A Brief (Recent) History on How the National Security State Manages the News (Part I: All Politics is Local)

In the cross-hairs of an Apache gun: This image captured from a classified U.S. military video footage shows a wounded Iraqi person being loaded onto a van during a 2007 attack by Apache helicopters that killed a dozen people in Baghdad, including two Reuters news staff on July 12, 2007, and released to Reuters on April 5, 2010 by WikiLeaks, a group that promotes leaking to fight government and corporate corruption. Reuters photographer Namir Noor-Eldeen, 22, and his assistant and driver Saeed Chmagh, 40, were killed in the incident. The helicopter initially opens fire on the small group. Minutes later a van comes by, and starts assisting the wounded, and the helicopter opens fire on the van. From video leaked to Wikileaks.

In the cross-hairs of an Apache gun: This image captured from a classified U.S. military video footage shows a wounded Iraqi person being loaded onto a van during a 2007 attack by Apache helicopters that killed a dozen people in Baghdad, including two Reuters news staff on July 12, 2007, and released to Reuters on April 5, 2010 by WikiLeaks, a group that promotes leaking to fight government and corporate corruption. Reuters photographer Namir Noor-Eldeen, 22, and his assistant and driver Saeed Chmagh, 40, were killed in the incident. The helicopter initially opens fire on the small group. Minutes later a van comes by, and starts assisting the wounded, and the helicopter opens fire on the van. From video leaked to Wikileaks. Click to enlarge.

The hearing in the case of Bradley Manning has no currency in the mass “news” media. It barely merits network mention. The New York Times has no reporter at it, much to the embarrassment of its public editor. If it weren’t for liberal blogs, it would probably have no coverage. At one time, this would have seemed astonishing. This after all is the defendant who (together with Wikileaks) Admiral Mullen, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, breathlessly claimed had “on their hands the blood of some young soldier or that of an Afghan family.”  The Pentagon’s website still posts the AFPS article quoting him. That’s how proud they are of his bombast. Evidence that the disclosures were important is that  The New York Times published numerous of the documents. But most importantly, Manning is said to be the source of the video, hid by the Defense Department, showing the callous murder by (and giggling excitement of) an Apache helicopter crew of several non-combatants including journalists on July 6, 2010 in Baghdad. After the brutal, long distance murder, the crew then attacked those who came to provide medical care to the innocents, seriously wounding two small children in the process. One crew member is heard on the video, unrepentant, blaming the civilians for the harm to the children. The U.S. military, of course, justified this war crime. Instead it is prosecuting Manning. You can view the entire video, the one the military tried to hide, here, and decide for yourself who should be prosecuted.

Photo taken by United States Army photographer Ronald L. Haeberle on March 16, 1968 in the aftermath of the My Lai massacre showing mostly women and children dead on a road. Wikipedia.Click to enlarge.

Photo taken by United States Army photographer Ronald L. Haeberle on March 16, 1968 in the aftermath of the My Lai massacre showing mostly women and children dead on a road. Wikipedia. Click to enlarge.

But of course the military is in the business of bloody hands and doesn’t like anyone to learn exactly how increasingly unsqueamish it has become in the manner, number and circumstance of the killings it does. It’s first reaction to anything untoward is to baldly lie. When that becomes problematic it ties to cover up. It’s principal strategy of course is to prevent disclosure of any details  or at least as many as it can keep hidden. Sometimes that is not possible, and great crimes are disclosed, such as the My Lai massacre. But before the truth of what happened on that hellish March 16, 1968 in that little hamlet in Quang Ngai province not far from the South China Sea, many official lies were handed out, including the whitewashing by then Major, now sainted, Colin Powell. (Of course General Powell has since then been called on to do other whitewashing, for example, at the United Nations.) The eventual disclosure of the Crime against Humanity that took place there does not, however, show how the Pentagon eventually does the right thing. Quite the reverse. One of the many soldiers who came forward in the hope that our military machine might do the right thing wrote that in the Ninth Division alone there was “a My Lay each month for over a year.”* Only one was investigated; and that after much pressure from Congress.

U.S. Army Major Colin Powell around the time he was whitewashing the My Lai massacre.

U.S. Army Major Colin Powell around the time he was whitewashing the My Lai massacre.

It is, therefore,  not surprising that no action has been taken against any member of the Apache helicopter group that engaged the civilians. Even so, the treatment of the alleged whistle-blower, Bradley Manning, is unprecedented. Normally, the accuser is not arrested. And normally, a member of the U.S. military is not openly tortured by the U.S. military. And it is unusual in a military court-martial for the Chief Executive to pronounce the defendant guilty before trial. At this point we could mention that the Chief Executive in question was once a supposed Constitutional Law Professor and was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. But recent disclosures of his actions have only made me conclude that his students wasted their time if they studied anything about “due process” in his course, because he clearly has a non-traditional concept of it himself.

So I thought it worth a bit of time to trace how we went from a military whose journalistic arsenal including basically only lying, to the more “robust” approach we now see. And of course, the best place to take up the story is with Vietnam.

NBC cameraman Neil Davis, worrking solo in Vietnam. Davis was one of a handful of courageous jounalists that brorught the real war into Ameican homes. After the Americans left, he filmed the fall of the Presidential palace in Saigon. A decade later he filmed his own death during a short-lived coup attempt in Bangkok.

NBC cameraman Neil Davis, working solo in Vietnam. Davis was one of a handful of courageous journalists that brought the real war into American homes. After the Americans left, he filmed the fall of the Presidential palace in Saigon. A decade later he filmed his own death during a short-lived coup attempt in Bangkok.

The Vietnam war showed to many that journalism (in the strict sense, not the faux-analysis entertainment that broadcast news has become) can be the most serious threat to the national security state. Hard as it is to believe, journalists risked their lives to tell the story of that war, and they were largely not interfered with by our government. As a result, the three television networks and the major newspapers (particularly The New York Times) brought into our homes an increasingly disturbing account of what our country was doing. It was a view that was strikingly at odds with how we saw our nation. The cognitive dissonance could not continue at this high state of tension, and eventually the United States was forced to negotiate the best outcome it could and leave its erstwhile “ally” to the tender mercies of the godless enemy whose barbarism and threat to our own way of life the national security state had been mythologizing for over a decade. This took place not under the Administration of some leftist Democrat, but rather under the tough-guy poseur Richard Nixon and his Metternich-aspiring advisor/rival Henry Kissinger. It is hard to imagine two collaborators in American history whose immense self-image contrasted so dramatically with the destruction they caused. And only one part of it was the debacle in Vietnam.

Le déluge: Air America's desperate withdrawal of CIA staff from the top of the Presidential Palace in Saigon on April 29, 1975 (Photo: Hubert van Es / UPI.) Click to enlarge.

Le déluge: Air America’s desperate withdrawal of CIA staff from the top of the Presidential Palace in Saigon on April 29, 1975 (Photo: Hubert van Es / UPI.) Click to enlarge.

The outcome, where the National Security State’s most devoutly wished for consummation (whatever it was, but it didn’t involve “cutting and running”) was stymied under America’s foremost anti-Communist and his nuclear war-loving comrade, by a pack of unarmed journalists and the American people (as well as the colossal arrogance and incompetence of the two “experts” in national security), caused immense agony in all corners of the military-industrial establishment. Politicians worried that never-ending-war would be taken out of their quiver of policy options. The military worried that it had been disgraced and neutered, perhaps resulting in a future of less money. (They need not have feared that outcome.) Think tanks and other right-wing idea-spawners pondered how to return to full military glory: if not all the way back to full-bore Vietnamization of the country, at least to unfettered military responses in support of right-wing dictators throughout our own hemisphere, as we had grown accustomed was not only our right but our destiny.

Lyndon Johnson on national television from the Oval Office on March 31, 1968 announcing a bombing halt and his decision not to run for re-election. (LBJ Library C9286-24.) Click to enlarge.

Lyndon Johnson on national television from the Oval Office on March 31, 1968 announcing a bombing halt and his decision not to run for re-election. (LBJ Library C9286-24.) Click to enlarge.

The National Security State all along was vaguely aware of the threat of hostile public opinion, however theoretical, and took steps to direct it. During Johnson’s Administration that part of organized labor represented by the AFL-CIO (that is, the greatest part) was fully coopted into the war movement. The FBI recorded the activities of protestors and activists, including Martin Luther King who had come to realize that the same forces that ground the lives of southern Negroes into the dirt were also grinding the lives American blacks (and others) into the paddies of Southeast Asia. But the great American warriors were never truly comfortable with LBJ, however much he had been onboard at the beginning, however much he understood the great danger of the American right claiming that he had “lost” Vietnam, just as the right had been claiming for a decade that traitors in the State Department had “lost” China. And in the end LBJ would betray great American war-whoopers, when he suspended bombing, declared he would not run for re-election, and sought negotiations. Betrayed but not defeated, the American war machine found its hero in Richard Nixon, a long-time anti-communist and smearer of those who wavered in the least in their war whooping; a politician whose secret plan for ending the war (never disclosed to the electorate) was winning it. And so instead of winding down the long and unsuccessful operation, it was decided to make another bloody push to see if our war machine could quickly break their spirit. So bombing was ramped up and ground troops expanded the war into another country, Cambodia.

Red hunting at HUAC: A staged photo of Rep. Richard Nixon, R-CA, investigator Robert Stripling, and Rep. J. Parnell Thomas, R-NJ, left to right, over transcripts of  testimony in the House Un-American Activities committee spy inquiry August 26, 1948, preparatory to turning it over to the Justice Department. (AP Photo/Bill Achatz)

Red hunting at HUAC: A staged photo of Rep. Richard Nixon, R-CA, investigator Robert Stripling, and Rep. J. Parnell Thomas, R-NJ, left to right, over transcripts of testimony in the House Un-American Activities committee spy inquiry August 26, 1948. (AP Photo/Bill Achatz)

Nixon, who undoubtedly saw himself as some sort of world historical figure along the lines of Frederick the Great, was in the process, domestically, of undoing the alignments of the two political parties in America. The Democrats had for many years (since whites began voting as a majority in the South after the Civil War) a secure base in the old confederacy. But such support as the Democrats provided the civil rights movement in the 1960s offered Nixon a chance to peel southern whites away from the Democrats. So Nixon fashioned a persona which played on southern white resentment as well as middle class white Americans elsewhere who viewed with varying degrees of surprise and horror the emergence of a variety of liberal and radical movements, mostly in the large cities and on college campuses. Nixon called his coalition of resentment and fear the Silent Majority. The “policy” he offered this group was Law and Order. Authoritarian populists always offer this dish up with a helping of Resentment. The objects of the resentment were the classes he intimated got away with the most: principally urban blacks and protestors, especially college student protestors. The latter he once famously called “bums.”†

Before shock politics became nightly entertainment, Spiro Agnew learned that outrageous charges in colorful language got you picture on the cover of popular magazines.

Before shock politics became nightly entertainment, Spiro Agnew learned that outrageous charges in colorful language got you picture on the cover of popular magazines.

No one, however, was better able at cultivating resentment than Nixon’s vice president, Spiro Agnew. Agnew was a priggish, self-righteous man, whose smugness grew as his snide and pompous attacks made him a darling of the war-loving conservatives. He specialized in sneering attacks on journalists, intellectuals and everyone associated with universities. Nixon was also able to use Agnew as an emissary to the southern whites, given Agnew’s confrontation with black leaders while governor of Maryland.

By 1970 the Administration was ramping up its confrontation with antiwar protestors. By then public confidence in the war effort, not great at the beginning of the Administration, had been severely shaken by publication of the My Lai Massacre in November 1969. The Administration was also ruminating on the dangerous course of going all in for a military solution: While officially continuing its policy of  “Vietnamization” it would nonetheless massively support the South Vietnamese army’s invasion of neutral Cambodia to root out the bases from which North Vietnamese regular and Vietcong forces could invade the South. The decision was made on April 25. Nixon would seal the fate of hundreds of American soldiers, thousands of South Vietnamese forces and millions of Cambodians not at a formal meeting of the Joint Chiefs or with his Secretary of Defense, but late at night after Nixon had watched Patton with Bebe Rebozo (a buffoon, one of Nixon’s secret money conduits and man who dodged many an indictment) and Henry Kissinger.

Nixon well knew the public reaction; so it was important to pre-emptively lambast the  sources likely to cause the most problems. And so on April 28, 1970, Spiro Agnew found himself in a tense Republican Party fund-raiser in St. Petersburg, Florida right before the Republican primaries. (This was the night before the Pentagon would announce that the United States would provide “advisors and other support” for the South Vietnamese Army’s action in Cambodia.) The Florida GOP had been riven by a feud between two top party figures, who were themselves each facing challenges (the governor was being challenged in a primary and a U.S. Representative running for Senate (at Nixon’s behest) in another primary, by Harrold Carswell, Nixon’s failed “mediocre” nominee for Supreme Court). Agnew’s balm for the troubles at $250-a-plate dinner was his usual: resentment against intellectuals. This time he publicly called for Yale alumni to seek the dismissal of Yale president Kingman Brewster, who had questioned whether black revolutionaries (about to be tried in New Haven) could get a fair trial. It was perfect Agnew, he could wail against black radicals and disloyal college types all at once. He also jabbed University of Michigan President Robben Fleming, who had criticized a speech by Agnew and permitted a 12-day strike by students. Agnew said that Fleming’s actions “were indistinguisable” from those of the Black Power Movement. Everything seemed to come back to trouble-making Negroes in this southern political enclave. In the course of this diatribe, Agnew made national news when he “also offered ‘one modest suggestion for my friends in the academic community:

‘Next time a mob of students waving their nonnegotiable demands starts pitching bricks and rocks at the student union, just imagine they’re wearing brown shirts or white sheets and act accordingly.

‘It’s better to have a confrontation than a cave-in.’”‡

Six days later at a protest over the Cambodia incursion (as Nixon called it) at Kent State University, National Guardsmen fired 67 rounds of live .30-06 FMJ ammunition at students, protestors and bystanders indiscriminately. The students had been protesting since Nixon’s televised address on April 30, announcing the Cambodia incursion. Two hundred National Guard soldiers were on campus that Monday, May 4, because Governor Jim Rhodes ordered them and authorized the use of live ammunition. He did this because he was losing a political campaign.

DownloadedFileIn 1968 James Allen Rhodes, recently elected to his second term as governor of Ohio by a great margin, had been mentioned as a possible running-mate for Nixon. Not because he was a prominent statesman, of course (he rose from retail ward politics and in any event, Nixon showed he was not interested in having a statesman as a running mate), but because he was thought popular enough to help Nixon carry the critically important electoral votes of Ohio. Rhodes attended the Miami convention as a Rockefeller supporter, and thought he could act as king-maker by withholding Ohio’s first ballot votes. Nixon, however, won on the fist ballot anyway, and the prospect of a Rhodes vice-presidency evaporated. This was only the beginning of the problems for Rhodes and his political ambitions.

Rhodes was term-limited by the Ohio Constitution. So after 1970, he would be out of office. But there was a U.S. Senate seat open that year. Democrat Stephen M. Young formally announced in October 1969 that he would retire from the Senate. And from that time it was pretty clear Rhodes had his eye on the seat. Rhodes was not a natural fit for the most exclusive gentlemen’s club in the world. He was, according to a long-time Ohio pol-watcher, “a fast-talking, hard-sell Buckeye huckster.”** Carl Stokes said that he looked “like a football player turned mortician.”†† Nevertheless, the Ohio Republican establishment had hoped that Congressman Robert Taft would run for governor and Rhodes for Senate. This would prevent a bloody intra-party rivalry, which was frowned on by GOP boss Ray C. Bliss. “They are enervating, divisive, and drain the party’s financial resources,” said Bliss, once state party chairman.‡‡ (Bliss’s real prominence came from running the national GOP after the disastrous Goldwater campaign. Putting the party back together in one cycle was key to Nixon’s win in 1968.) Moreover, Republicans thought that a ticket with the twice-elected governor (albeit for Senate) and Congressman Robert Taft (for governor), the current representative of the old Ohio (and elsewhere) Republican name, would be unbeatable. But Life Magazine had an exposé on Rhodes, which changed everyone’s calculations.

Click to enlarge.

Click to enlarge.

The May 2, 1969 cover’s headline read “Scandal overtakes the Governor of Ohio.” Inside was a two-part piece. The first, “The governor and the mobster: Commutation of Mafioso Thomas (Yonnie) Licavoli’s sentence by Ohio Governor James Rhodes raises a cloud of scandal,” by Danny Welsh, told the odd story of how Rhodes had commuted the first degree murder convictions of Prohibition Era gangster Licavoli for four gangland slayings. The commutation was to allow the parole board to grant immediate parole. Life related the story that there was a mafia offer of a quarter of a million dollars for anyone that would free Licavoli. It claimed that Licavoli still had strong mob ties, including with his brother, who was one of the ruling dons of Detroit. The second part resurrected a claim from 1962 of mismanagement of campaign funds (actually converting them to personal use) with the added twist that Rhodes was required to pay the IRS $100,000 in back taxes, interest and penalties. John McElroy, the governor’s chief aide, vehemently denied that there was anything crooked involved in the commutation and took the blame on himself for suggesting the commutation. He hedged on the tax issue, claiming that Rhodes had never been required to pay a “penalty,” and suggesting that the Life figures were exaggerated.***

The charges stung Rhodes; particularly the financial irregularity charge because there was no definitive denial. There was talk of suing Life, but time went on and there was no suit. Could it be that there was no defense to the misappropriation and tax charge? Rhode’s vulnerability decided Taft to go for the Senate seat. He had been in D.C. for 6 years, why would he want to be Governor? And the next Governor would be forced to propose an income tax, to solve revenue shortfalls. The political half-life of a politician making such a move would be quite short. Other politicians also smelled blood in the water and started making noises, particularly right-winger Donald E. Lukens, another U.S. Congressman. When the first polls were taken in November 1969, Rhodes was not the favorite: 43% of Republicans favored Taft; 40% Rhodes and 17% for Lukens.†††

Rhodes’s problems increased when Roger Ailes joined Taft’s staff to manage media operations. Rhodes was already at a disadvantage when it came to matters of style. Taft was handsome, Ivy League educated, the son of a Senator and the grandson of a President. The name “Taft” signified traditional Ohio Republican values. But Robert Taft was modern, telegenic and in tune with the times. He was for education and a gradual end to the war and other mildly progressive things. Rhodes, who never finished college, politicked the old-fashioned way, the only way he knew, with all the machine types. Syndicated columnist Joseph Kraft described a Rhodes campaign event:

“A Rhodes dinner here in Cleveland recently was almost a caricature of the old politics.

More than 50 ward leaders from Cleveland and its suburbs were introduced. Then candidates for judicial office. Then some other officeholders. Then the governor.

He started with a couple of jokes about the dinner costing 98 cents. He advised everybody to distribute sample ballots. He compared college education unfavorably with vocational education. He stopped to mispronounce the word ‘allocation’ a couple of times. He hit hard on the importance of jobs.

The high point came with the local issuesraised lovingly and in great detail. Rhodes announcedfor the nth time during the daythat he was stopping construction on part of an interstate highway due to run through the suburb of Shaker Heights. He called on the mayor of Shaker Heights to stand up. When the crowd cheered, Rhodes declared that blocking the construction was ‘the equal of the Crusades and the Renaissance combined.’”‡‡‡

By April Rhodes’ campaign was floundering. The one year statute of limitations on libel claims was soon to expire, so Rhodes sued Life—in New York. Rhodes had avoided debates for as long as it was seemly and now he had to engage them. When the first one took on April 21, it was an undistinguished affair. Both candidates supported Nixon’s efforts to bring peace to Vietnam with orderly withdrawal of American troops and both pledged to repeal the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution, which authorized the whole misfated adventure. Rhodes even went further and opined that “the United States cannot police the world. ‘Asians will rule Asia, Africans will rule Africa and South Americans will rule South America,’ the governor said.”****

Nixon goes all in: On April 30, 1970, he makes the surprising announcement that American forces would provide support for the South Vietnamese kincursion into Cambodia.

Nixon goes all in: On April 30, 1970, he makes the surprising announcement that American forces would provide support for the South Vietnamese actions in Cambodia. (National Archives and Records Administration. NAI: 194674.)

It didn’t matter to the Taft campaign that the debate was a dreary draw. By that time public polls and the polls the Taft campaign itself conducted showed that Taft led Rhodes by as much as 8%.†††† This of course is an extremely great advantage two weeks before the election. Something extraordinary would have to happen for Rhodes to make up that ground. And something extraordinary did happen.

While the two candidates were hitching their wagons to Nixon’s supposed plan to withdraw American troops from Vietnam, Nixon was watching war movies with Bebe Rebozo and seeing himself as Frederick the Great. Unknown to these local Republicans (and America in general), the plan would be greater war. And with that an explosion of protest. On Saturday, April 25, Nixon watched Patton and the die was cast. On Thursday, April 30, he explained the plan on national television. From his description, the plan was not simple logistical support. It was going for broke.

On Friday, May 1, the campus of Kent State University erupted in complete pandemonium. The Mayor of Kent asked the governor for National Guard troops. Rhodes, who didn’t much like college students, didn’t at all like disorder, and hated losing elections, complied. He was going to ride Law and Order for the next four days to the Primary.

On the debate Saturday night May 2, Rhodes struck Taft with full-bore, righteous Law and Order. It was a poor man’s version of Nixon/Agnew. He brayed that he “was cracking down on ‘anarchy’ and accused Taft of preferring to ‘coddle’ students and of having a ‘soft attitude on campus violence.’”‡‡‡‡ Taft would coddle these criminals, he implied. “My opponent’s soft attitude on campus violence is not surprising since in 1968 he voted against an amendment … requiring colleges to deny federal funds to students who participate in serious campus disorders.”***** Just like at Kent State, they would find out later, where the ROTC building was on fire.

The show was not over. The next day he would fly to Kent. To make clear what he intended to happen, and to wrap himself in Nixon and Agnew’s Resentment, he called a press conference during which he described the college protestors:

“They’re worse than the Brownshirts, and the Communist element, and also the Night Riders, and the vigilantes. They’re the worst type of people that we harbor in America.”†††††

National Guardsmen with fixed bayonets immediately prior to shooting on May 4, 1970 near Taylor Hall, at Kent State Univesity. Click to enlarge.

National Guardsmen with fixed bayonets immediately prior to shooting on May 4, 1970 near Taylor Hall, at Kent State University. Click to enlarge.

The next day the National Guard, locked and loaded, wound tight by the Governor’s message, filled with the kind of anger and resentment that floated through the county from the commander-in-chief and his chief henchman, fired. Four died. Nine were seriously wounded. One was paralyzed for life.

And that is one way the national security state works. It doesn’t always require a chain of command. In fact, it works best when emotions are hyped by fear and false patriotism, and plans are put into effect not by a grand design, but by the self-interested motives of petty local tyrants. Even ones whose horizons are limited by interstate highways about to invade a politically connected suburb. Those petty tyrants are never disavowed by their betters. unless, of course, there is universal revulsion, as in My Lai or Abu Graib. But revulsion is almost never directed at the perpetrators. Usually it is directed at the victims. And usually the perpetrators are benefitted.

It almost worked for Jim Rhodes. He nearly made up the 8% on that single act of bloody bluster. On May 5, 940,000 votes were cast in the Republican primary. Rhodes lost by only 5,270.‡‡‡‡‡

Sources:

* Nick Turse, “A My Lai a Month,” The Nation, November 13, 2008 (online).

† New York Times, May 2, 1970, p. 1-A.

 Milwaukee Journal, April 29, 1970, Part 1, p. 1; see also St. Petersburg Times, April 29, 1970, p. 1.

** Richard G. Zimmerman, Plain Dealing: Ohio Politics and Journalism Viewed from the Press Gallery (Kent State University Press: 2006), p. 44. [“Plain Dealing”]

†† Carl B. Stokes, Promises of Power: A Political Autobiography  (NY: Simon & Schuster: 1973), p. 66.

‡‡ David Hess, “Rhodes bid for Senate seat stirs storm of questions,” Christian Science Monitor, November 8, 1969, p. 16. [“Hess”]

  *** Richard G. Zimmerman, “Rhodes’s First Eight Years, 1963-1971,” in Alexander P. Lamis & Mary Anne Sharkey (eds.), Ohio Politics (Kent State University Press 1994), pp. 78-79. [“Zimmerman”]

††† See Hess, above.

‡‡‡ Joseph Kraft, “Taft vs. Rhodes in Ohio Battle,” Modesto Bee, May 1, 1970, p. A 16.

**** Andy Cota, “Neither Rhodes, Taft Triumphant in First Debate,” Toledo Blade, April 22, 1970, p. 3.

†††† Plain Dealing, p. 45.

‡‡‡‡ Milwaukee Journal, May 5, 1970, Part 1, p. 2.

***** Zimmerman, p. 80.

††††† Scott L. Bills, Kent State/May 4: Echoes Through a Decade, Kent, Ohio: The (Kent State University Press: 1988), p. 13

‡‡‡‡‡ Zimmerman, p. 81.

Advertisements
  1. No trackbacks yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s