NOTE: The following is an excerpt from my new book Camelot Down, targeted publishing date sometime this coming summer.
For What It Was Worth
Bad
things were happening in the world
those
fateful years of ’68 and ‘69.
What was going down wasn’t always clear
But the brief shining moment that had once been Camelot
What was going down wasn’t always clear
But the brief shining moment that had once been Camelot
was dying
midst racial prejudice, rioting and napalm bombings
Students
and protesters tried to stop the carnage, to stand their ground
But peaceful assembly and free speech were suspended
When the tear gas cleared and bodies lay bleeding all around
But peaceful assembly and free speech were suspended
When the tear gas cleared and bodies lay bleeding all around
Everybody
looked and saw what really was going down.
The
sixties were over. Camelot had died.
n the pre-dawn hours of Thursday morning, May 15, later dubbed “Bloody Thursday,” Reagan sent one hundred California Highway Patrol officers, including Paul, along with two hundred Berkeley area police, to descend upon People’s Park with orders to evict people illegally occupying the 2.8-acre plot of land. The park was located A few blocks south of the University of California campus, bounded on the east by Bowditch Street, on the south by Dwight Way, on the north by Haste Street and on the west it was a short half block from Telegraph Avenue.
Paul and 20 brother officers from his San Leandro-area office in five black and white California Highway Patrol cruisers - their 440 Magnum V-8 engines enabling them to easily exceed the state speed limit - raced eastbound on Highway 238 to Castro Valley then northbound on Highway 13 (the Warren Freeway) then eastbound again, catching Highway 24 and zipping through the Caldecott Tunnel, to Ashby Avenue near the landmark Claremont Hotel.
Paul couldn’t help but wonder what the residents of all the large stately homes lining the city streets they sped along with their lights flashing would think if they knew what was about to happen. A right turn on Shattuck Avenue, another right turn or two and they soon arrived at Telegraph Avenue where they would park their Patrol cars. Each patrol vehicle was crammed with four officers; each officer wearing full uniform with Sam Browne belt and pistol, riot helmet and flak jacket, and carrying a riot baton and gas mask. This San Leandro-area contingent would meet up with another eighty of their comrades gathering from Oakland, San Francisco, San Jose and other CHP commands.
Dousing their emergency lights as they approached their destination the five CHP cars, one of them driven by Paul, pulled up to the curb and lined up beside the other CHP cars stretched out along Telegraph Avenue. The sun was just coming up over the east Berkeley hills.
Paul wondered briefly if Christie had risen yet. When he kissed her goodbye she was still sleepily snuggled under the bed covers. If Christie wasn’t awake his new black lab puppy Charley would probably wake her up pretty soon. Though his relationship with Christie had become somewhat strained they were still together.
“When are we supposed to go in?” Crane asked.
“Pretty soon I guess. This pre-dawn light isn’t quite light enough yet.”
“I can make out a few tents,” Miller said. “And it looks like there’s at least one fire going already.”
“Hope they’ve put coffee on for us,” Warren joked.
“We shoulda’ brought donuts,” Paul laughed. “To bad that Dunkin’ Donuts we passed didn’t have a drive-through window.”
At 4.20 a.m. a call came in on the car radio, “Lock your vehicles and everybody line up on the sidewalk. Make sure you’re wearing your helmets and you have your riot batons handy. We will politely ask people in the Park to leave. If someone refuses to leave, remember that you are only authorized by law to use reasonable force to remove them. If you can’t get someone to leave, buddy up with a fellow officer for assistance. You are not, under any circumstances, authorized to use deadly force unless you are directly attacked with deadly force.”
Paul and 20 brother officers from his San Leandro-area office in five black and white California Highway Patrol cruisers - their 440 Magnum V-8 engines enabling them to easily exceed the state speed limit - raced eastbound on Highway 238 to Castro Valley then northbound on Highway 13 (the Warren Freeway) then eastbound again, catching Highway 24 and zipping through the Caldecott Tunnel, to Ashby Avenue near the landmark Claremont Hotel.
Paul couldn’t help but wonder what the residents of all the large stately homes lining the city streets they sped along with their lights flashing would think if they knew what was about to happen. A right turn on Shattuck Avenue, another right turn or two and they soon arrived at Telegraph Avenue where they would park their Patrol cars. Each patrol vehicle was crammed with four officers; each officer wearing full uniform with Sam Browne belt and pistol, riot helmet and flak jacket, and carrying a riot baton and gas mask. This San Leandro-area contingent would meet up with another eighty of their comrades gathering from Oakland, San Francisco, San Jose and other CHP commands.
Dousing their emergency lights as they approached their destination the five CHP cars, one of them driven by Paul, pulled up to the curb and lined up beside the other CHP cars stretched out along Telegraph Avenue. The sun was just coming up over the east Berkeley hills.
Paul wondered briefly if Christie had risen yet. When he kissed her goodbye she was still sleepily snuggled under the bed covers. If Christie wasn’t awake his new black lab puppy Charley would probably wake her up pretty soon. Though his relationship with Christie had become somewhat strained they were still together.
“When are we supposed to go in?” Crane asked.
“Pretty soon I guess. This pre-dawn light isn’t quite light enough yet.”
“I can make out a few tents,” Miller said. “And it looks like there’s at least one fire going already.”
“Hope they’ve put coffee on for us,” Warren joked.
“We shoulda’ brought donuts,” Paul laughed. “To bad that Dunkin’ Donuts we passed didn’t have a drive-through window.”
At 4.20 a.m. a call came in on the car radio, “Lock your vehicles and everybody line up on the sidewalk. Make sure you’re wearing your helmets and you have your riot batons handy. We will politely ask people in the Park to leave. If someone refuses to leave, remember that you are only authorized by law to use reasonable force to remove them. If you can’t get someone to leave, buddy up with a fellow officer for assistance. You are not, under any circumstances, authorized to use deadly force unless you are directly attacked with deadly force.”
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