I . --, I . I . 1 11 I I - I A'. , - I 1-l.-.,-.--.,-'., -," , --'. - .... ... . .. - I .-I -, I ,, - I - I I 1 11 1 ... I - I I I 1 1. 1-, , 1-11;-.... .., 1, x-l-I'lln" .1 x , ., --- _ ,_ ... . ....... ....... .. .... , - , _ 1-11111.1- N ; - , I.-, 1 ."-- - I p. - ., , ", " The Michigan Daily-Wednesday, Dec( Page 4-Wednesday, December 12, 1979-The Michigan Daily Radicalism sells out to fu Ann Arbor mayors of the decade: Democrat Robert Harris (1969-1971), Republican melt Alb t Whebalr 1975-19771) James Stephenson (1971-1975), Republican Louis Belcher (1977-present), and Demo- craThe yerTo oeer 2pos. ther, experimenting with roommates of the opposite sex for two weeks. Admittedly inspired by Robert Rimmer's The Harrad Experiinent, roommates were selected on a random basis. "No one is talking about sex. It's hush-hush, a sort of wait-and-see at- titude," one male participant explained at the time. The sexual barrier was broken on another front when, in 1971, the marching band's new director George Cavender said he would allow women to take to the field on Saturday afternoons, breaking the band's all-male tradition. "When a tradition denies a person his basic rights, then that tradition is made to be broken. I owe every qualified student an oppor- tunity to play in the band if he wants to," Cavender said. But the response from women was virtually non-existent for one year. "Gals aren't interested in any activity as violently physical as marching," suggested Cavender in 1972. The revival of the Greek system is one of the greatest campus comeback stories of the 70s. Sororities and fraternities faced declining member- ships during 1969 and 1970. Sorority rush par- ticipants dropped from 1,200 in 1968 to 200 in 1970. And in that year, nine houses folded. "FRATERNITIES HAVE had a tough time ex- plaining their value since students now focus on issues and actions jrather than a good time," said then Fraterntiy Council President Steve Morrison. Assistant Housing Director Robert Rorke at- tributed the closings to a lack of motivation to per- form maintenance tasks, faltering communications with alumni, and little attempt to recruit new mem- bers. But in 1971, the turn-around began. Sorority rushees numbered almost 600, and 500 men rushed fraternities. "We cut out a number of meetings and other things because the girls were being pressed with too much shit," explained Panhellenic Rush Coordinator Judy Kursman in 1971. Also that year, the Fraternity Council dropped formal registration and a requirement that rushees visit all frat houses. In 1979 the rush members were about the same.- Thirty-two fraternities and 16 sororities exist on campus today. WHILE THE Annual Lucky Streak didn't stay around for long, the Hash Bash did, symbolizing Ann Arbor's liberal attitude toward marijuana use. The Hash Bash began in 1972 with mass civil disobedience on the Diag in support of lower fines for pot possession in Ann Arbor. In response City Council finally did lower the fine to $5, just as it did when the drinking age was hiked back to 21 in 1978. The Hash Bash has continued, though, and every April 1 the Diag overflows with people gathering to cop a buzz. But no longer is the Hash Bash a public demon- stration for lenient pot laws-it has become a haven for high school students playing hooky and for those who simply have nothing better to do. The political overtones of the Hash Bash have gone up in smoke. Other types of drugs were commonly used by students in the 70s, with alcohol the most prevalent. A 1974 University study on drug use among students " was published in October 1975, after a series of drug raids in September led to accusations that Ann Arbor was a "drug haven." The study claimed that 69.6 per cent of University students intend to stop. Seats were bars, especially on weeke drink parties were regula although a University housi alcoholic beverages be pros THEN, IN 1978, Mict Proposition D, which raises 21 after it had been lowerec however, many of which ha proposal, suffered little los students under 21-most o: drink legally before the ag bars and still managed to be The study also states ti students smoked pot, and didn't plan to. Hard drugs w study, with only 7 per cent cocaine, and less than one- heroin. Cocaine was mentio ts by the end of the 70s, thot penny-pinching college stu drug. In 1970 drugs were just on The Movement. They were pression of defiance. Today more than a means of escaf long hair and blue jeans- symbol of revolt against Tt when cocaine is becomin drugs have suddenly becom very system ON ELECTION night 1972, a poll worker gazed in disgust at the dirty, hairy students waiting in line to vote. "Isn't it terrible that all these students are voting?" the poll watcher asked a co- worker. "They aren't even citizens." As Ann Arbor entered the 70s, war- weary agitators were searching for alternative channels to effect change. When a 1971 Michigan Supreme Court decision gave students the right to vote in their college towns, they suddenly had a new outlet. By 1972, voters were turning out in record numbers, as students began to realize the power of the franchise. But student membership in the local electorate was not welcomed by many city residents. They feared student par- ticipation in the system would radicalize city policies, in favor of the transient student population rather than permanent residents. FRUSTRATED BY futile attempts to affect national policies, students took the revolutionary ideas that originated in the 60s and tried to infuse them into. local politics. Renewed faith in elec- toral power charged the 1972 political scene with frenetic enthusiasm and promise. It was short-lived. The radical Human Rights Party (HRP) emerged in 1972 as a power in student wards, electing two of its mem- bers to City Council. With a platform based on returning government to the people, Jerry DeGrieck and Nancy Weschler pledged to deliver better housing, a 25-cent pot fine and a tighter Council grip on the police to de- emphasize enforcement of victimless crimes. And if all this wasn't enough to shock city conservatives, DeGrieck of- fered to provide heroin to all addicts in an effort to reduce heroin-related crimes. He said the drug would be of- fered through HRP's drug help and education program. For the next two years, HRP remained a vibrant and often volatile force on Council.Jn retrospect, Ann Ar- bor's brief encounter with third party politics injured the Democrats' grass roots appeal and provided the divisiveness that vaulted a Republican into the mayor's seat in 1973. FOR THE most part, the HRP's legislative attempts came up against a brick wall, forcing the party to make gains through referenda. The $5 pot law, originally passed by Council, was repealed and later approved by the voters. Other HRP-backed issues that were unsuccessful in the Council forum, included rent control and, a resolution against the Vietnam War. D'espite their failure, these issues did get out the liberal/radical vote - the life support of the HRP. Eventually the pitfalls of third party politics and fading student par- ticipation led to the HRP's demise. Some say it was party members' con- cern for issues outside Ann Arbor, while - others attribute the party's decline to competition with the Democrats for the same pool of liberal-minded voters. Former HRP member Dave Cahill said it was the inherent character of the student population that led to HRP's ex- tinction. "Voting is a learned skill that takes time" to develop; "students do not per- ceive themselves as an oppressed class;" and they "have dope, sex, and rock and roll - there's nothing to make a student feel he ought to rise and revolt," he said. When Republican James Stephenson profited from the breakdown of the liberal coalition in 1973, observers said the yo-yo nature of student par- ticipation and yearly party switches in City Hall would keep Republicans in power thereafter. "The Republicans are running the city now," a drunk Republican yelled at Stephenson's mayoral victory party. STUDENTS WERE losing faith in government and the impact of their votes. When First Ward HRP candidate Andrei Joseph was defeated in 1973, he blamed his loss on declining student in- terest. "Those stoned freaks at Alice Lloyd, why didn't they vote?" Five years later it was a worn-out and disillusioned Democratic mayoral can- didate named Jamie Kenworthy who complained about the students who stayed home. "I understand the people who voted against me more than those who didn't vote,' Kenworthy stated. "I wonder how they connect themselves with the rest of the world." When the HRP was shut out of the 1973 election entirely, former Democratic Councilman Robert Faber forecast the party's ultimate fate. "HRP is dead. They were slow to die, but we killed them." And Stephenson outlined a six-month slate to erase any liberal remains from City Hall. But for a "dead" party, the HRP had a profound impact on the 1975 mayoral election. Ironically,. the preferential voting system that put Stephenson at the head of the Council table also replaced him with Dr. Albert Wheeler, the third University professor in two decades to hold the post. The sparse segment of the electorate that voted for HRP mayoral cadidate Carol Ernst was actually,,.esponsible for Whe thu Stress is on individual cha as apathetic nation looks This advertisement, which appeared in local newspapers in the spring of 1970, urged Ann Arbor residents to "Vote Republican before it gets worse." Republi- cans circulated several similar ads throughout the city, while the Democrats reacted by charging the GOP with waging a "fear campaign." victory since he was their second choice. THE MICROBIOLOGY professor was accustomed to challenges - he was the University's first black to win full-time appointment to the faculty in 1952. But a three-way split on Council made Wheeler's the toughest mayor- ship of the decade. In 1975, after a court fight. over PV, Mayor Wheeler looked forward to an election in which the winner would be decided on election night. But the 1977 mayoral race, which Wheeler won by one vote, proved to be a legend of its own. A special election in 1970 put Republican Louis Belcher in the mayor's seat with a whopping victory of almost 200 votes. And if Belcher's 1978 win was a lan- dslide, last April's victory over Democrat Jamie Kenworthy was a rout by Ann Arbor's standards. Once again student apathy was blamed for the 7-4 GOP majority when only 2,766 voters turned out. - - Dwindling student interest in city politics has resulted in a policy shift toward material instead of social ser- vices. Wheeler championed the causes of minorities and the poor throughout his council tenure. Belcher's ad- ministration has emphasized fixing the streets, building parking structures, closing the city's borders, and sup- plying incentives for business growth. THIS SHIFT, combined with changes in government aid to the poor and escalating housing costs, have led to a decline in the city's concern for its un- derprivileged. Ann Arbor has become a city for the affluent - and their children. Inflation has been the key culprit in displacing social with basic city ser- vices., As city har ivare ages, its operators must search for huge amoun- ts of capital to update or replace the sewage system, waste water treatment plant, and streets. Municipal bonds issued through the city's Building "We can end the war and be well-fed, well-clothed, and well- housed and have good highways and maybe even get rid of smog and have clean air and water and still we may lack something, lack something that can only come from the spirit of the people. What we have to give our people, our young people par- ticularly, is a sense of excitement, a sense of involvement, a sense of challenge, a sense of destiny, and only when they have that are they going to have any sense of satis- faction. " Richard Nixon, January, 1970 "A crisis in confidence... strikes at the very heart, soul and spirit of our national will. We can see this crisis in the growing doubt about the meaning of our own lives." -Jimmy Carter, July 1979 E ARE "apathetic," "cynical," "narcissistic," "boring." We have been told we suffer from a mysterious disease called "malaise," that we have lost confidence in our- selves, our nation, and our leaders. Clearly no ten years in a nation's history can be packaged under one neat heading like the "activist 60s" or the "cynical 70s." For instance, what became the non- activist 70s with the killings of four students at Kent State, as campuses continued to boil in the early part of the decade. The accident this year at Three, Mile Island spurred a string of loud and angry demonstrations against nuclear power, and blacks, women and gays still raise their fists at a society that continues to repress them. The start of the 70s also featured the wild antics of the Chicago 7 trial-reflecting what seemed the time the endless struggle of America's youth. During one of the many dramatic showdowns between the seven yippies and court officials, Abbie Hoffman described this struggle in his off-beat language to a nation that refused to listen. "Where do you reside?" asked defense attorney Leonard Weinglass. "Woodstock Nation," Hoffman replied. "What state is that iri;" asked Judge Julius Hof- fman. "The state of mind," Hoffman responded. "It's a nation of alienated young people which we carry around in our minds just as the Sioux Indians carried around the Sioux nation in their minds." HOFFMAN'S WORDS seem very, very distant. The loss of a war, Watergate, the energy crises, and our sudden vulnerability on the inter- national scene have undoubtedly har- dened us. We are a naition looking for ourselves. We are, ip a sense, those Richard Nixon flashes his trademark victory sign-p nounces he is making his third run for the presidency torious at the polls, his presidency ended halfway into cedented defeat.