into focus: Dr. Dennis Christian, slowly walking, panning the crowd with a large 16mm camera perched on his shoulder. He came to the end of the crowd, stopped filming, and the chanting died quicker than the end ing of a bad blind date . The only action left was a shirtless kid with long black hair who had attached himself to the fence in a crucifix position with two pairs of toy handcuffs. MJ and Maggie watched the kid as he fought his cheap bindings, and mugged in pain in a performance worthy of the valedictorian of the William Shatner School of Overacting.
“At least he seems somewhat sincere,” Mary Jean said rather insincerely.
“Yeah, sincerely nuts. ” Maggie looked down the sidewalk at a large van that had pulled up in front of the theater. “Oh goody,” she said as the back doors of the van swung open, and out came ten or twelve members of the Ashland SWAT team. The cops, looking like solders, holding their helmets, shields, and other pieces of riot gear, moved slowly and looked relaxed and pleasant, chatting among themselves like they were more concerned with the point spread of that night’s Lakers game than the prospect of any type of confrontation.
“It looks like some hysterical good citizen must have made a believable phone call downtown about the growing potential for a full-scale riot. ” Maggie winked at Mary Jean. “Do me a favor would you, dearie ? Go talk to Dennis for just a bit.”
“Do I have to?”
“Please, just for a bit, keep him busy so he doesn’t do any filming for a while.”
MJ approached the full-tenured vagabond. He seemed very pleased to see her again.
“Pretty good turnout,” MJ initiated the small talk.
“Not bad, not bad. Had to offer extra credit to my students as a little motivation, still it’s rewarding to see our youth involved in a project of benefit to the community.”
“They only seem to get excited when you have the camera on them.”
“What can I say? These are the children of the television generation. They’ve been schooled, entertained, and babysat by the boob tube. It would seem almost unnatural for them to not get some type of intrinsic gratification from the power of the lens.”
“I guess.”
“But to be truthful, you can’t beat the Japanese or the Koreans for firing up a good protest. They bring their own helmets and riot gear. They know how to do it right.”
The professor went on with a story about a recent paid sabbatical to the Orient which MJ barely listened to as she looked past Professor Christian at Maggie w ho had shuffled over into the crowd of students behind the theater . Dennis Christian talked on, but MJ became even more interested in Maggie who was now waving her arms, pointing, and presenting some type of theory in her most animated style.
Heads turned as words were whispered. Energy was spread, and suddenly the crowd began to break apart sprinting past Maggie and toward the street in a full-tilt charge not seen this side of the opening moments of an after-Xmas sale at the local mall. Just as the first swarm of bodies hit the corner of the theater in route to the front of the building, the dozen or so SWAT cops were leisurely heading to take up their position to do something or other to earn their pay, and the two groups collided in surprise and folly right there on the sidewalk where the two sides of the building met.
Bodies and equipment flew. People hit the sidewalk, and were thrown out into the street amid screams of confusion and terror. Some of the cops quickly recovered, then stood around trying to figure out what to do, but a few lapsed into violent instinctual behavior not unlike their older brethren lucky enough to stumble upon Abbie Hoffman or Tom Hayden on a warm Chicago night in the summer of ’68. The crowd kept coming and people from both sides of the confrontation continued colliding and falling, and scrambling back up to their feet as they all seemed at a loss as to which direction to flee.
The
“At least he seems somewhat sincere,” Mary Jean said rather insincerely.
“Yeah, sincerely nuts. ” Maggie looked down the sidewalk at a large van that had pulled up in front of the theater. “Oh goody,” she said as the back doors of the van swung open, and out came ten or twelve members of the Ashland SWAT team. The cops, looking like solders, holding their helmets, shields, and other pieces of riot gear, moved slowly and looked relaxed and pleasant, chatting among themselves like they were more concerned with the point spread of that night’s Lakers game than the prospect of any type of confrontation.
“It looks like some hysterical good citizen must have made a believable phone call downtown about the growing potential for a full-scale riot. ” Maggie winked at Mary Jean. “Do me a favor would you, dearie ? Go talk to Dennis for just a bit.”
“Do I have to?”
“Please, just for a bit, keep him busy so he doesn’t do any filming for a while.”
MJ approached the full-tenured vagabond. He seemed very pleased to see her again.
“Pretty good turnout,” MJ initiated the small talk.
“Not bad, not bad. Had to offer extra credit to my students as a little motivation, still it’s rewarding to see our youth involved in a project of benefit to the community.”
“They only seem to get excited when you have the camera on them.”
“What can I say? These are the children of the television generation. They’ve been schooled, entertained, and babysat by the boob tube. It would seem almost unnatural for them to not get some type of intrinsic gratification from the power of the lens.”
“I guess.”
“But to be truthful, you can’t beat the Japanese or the Koreans for firing up a good protest. They bring their own helmets and riot gear. They know how to do it right.”
The professor went on with a story about a recent paid sabbatical to the Orient which MJ barely listened to as she looked past Professor Christian at Maggie w ho had shuffled over into the crowd of students behind the theater . Dennis Christian talked on, but MJ became even more interested in Maggie who was now waving her arms, pointing, and presenting some type of theory in her most animated style.
Heads turned as words were whispered. Energy was spread, and suddenly the crowd began to break apart sprinting past Maggie and toward the street in a full-tilt charge not seen this side of the opening moments of an after-Xmas sale at the local mall. Just as the first swarm of bodies hit the corner of the theater in route to the front of the building, the dozen or so SWAT cops were leisurely heading to take up their position to do something or other to earn their pay, and the two groups collided in surprise and folly right there on the sidewalk where the two sides of the building met.
Bodies and equipment flew. People hit the sidewalk, and were thrown out into the street amid screams of confusion and terror. Some of the cops quickly recovered, then stood around trying to figure out what to do, but a few lapsed into violent instinctual behavior not unlike their older brethren lucky enough to stumble upon Abbie Hoffman or Tom Hayden on a warm Chicago night in the summer of ’68. The crowd kept coming and people from both sides of the confrontation continued colliding and falling, and scrambling back up to their feet as they all seemed at a loss as to which direction to flee.
The
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