Seventy-Sixth Year
EDITED AND MANAGED BY STUDENTS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
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Stokely: 'Don't You Let 'em Shame You'
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Editorials printed in The Michigan Daily express the individual opinions of staff writers
or the editors. This must be noted in all reprints.
FRIDAY, JULY 14, 1967
NIGHT EDITOR: BETSY TURNER
I
Professions Conference
To Prove Stimulating
HE CONFERENCE on Radicals in the
Professions, being held here this week-
end, is a positive, action-oriented move
and one which could, if imitated and in-
tensified in the future, supply a back-
bone for the New Left.'
The conference begins its plenary ses-
sion today at 9:30 in Room 3-RS of the
Union and will continue workshops
throughout the weekend. It is open to
anyone interested in radical action and
promises to draw a variety of profession-
als, non-professional radicals, students
and observers.
Dick Magidoff, one of the coordinators
of the conference, has designed an agen-
da which deals with both the overall
"ideological" questions bothering radical
professionals, and those in specific fields.
Each general workshop - dealing with
basic concepts-has been provided a dis-
cussion leader ticketed to stimulate dis-
cussion and keep the group moving
through the massive agenda.
HOW TO AVOID the effects of conserv-
atism, conformity and the dilemma
of a career are just a few areas to be
covered.
Another question on the agenda is,
"how can a radical accept the framework
of a "consumption-oriented American so-
ciety?" This promises to draw consider-
able reaction since in many ways, it is
the focal point of the ever-increasing
rift in the New Left.
The rift often occurs because profes-
sionals within the society and alienat-
ed radicals working in projects not con-
nected with the society structure, present
their respective positions through sec-
ondary sources without personal contacts
with each other.
THESE SESSIONS, it is hoped, will
"bring people working in independent
situations, such as underground news-
paper and experimental schools, in con-
tact with those working in more orthodox
or established frameworks."
Single profession workshops-centered
around individual interest areas--will al-
so begin tomorrow and continue as long
as time and interest permits.
Workshops in law, health, education,
journalism and social work have already
been set up. Printed materials concern-
ing these areas will be provided.
The highlight of the conference, Magi-
doff commented, "is the emphasis on
evaluating the effects of concrete ex-
periences and proposals people bring con-
cerning attempts to be 'radical in their
professions'."
The conference provides a "problem-
solving orientation" and also a structure
where people can begin to work effec-
tively toward that end.
THE PLANNING of this conference by
the coordinators was done with effi-
ciency. Unlike many other radical func-
tions which somehow just don't accom-
plish anything, the Radical Professionals
Conference promises to provide a discus-
sion arena and perhaps, as a result, the
initial formulation of some concrete proj-
ects around the country.
This conference is well worth attend-
ing.
-BETSY TURNER
By GERALD BRUCK
Collegiate Press Service
(First of Two Parts)
NEW HAVEN, Conn. - I first
met Stokely Carichael in Lown-
des County, Alabama, last March.
Do not mistake me: I don't pre-
tend that we're friends. I doubt
if he saw me when we shook
hands back thenand when I
tried to ask him some questions
during his visit to Yale several
weeks ago, his secretary stepped
in to tell me, "If you wish an in-
terview with Mr. Carmichael, you
may apply through our national
office in Atlanta."
Several hundred black residents
of Lowndes had journeyed by car
and foot to the Mount Moriah
Church. It was the first anniver-
sary of the Lowndes County Free-
dom Organization, a county-wide
third party known to the national
press by its symbol, the black
panther
AT LAST, it was Carmichael's
tur'n to speak. "There's some 'ed-
ucated' Negroes," he said, "and
that means they've been to school
and they've been taught what to
think-that's what it means.
"They say our party is not go-
ing to go anywhere 'cause there's'
only two parties in this country,
the Republican Party and the
Democratic Party. They say the
Democratic Party is the way
we're gonna be free.
"Let's talk about that," he said.
There were "crackers" (white
racists) in the Democratic Party;
that was the way it had been since
the beginning, and that's the way
it would stay."And they ask us to
change it," he said scornfully.
"Did they ask Jews to get into
the Nazi party and change it?
"The Republican Party," he
cried, "runs candidates in every
office, and the Democratic Party
runs candidates in every office
'cause they want the power. And
we're gonna run candidates in
every office 'cause we want the
power!
"That's right," he called back
to his cheering audience, "we
want the power!"
"And unless we get the power.
we're gonna be like Julian Bond,
invited to speak across the coun-
try, to speak to other Negroes,
but we can't represent ourselves.
"DON'T BE afraid, 'cause you're
black and nappy-headed and got
a broad nose, that you can't han-
dle power. Don't you let 'em
shame you!
"Don't you ever talk about any-
thing all black is bad, 'cause
you're hating yourself. We're
gonna find the blackest, most
nappy-headed nigger and make
him sheriff, just to spite the white
folk.
"We're gonna do it. Sure 'nuff,
that's what we gotta do. We're
tired of being ashamed of our-
selves
"We goota be in those news
pictures so my children can look
at another Negro and say, 'Now
he is somebody!' I want a black
sheriff in this county so our kids
can look at him and say, 'Some
day I'm gonna be sheriff!'
''Now if you're 'shamed of
power, if you're 'shamed to con-
From now on, we're rolling over
people who won't get out of our
way. Don't stop us, just get out
haps I would be willing to die for
some great principle, but certainly
not for a term paper, and so I set
out instead for Atlanta, to find
out about Julian Bond.
JULIAN BONID twice had been
elected to the Georgia House of
Representatives, and twice de-
nied his seat by Georgia legisla-
tors. Bond himself does not look
like a member of SNCC (and he
no longer is). The white noder-
ates of Georgia admire his "ivy-
league" look, and they like the
fact that he wears a tie. He is an
anthologized poet, and that's nice,
they say.
He is quiet, courteous, poised,
relaxed, and has a clear, sharp
intelligence that baffles leis critics
whenever they are forced to con-
front it. The New York Times de-
scribed him as "easily the most
articulate" of the representatives-
elect.
He was elected by black people
in a trujy "grass-roots campaign."
He was denied his seat because
he agreed withea SNCC statement
condemning the war in Vietnam.
While Bond minces fio words.
and endorses Carmichael's stand
on black power, he represents the
earlier years of SNCC. He was a
leader of the Atlanta restaurant
sit-ins. He seems, in manner and
disposition, ideally suited for the
reformer role. He operated within
the existing political framework,
running for a Georgia House seat
on the Democratic ticket.
Not only was he denied his seat,
but people refused to listen to
him. Rural legislators referred to
him-in public at least-as the
"infamous Mr. Bond." With celes-
tial irony, Georgia's lawmakers
spurned the one spokesman for
the increasing militancy of black
people who would talk to them
politely.
Now they will have to reckon
with Mr. Carmichael.
of our way. Black, white, indiffer-
ent, we're rolling over you."
The people in the church
cheered,
"You tell 'em I said so. You tell
'em I'm gonna take the power
and use it like it should have been
used."
BY THE END of this speech, I
was standing outside of the
church, holding the microphone
of my little tape recorder close to
the loud speaker that carried his
voice for those who couldn't
squeeze inside.
Some old Negro men stood near-
by, and they smiled at Carmi-
chael's comments about being
proud of being black and they
laughed with glee when he told
about the power they were going
to get, and how they were going
to set'their mastersstraight.
I was holding the microphone
because I was a reporter, and I
gave the old men sort of an em-
barrassed smile, because I was
white.
MY DESK IS cluttered with
articles by and about Carmichael.
I have 20 hours of tapes of SNCC
people talking about civil rights
and SNCC. I have piles of news-
papers' clippings, documents of
one sort or another, and stories
and anecdotes to tell.
Perhaps at another time and
place, I should have been pre-
pared to make some kind of
Pronouncement on Black Power.
But now I feel differently. '
CARMICHAEL'S Lowndes
County talk can be an example
of anything you wish it to be. If
members of the press had attend-
ed, they would have termed it the
speech of a racist. To me, it did
not seem so.
But I am an outsider.
He was speaking to black people
about matters which directly con-
trol, now you better step back.
Shucking and jiving time is over.
cerned their everyday lives. He
and the people he had worked
with for a year, in an atmosphere
of tremendous fear, had their
own language. I cannot pretend
to understand it,
Most basically, I cannot pre-
tend to understand the feelings of read about in the papers, I tastaid
the people in Lowndes County. the fear, a little of the frustra-
How can I say that Carmichael tion, some of the love, and I liked
was speaking for them, or for the excitement.
what they "should" believe? So I did what a good Yalie
I feel that Carmichael is right,
and I believe the things he says.
But for me to argue for Black
Power as a disinterested observer,
for me to present "all sides" of
the story and "document" my case
would be dishonest
I simply feel that I should own
up. My experience comes from a
white world, and it is from my
setting that I must put forward
my case.
The civil rights struggle em-
barrassed me when I was a fresh-
man. It was far from me, and I
didn't care to think about it.
In that spring, stories from
Selma began to fill the news-
papers, and one rainy day, as I
walked through the mud of the
Old Campus, I realized how des-
perately I wanted to get away
from Yale. I decided that it was
time to "see something" for my-
self. So I bought a notepad, bor-
rowed some money and set out for
Selma.
I did not go as a freedom
fighter. I went as a reporter.
Armed with a Yale Daily News
press card and indefatigable abil-
ity to compromise myself, I set
out to learn.
I WORMED my way into cur-
ious places. I talked to Sheriff
Clarke in his office, was treated
to an endless series of comments
by his secretary about "that
sassy nigger" who "came in here
and said we weren't protecting
him," and I convinced the good
sheriff that, as an objective
Yankee, I had a right to a press
card.
I talked to leaders of the
march, to the Northern agitators,
to "community people." I got free
coffee from the black church,
and on one occasion bummed a
cigarette from a state trooper.
On one particular night, I ducked
rocks thrown by white people
froma passing car and soon after
was threatened with extinction
by a group of black kids.
Chalk it up to "educational ex-
perience." I saw the hatred I had
should. I returned and took
courses about the South, read
books and articles, wrote papers,
and otherwise gained "back-
ground."
Last spring, I ventured forth
again. At first I planned to spend
s p r i n g vacation in Lowndes
County, observing local customs
and Stokely Carmichael.
It was a stupid idea.
Lowndes County is a dangerous
place; I would have had trouble
surviving. What reason was there
for Carmichael,. who risked his
life there daily, to tolerate a white
term-paper writer following on
his trail? I told myself that per-
9
Violence: American. Way of Life
HAT ONE SUSPECTED he could not
hide, betray, avoid or ignore-viol-
ence-he is suddenly accepting into his
life like a prodigal portion of his spir-
it. Out come the whips and chains,
leather and iron, either those of the
symbolic media or the real items, al-
most with the ease of an American fad.
This time, however, the fad is pain and
exploitation, states of life worse than
death. It is as though the addage of
cartoonist Edward Gorey who black-
inks- the evil side of the Gay Nineties,
was being stressed again and again:
"Whost most you fear is coming near."
The usual sources of protest have
been silent: anti-smut lobbies aren't
trying to scour the news stands, critics
of television as a vast wasteland are
learning to enjoy the natural splendor
of the video desert. More important,
anti-war protest has diminished in
quantity, since General William West-
moreland's congressional appearance,
although the protest which continued
has a new sense of urgency and has
been accompanied by bloody anti-pro-
testing. The brains of others not so in-
volved are being soothed by violent
missiles from all fronts: politics, art,
sports, perhaps not religion. Police sta-
tistics indicate more and more people
each year are partaking of violence,
either as the violent or as their vic-
tims, and everyone else enjoys the
violence vicariously as the bulk of the
Tnews broadcasts by the media.
During the Fifties which of course
followed the surreal carnage years of
World War II it appeared as though
Herman Hesse's observation was cor-
rect, that "peace and orderliness, quiet
and a good conscience, forgiveness and
love, rule in ... one realm and ... the
rest exists too, the multitude of harsh
noises, of sullenness and violence, from
which one could still escape . . ." In
those days, if Americans weren't buy-
ing racial integration as a way of life,
at least the cause was crystal pure.
Progressive jazz was warm and lyri-
cal, the Korean War eventually ended
and professional baseball wasn't near-
ly as dull as it seems today.
But some time since then, the dis-
tinction between realms became blur-
red and the harsher realm became
more commanding. "G u n s m o k e"
brought slaughter to the saccharine
a taste for violence began to domin-
ate social political, artistic, athletic
and perhaps not religious but just
about every other area of style.
BUT PERHAPS during this summer
the trend is reaching a peak of pop-
ularity.
In a single July issue in which it
presents awards to corporations for
service to the fine arts, Esquire devotes
a special section to pondering, "Why
are we suddenly obsessed with viol-
ence?" As could be anticipated from
the rhetoric of the question, Esquire
has no profound answers, but it pro-
vides a scrapbook of ghastly newspho-
tos.
-If dolls had been for girls and guns
for boys, traditionally, GI Joe dolls hit
the market not long ago to amuse a
sort of compromise neuter moppet who
wants to be in the action.
-Norman Mailer's books make ex-
ploitation look like cosmopolitan
drudgery; "In Cold Blood" made mur-
der a best-seller. "The Story of O" both
as a novel case study and as a parable,
explained what life is really about -
namely exploitation and the bag of
sadistic-masochistic behavior. To carry
the thrust of the civil rights move-
ment after we never really overcame,
a ride on the classic "Dutchman" sub-
way of LeRoi Jones.
-The Chicago Blackhawks gained
fame and professional superiority by
bringing an alley fighting style to the
hockey rink. There have been several
deaths in boxing, and perhaps Liston's
alleged police record went over better
with fans than Ali's declaration of
Muslim faith, although to the public
both figures were veiled in violence.
In soccer, a dozing crowd surged with
spirit at the end of the last Detroit
Cougar home game when the Cleveland
opposition goaltender fell with a pain-
ful shoulder separation during a rou-
tine save.
IN THE SIXTIES, the movies provid-
ed the view from 007's gun as well
as the view into the weapon. In the
more real world, assassinations, mass
slayings and localized warfare: rifles,
firebombs and punji sticks. Following
the style of the movies, television news
TRA N VAN DINH
Big Minh' and Fixed
Election in Vietnam
On July 1, the South Vietnam Constituent Assembly approved
17 tickets for the September 3 presidential elections. Some of the
tickets have only a decorative value, some are there just to provide
a sense of humor to the sad state' of politics and the war weariness
in South Vietnam. Such is the case of candidate Nguyen Dinh Quat,
a millionnaire who made his fortune during the First Indochinese War
(1945-1954). When asked why he had chosen a water buffalo as his
election symbol-the same as another candidate, Mr. Phan Khac Suu-
he replied: "Mr. Suu's buffalo is male, mine is female." Probably Mr.
Quat would have to spend a fortune educating the Vietnamese voters
on animals' anatomy, especially buffalos'. Not a bad way at all of
educating his countrymen.
The most important candidates are:
" Lt. General Nguyen Van Thieu, 44, a Roman Catholic, presently
Chief of State. His running mate: Vice Air Marshal Nguyen Cao
Ky, 36, presently Prime Minister and Air Force Commander.
0 Mr. Phan Khac Suu, 63, former head of state, presently President
of the Constituent Assembly. His running mate: Dr. Phan Quang
Dan, 49, a Saigon pediatrician.
" Mr. Than Van Huong, 63, former Mayor of Saigon and Prime Min-
ister. His running mate: Mr. Mai Tho Truyen, 62, a retired civil
servant and a distinguished Buddhist scholar.
" Lieutenant General Duong Van Minh, 51, former Chief of State, a
Buddhist, now in exile in Bangkok, Thailand. His running mate:
Tran Ngoc Lieng, a lawyer and former Cabinet Minister.
IF THE SEPTEMBER 3 elections. are conducted in a relatively
fair and free manner-although neither the past nor the present con-
ditions make me feel optimistic that it will be-then I believe General
Duong Van Minh would be elected. The principal architect of the over-
throw of President Ngo Dinh Diem in November 1963, General Minh
is popular among the Armed Forces officers of South Vietnam, among
the Buddhists whose votes are decisive in a country where 80 per cent
are Buddhists. Unlike Thieu and Ky, who ruthlessly suppressed the
Buddhists, Minh recognizes the importance of the Buddhist role in
the building of the Vietnamese nation. He has the reputation of frank-
ness, integrity and honesty which neither Thieu nor Ky enjoy. He is
affectionately nicknamed "Big Minh" not only because of his height
(just short of 6 feet, unusual for a Vietnamese) but also to avoid the
confusion with another much shorter general, Tran Van Minh, now
Saigon Ambassador in Tunisia. In January 1964, "Big Minh" was ousted
by a coup d'etat led by General Nguyen Khanh (now in exile in Paris)
and was named roving ambassador based in Bangkok, Thailand. He
did not like that decorative position and wanted to go back to live
with his people in Vietnam.
In May 1965, he attempted to return to Saigon but his plane was
forced to goback to Thailand. When he filed his candidacy with the
Constituent Assembly, his ticket received 72 of the 85 Assembly votes,
10 more than Thieu-Ky team. Given the tremendous pressures and the
continuing threats imposed on the Assembly by General Ky and his
Chief of Police, General Nguyen Ngoc Loan, this vote was indeed very
significant and a sure indication of General Minh's popularity. It is
also a credit to the courage of the Assemblymen. Despite the Assembly
vote, General Minh is now prevented from returning to his homeland.
This is sadly ironic, especially when the U.S. Embassy in Saigon and the
Saigon government promise-and deliver-safety and good positions
to the Vietcong returnees. It is also possible that the Saigon govern-
ment-controlled Central Election Committee which has the final voice
in the approval of candidates (to be decided on July 15) will reject
his candidacy. General Nguyen Ngoc Loan, the Chief of Police can
fabricate a dossier on General Duong Van Minh and declare him a
security risk.
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