所有来源 > Manitou Messenger (DA-MM) > The Manitou Messenger (1916-2014) > 1969 > No. 20, Vol. 82
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Article TitleMoratorium in Minneapolis
Author(s)MIKE KRUEGER
SourceThe Manitou Messenger (1916-2014),  No. 20,  Vol.082, 十一月  17, 1969, page(s): 3
Place of PublicationNorthfield, United States
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Words706
Persistent URLhttps://stolaf.eastview.com/browse/doc/45287530

Moratorium in Minneapolis

Author: MIKE KRUEGER

We bombed up to the Cities on Moratorium Thursday, but found little action. A couple of good speakers, some good times, but nothing unusual. No head cracking or tear-gas; we even missed Papa Groppi, who spoke on the other side of town while we itched thru 2 hrs. of speakers at the Auditorium.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. The first thing was

1. Rally at the You

We made it up to the You of Em in time to hear a couple of lousy speakers, wander thru the corridors of Northrop Auditorium, and stand outside in the —16 wind chill weather waiting to be told what to do.

There we were, the Free People, the cream of the radical-action movement, waiting to be told what to do. God. If they're pigs, we're sheep.

2. Marching Thru Minneapolis

They told us to march, so we marched. About ten of us from Carleton linked arms and had a parade. Wheel The crowd was pretty large — 2,000? 5,000? It's hard to tell when it's snowing.

"Wuddayawant?"

"Peace!"

"Whendayawannit?"

"Now!"

"Wuduyuwann?"

"Peace!"

"Wedayahwadit?"

"Now!"

"Peace! Now!"

"Peace! Now! Peace! Now! Peace! Now! Peace! Now! Peace!..."

Big deal.

3. The Old Federal Building

Finally we reached our destination: the Old Federal Building. Sang a few songs, cheered some more, sang some more. "Sing it like you mean it!" shrieked some feisty bitch periodically from the back row.

Then they (who are 'they'? The SMC? SDS? CIA? Who knows?) had us march in circles around the building. This was definitely not where it was at. People drifted off. So did we.

And guess where we—and just about every other goddamn Carle- ton student up there—found ourselves two minutes later?

4. The Library, for chrissake

All milling around the public library like a bunch of country hicks in a Chicago Sears-Roebuck. I never saw anything so dumb in my life. You go to the trouble of coming all the way up to the Cits for the Moratorium, and what do you do? Book? Jesus.

5. Tick-dick

Some of us wandered around the Mall, some of us (like me) just grabbed a bus over to the Twin Cities Draft Information Center (TICK-DICK). I sat around the office, rapping and reading stuff. I went downstairs to the Liberty House and bought my sister a beautiful suede handbag. I got a copy of Woodstock Nation and Fritz the Cat at a bookstore down the street.

6. The Nickelette Maul

We had agreed to meet at 8th & Nicollet at 5:00, and meet we did. Most of the group had been charging around the Mall all day, and were feeling no pain. We had a parade down the street, enjoying the uncomfortable stares of the straights. (They're really quite a show, you know.)

There were about 20 of us that piled into this little grill and monopolized the counter. The food, which was horrible, quieted us down a bit. Afterwards we broke up and headed our own ways. We didn't meet up again until

7. The Speeches at the Auditorium

What we should have done was to have gone over to hear Groppi at the You. But we weren't sure he'd be there, so we played it safe and went to the Minneapolis Auditorium to wait a half-an-hour for ten speakers to bore us for another hour and a half.

But there were two Good Things:

1) A draft card turn-in ceremony, with about twenty guys participating. One guy even turned in his uniform—they used his hat to collect money later.

2) A guy named something like Manfred Stannis, a German student, who gave a solid analysis of the alliances between the power elites in America and Europe, and an engrossing personal account of the development of the student protest movement in Europe.

Basically, he was just a fascinating guy. We got his address so we can maybe get him down to Carleton to talk.

So that was the Moratorium in the Cities. We didn't end the war; we weren't particularly grim or determined or 'moral' most of the time —we enjoyed ourselves. So Wuddayawant?

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