From my perspective as a veteran of student protests, the activists and hangers-on among the Occupy DC groups have gotten off easy. In May 1971 I joined idealistic college students nationwide who believed “the movement” could stop the Vietnam War by showing up in the capital city. We were organized. Decades before the Internet brought us email and instant messaging, we used fliers and the phone.
The plan was simple: College students would arrive in D.C. the night before the mass march, camp in the parks or bunk with friends, arise the next morning and overwhelm the capital. We might block roads. We would march up Pennsylvania Avenue. We certainly would fill the National Mall.
Problem was, the “fuzz,” as we called cops in those days, got the fliers as well. Those of us who tried to enter the city the night before the protest were turned back. Police prevented anyone from camping in the parks or anywhere else. So much for the grand plan.
I did manage to make it into the District the next morning. Riot police greeted us with tear gas, clubs and horses. I found myself herded into Dupont Circle, loaded into a bus and carted off to the D.C. Jail, where I spent the night with my would-be protesters.
