.

  On January 2, 1965, the regents dismissed Chancellor Strong and replaced him with Martin Meyerson, dean of the College of Environmental Design. The FSM disbanded.

  The Berkeley uprising, widely covered by the media, was a very important event. It showed, as earlier experiences in Europe and Latin America had already demonstrated, that a university, even a great one, is a fragile institution which can be brought to its knees by a relatively small group of determined students who play the game of confrontation politics skillfully. Its only defense is to call in the police, which inevitably foments violence. That, in turn, undermines the freedom of expression and the civility in human intercourse upon which a university depends. But this is only temporary because a university is virtually indestructible. The sociologist Nathan Glazer, who was active in these events, wrote in 1968 after several later Berkeley rebellions: