Heady Days

The late sixties was an unusual time! Young men were going off to war while others protested in the streets. War protests happened on the University of Iowa campus. There were a few small demonstrations at Iowa Wesleyan. At the same time African Americans were demanding fair treatment and equal opportunity. The drug culture flourished and hippies grew long hair and wore strange clothing. Becky and I really didn’t get into those things but knew many who did. We didn’t get into drugs either but saw them take over the lives of some.

I was a member of the Henry County Rescue Squad that was turned into the Police Reserve. We trained with Sergeant Roy Eubanks of the Iowa Highway Patrol. He trained us in defense techniques in hand-to-hand combat and with the baton. We were transformed into a Riot Squad with the black helmets, mace, shields and the baton. The baton was a 20-inch long club. I still have it.

The fear was that the unrest at Iowa Wesleyan would get out of control so we were trained to be mobilized if that were to occur. This was a lot more than I had bargained for and it made me very uncomfortable. Rescuing someone was quite a bit different than clubbing one of my friends on campus.

Then on the evening of April 4, 1968, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr was assassinated. He had been standing on the balcony of a motel in Memphis when James Earl Ray shot him. The irony of it wasn’t lost. A man who had devoted his life to equality and peace died a victim of horrendous violence. Immediately people began to wonder whether this would spark further violence. There were riots in some places but many who followed Reverend King kept to his precepts of non-violence.

Locally, we wondered how you could hate or fear someone so much that you would resort to killing him or her. We lived in a sheltered and safe world and couldn’t imagine what this killer was thinking. The police reserve was placed on alert for a short time but were never called out.

Then on the 5th of June 1968, 12:15am, Senator Robert F. Kennedy was assassinated after winning the California presidential primary. He was shot by a Palestinian Arab, Sirhan Sirhan who also shot and wounded five others. Sirhan is still in prison in California. Kennedy had been a popular candidate and now had met the same fate as his brother.

Two murders of national figures in less than three months made everyone anxious. We wondered what would happen next. The war, civil rights, the draft were heavy on the minds of most people in those days.

That summer a local African American boy who had served in Viet Nam was denied entrance to the local American Legion Club. A small protest was set up in front of the club, which was kitty corner from City Hall. The Police Reserve was mobilized. We entered the City Hall and gathered in a second floor office area. In the room there were about 20 police reserve members, the Chief of Police and four policemen, the County Sheriff and two deputies, and seven highway patrolmen. We could see the demonstrators, mostly white friends of mine, through the blinds.

Several in the room thought we should march on the group and force them to disperse. The mayor arrived and, after an animated discussion with the commanding Sergeant of the highway patrol, cooler heads prevailed. It ended simply by the Sergeant walking by himself out into the street and asking the protestors to leave. After some discussion they did and we all went home. I was relieved that it was settled so peacefully.