What do you remember about college? My memories include a whiff of tear gas and the Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young recording of “Ohio”; being sent home to complete the spring quarter by correspondence; and the Ohio National Guard arriving at Kent State to contain a Vietnam protest.
Yes, I went to Kent State University, and Tuesday, May 4, will be the 50th anniversary of the Kent State demonstrations and shootings and a protracted period of protest throughout the nation. I never expected my college days would include such memories.
In 1969, I attended the Stark regional campus of Kent State and was vice president of the student body. In transferring to the central campus, I stayed involved with student government and landed a work-study position with the university’s community relations office. I was sort of in the thick of things. To top it off, I had lived in Johnson Hall overlooking the commons area, and I was a volunteer for the center of campus unrest. My senior year, I accepted a position with the Committee to Re-Elect the President.
For this campus, it all began on April 30, when President Richard Nixon announced he was sending U.S. troops into Cambodia to cut the Viet Cong supply line through that small Southeast Asia country. On May 1, a weekend of student protests began with a copy of the United States Constitution being buried on the commons at noon. Five hundred students showed up.
[sc:text-divider text-divider-title=”Story continues below gallery” ]
At 3 p.m. the same day, the Black United Students group held a protest over the Oakland Police Department in California — which had been embroiled in controversy over the fatal shooting of a member of the Black Panthers — being allowed to recruit on campus 18 months earlier. This rally called for the firing or killing of all racist deans, professors, coaches and university presidents. Only 47 people appeared at this event.
Late on Friday night, May 1, at 11:15 on Water Street, an area concentrated with bars, the protests continued. It was a hot and humid evening, and people left the establishments and congregated on Water Street. As the crowd grew larger, they began to shout and dance, yelling “1-2-3-4 WE DON’T WANT YOUR F—–G WAR!”
The agitation progressed further when three cars were pushed into the center of the street and set on fire. At that point, the crowd began throwing rocks at downtown shop windows. The unrest continued until 2 a.m. The Kent City Police and the Portage County Sheriff drove the students back with tear gas.
The mayor of Kent closed the bars, and a curfew was declared in the community.
On May 3, the students were confined to campus. At 8 p.m., the protest continued when the ROTC (Reserve Officer Training Corps) Building was torched by protesters and destroyed. At this point, tear gas was a fired into the crowd, and the National Guard appeared for the first time on campus to restore order.
Now, the Ohio National Guard, like other National Guard units, is a citizen army meant to defend our country and goes back to the days of Lexington and Concord. The Ohio National Guard served with distinction in the War of 1812, the Mexican-American War, the Civil War, World War I and in World War II throughout the South Pacific. Fifty years ago, on May 4, 1970, that same Guard got into a life-and-death struggle with antiwar demonstrators that ended with the death of four students on the Kent campus. The university was closed for the remainder of the school year.
Just this year, I read “Kent State” by James Michener, written in 1971, and found it somewhat fictional. Rumors about that day abound. Some say it was the radical group Weatherman or outsiders who caused the violence. Others tell that local and Ohio politicians were attempting to make a name for themselves. Still others say the Ohio Guard wasn’t properly trained. Some blame Nixon. But who knows? Maybe like other historical events, it is too complex to be written about by the participants. More time needs to pass for objectivity.
I later gave testimony to an Ohio legislative committee on campus unrest and served on the university’s commission for nonviolence.
When I went home to the farm, my father told me they should have “shot them all” and that he wouldn’t attend commencement that spring. He was a construction worker. The conversation probably happened in many families. I went on to get my master’s in education from Kent, and Dad attended commencement. I got a fine education, and I don’t regret attending KSU. Kent State and other universities, the Ohio National Guard and Vietnam were all probably destined to collide. Only time and space will sort it out. Let history decide.
Joe Skvarenina is the Hancock County historian and has written numerous books on the county’s history. Send comments to [email protected].
