I worked on the West side of Chicago at that time, and had worked late that day. I would catch a bus from work into the loop and then walk to the train station to catch the train home. The gas drifted into us, the pedestrians, on the Madison street bridge over the Chicago River.
At least in the ’60s, all of the agitators were legit. This time around, everyone is cosplaying, hired via Craig’s List, undercover Daily Show correspondents, or otherwise playing the collective fool.
Just snarkin’, as usual. I wouldn’t be surprised to see some “black bloc” types pop out of some larger group(s) to act the fool, though. Nothing the cops/press love flogging more than the fabled “outside agitators.”
I’ll have to read that Thompson post in its entirety but it is still cool enough outside to walk the dog.
Yep, I was only 14 then so not on the front lines of trouble. I do recall watching it all on TV. Was it Walter Cronkite or Chet Huntley and David Brinkley. I don’t recall if it was Ch. 2 or Ch 4 (NBC and CBS in Buffalo) but I recall it was pretty bad.
I worried that an open convention this time would be a circular firing squad, even though I wanted an open convention (but not a circular firing squad). We got the fait accompli instead.
Noted, SteveO. A friend of mine in these parts refers to the heroes who tore down the Obelisk in the Santa Fe plaza as “Trust Fund Anarchists”.
I was a sophomore at Mitchell “High” School and just getting interested in the (ahem) “counterculture.” My gradual transmutation from suburban drone to hairy nuisance took place over the next couple years as it dawned on me that The Authorities wanted to send me to the other side of the world to exchange gunfire with foreigners I wasn’t even mad at. I thought it might make more sense to stay home and shoot at The Authorities.
Speaking of John Prine and Chicago, Kris Kristofferson wrote the liner notes to the self-titled 1971 album that contains “Your Flag Decal Won’t Get You into Heaven Anymore.” Here they are:
John Prine caught us by surprise in the late-night morning let-down after our last show in Chicago. Steve Goodman (who’d shared the bill with us that week) asked us to go to Old Town to listen to a friend he said we had to hear, and since Steve had knocked us out all week with his own songs, we obliged.
It was too damned late, and we had an early wake-up ahead of us, and by the time we got there Old town was nothing but empty streets and dark windows. And the club was closing. But the owner let us come in, pulled some chairs off a couple of tables, and John unpacked his guitar and got back up to sing.
There are few things as depressing to look at as a bunch of chairs upside down on the table of an empty old tavern, and there was that awkward moment, us sitting there like, “Okay, kid, show us what you got,” and him standing up there alone, looking down at his guitar like, “What the hell are we doing here, buddy?” Then he started singing, and by the end of the first line we knew we were hearing something else. It must’ve been like stumbling onto Dylan when he first busted onto the Village scene (in fact Al Aronowitz said the same thing a few weeks later after hearing John do a guest set at the Bitter End). One of those rare, great times when it all seems worth it,, like when the Vision would rise upon Blake’s “weary eyes, Even in this Dungeon, & this Iron Mill.”
He sang about a dozen songs, and had to do a dozen more before it was over. Unlike anything I’d heard before.
Sam Stone, Donald & Lydia. The one about the Old Folks. Twenty-four years old and writes like he’s about two-hundred and twenty. I don’t know where he comes from, but I’ve got a good idea where he’s going. We went away believers, reminded how goddamned good it feels to be turned on by a real Creative Imagination.
“Fear and Loathing: On the Campaign Trail 1972” remains a must-read for anyone interested in presidential-campaign politics. The Good Doktor at his best, before he spiraled down the loo of his own public persona.
Mad Blog Media 
Walking through a tear gas cloud trying to get to the Union train station comes to mind.
If I remember correctly, the gas was so ever-present that it even got to Hubert Humphrey in his hotel room.
I worked on the West side of Chicago at that time, and had worked late that day. I would catch a bus from work into the loop and then walk to the train station to catch the train home. The gas drifted into us, the pedestrians, on the Madison street bridge over the Chicago River.
At least in the ’60s, all of the agitators were legit. This time around, everyone is cosplaying, hired via Craig’s List, undercover Daily Show correspondents, or otherwise playing the collective fool.
I don’t think we’ll see anything as entertaining as the Yippies nominating Pigasus.
Are you remembering or actually positing we will have riots?
Just snarkin’, as usual. I wouldn’t be surprised to see some “black bloc” types pop out of some larger group(s) to act the fool, though. Nothing the cops/press love flogging more than the fabled “outside agitators.”
I’ll have to read that Thompson post in its entirety but it is still cool enough outside to walk the dog.
Yep, I was only 14 then so not on the front lines of trouble. I do recall watching it all on TV. Was it Walter Cronkite or Chet Huntley and David Brinkley. I don’t recall if it was Ch. 2 or Ch 4 (NBC and CBS in Buffalo) but I recall it was pretty bad.
I worried that an open convention this time would be a circular firing squad, even though I wanted an open convention (but not a circular firing squad). We got the fait accompli instead.
Noted, SteveO. A friend of mine in these parts refers to the heroes who tore down the Obelisk in the Santa Fe plaza as “Trust Fund Anarchists”.
I was a sophomore at Mitchell “High” School and just getting interested in the (ahem) “counterculture.” My gradual transmutation from suburban drone to hairy nuisance took place over the next couple years as it dawned on me that The Authorities wanted to send me to the other side of the world to exchange gunfire with foreigners I wasn’t even mad at. I thought it might make more sense to stay home and shoot at The Authorities.
Ah, yes. Shall we play Kill for Peace or The Fish Cheer?
Imagine trying to pull off a stunt like that in today’s world.
Man, there’s a whole lotta dawgs from them days that couldn’t get off the leash in these ones.
But, Prine wrote about that. Really fits today.
Speaking of John Prine and Chicago, Kris Kristofferson wrote the liner notes to the self-titled 1971 album that contains “Your Flag Decal Won’t Get You into Heaven Anymore.” Here they are:
Quite the HST piece. I didn’t pay to read more, though.
“Fear and Loathing: On the Campaign Trail 1972” remains a must-read for anyone interested in presidential-campaign politics. The Good Doktor at his best, before he spiraled down the loo of his own public persona.