Page 4-Wednesday, January 23, 1980-The Michigan Daily
Ninety Years of Editorial Freedom
Vol. XC, No. 92 News Phone: 764-0552
Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan
Justice will be missed

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01979 The News and Observer
Distributed by LA. Times Syndicate I

TODAY THE NATION will sadly
witness the interment of William
0. Douglas, who nobly served the
Supreme Court, -the Constitution, and
the nation for 36 years as an Associate
Justice.
The just causes behind which
Douglas stood, both within and without
the written opinions he handed down
from the bench, were so copious as to

Douglas

Supreme Court by President Roosevelt
in 1939, but it was not until the bleak
early days of the Cold War and its at-
tendant horror, the red scare, that his
righteously steadfast adherence to the
letter of the Bill of Rights became
glaringly apparent. In a dissent from
the majority opinion in 1951, he said
that officers of the Communist Party
ought to be allowed to preach their
rhetoric, even to the point of ad-
vocating overthrow of the government.
He saw any impingement at all on the
First Amendment right of individuals
and groups to speak their minds as a
dangerous precedent that would allow
unpopular opinions to be silenced at
the whim of the powerful.
He was no criminal, but he spoke for
the rights of those who had been ac-
cused of crimes, even when the iden-
tity of the criminal was not at issue:
"It is no answer that a man is doub-
tlessly guilty. The Bill of Rights was
designed to protect every accused
against practices of the police which
history sh owed were oppressive." These
views, so succinctly and eloquently ex-
pressed, make the loss of Douglas'
voice in the Court all the more dishear-
tening, in light of the Burger Court's
steps backwards toward strict law-
and-order decisions at the expense of
the privacy and security of individuals.
The list goes on. He argued against a
Connecticut law that outlawed certain
contraceptives, writing that that the
right of marital privacy could not be
invaded by legislature. He imposed an
injunction against further American
bombing of Cambodia, though the
Court overturned it. He insisted on
clearingt the Pentagon Papers for
publication, pointing out over the
Nixon Administration's Objections that
"the dominant purpose of the First
Amendment was to prohibit the
widespread practice of governmental
suppression of embarrassing infor-
mation."
. Perhaps William Douglas will be
missed most of all for the kinds of
enemies he managed to collect during
his years in the public eye. He angered
red-baiters by advocating recognition
of the People's Republic of China, he
angered Joe McCarthy by condemning
the "witch hunts" of the 50s, he
repeatedly infuriated President Nixon,
and he angered them all by clinging to
his views so steadfastly and
tenaciously for his 36 years on the ben-
ch.
But he didn't anger us.

History, celebrity, and petty
politics: It was all in Iowa


qualify him as a genuine American
hero, that type of elusive creature
whose very existence has been called
into question by its infrequent ap-
pearance.
Justice Douglas, seemingly alone
among his colleagues, left the question
of his personal tastes out of his
lawmaking. He was no pornographer,
bit when an obsenity case first came'
ujt for consideration, he made his
feelings about censorship clear: "I
think the First Amendment bars all
kinds of censorship. What can be done
to literature under the banner of ob-
scenity can be done to other parts of
the spectrum of ideas when party or
majoritarian demands mount and
propagandists start declaiming the
law."
The Justice could not agree with
some of his colleagues that student
demonstrators should be imprisoned
for their acts of civil disobedience
during the 60s: "Those who cannot af-
ford to advertise in newspapers or cir-
culate elaborate pamphlets may have
only a more limited type of access to
public officials." And on the issue of
the heinous Vietnam War itself,
Douglas was there again, speaking out
against it, earlier even than most other
liberals.
Douglas was appointed to the

I used to be a student. Seriously, I used to go
to school. In fact,;I think I still do. Maybe. You
see, I am just not sure anymore. I can't be
sure of anything anymore after the lastfew
days. In fact, I'm not even sure it really hap-
pened.
Maybe I lost my sanity when I attended a
press conference in Davenport, Iowa last
Friday. I've been at a lot of press conferen-
ces, but never before had I really been ner-
vous. This was different. Ted Kennedy was
the guest of honor. He was scheduled to arrive
at 2:30 p.m. I got there at 1:30. There was no
way in the world that I was going to miss it. I
tried to relax but it was impossible. Now,
don't get me wrong. Ted Kennedy is not my
favorite person, or even politician. But put-
ting political preferences aside-if that's
possible-I was nervous for another reason.
Ted Kennedy is history. His brothers were
history. If one doesn't understand the legacy
of the Kennedy brothers, then one can't
possibly understand America. Both go
together, perhaps forever.
IN BETWEEN thoughts, I checked my
watch. It was 2:00. Take it easy, Mike. He's
not supposed to show up for at least a half
hour. I don't remember following my own ad-
vice, I hardly ever do. '
I never checked my watch so often in my
entire life. Perhaps 10 times in five minutes.
Finally, after an eternity, still no Kennedy. It
was 2:30.2:31.2:32.2:33. I was driving myself
mad.
Good old reliable Ted shows up at 3:46. I
didn't care. As he entered the'room, suddenly
I felt empty. I felt like I was a blob of space
with no control, no energy, no anything. The
Secret Service, the travelling press corps,
and Kennedy's immediate family members
didn't do much to cure my ulcer. The can-
didate himself practically ruined my stomach
forever.
THE PRESS conference started. I know
now that I was writing things down but I don't
remember feeling my pen. It must have been
completely instinctive. The intro ended, time
for questions. A .few seconds went by and
nobody had any questions. I still don't know
how it happened but my hand went up. The
senator called on me. I asked him if we should
pull out of the Olympics. He said no. Then, I
asked him about his political chances in
Iowa; he was optimistic.
The press conference ended. There were no
more questions. Mine were the only ones. In a
moment of surprise, I blurted out, "That's
it?" Kennedy immediately answered me by
laughing and saying, "Yes, that's it." He
moved his hands in a helpless gesture as he
said that.
I kept my eyes on the youngest of the
amazing political dynasty. He kept his on
mine. Then, he walked over to me. I froze. He
said he sensed I had more questions, and said
he would be proud to answer them. I asked
him a few questions (the exact answers
escape me at this moment). It was over
almost as quickly as it had begun. I had inter-
viewed Ted Kennedy. Ted Kennedy-the
brother of the two greatest political legends
had just spoken to me. If that sounds like I
was excited, I was. I still can't believe it.
MAYBE I LOST my mind the next day
when I was invited to a special party for jour-
nalists, sponsored by the Iowa Democratic
Party. Everyone was invited to sit and watch
the Super Bowl together. Big deal, I thought.
Big deal, that is, until I got there. The party
was at this ranch, somewhere in the general
vicinity of DesMoines, Iowa. Oh, I guess I
forgot. All of this dream-or reality-hap-
pened in the lovely state of Iowa where
nothing happens everyfour years except for
anma ,lif ni ir n vx a h

reporter for the New York Times. That repor-
ter, you see, was not and is not just some plain
reporter for the best goddamn newspaper in
the world. He's Hedrick Smith, former Times
correspondent in Moscow, and current Mr.
Everything for them. Everytime I pick up
that old rag, I see this guy writing an analysis
about another major development in this
country. Whether it be the agricultural future
of the current..administration's debate over
the hostages crisis, Hedrick Smith is there. To
me, however, he was just always a, byline. By
Hedrick Smith. Who? Well, that day, I found
out who. He's this tall man whose. display of
confidence overwhelms you. He seems almost
too distant.

By Michael Arkush

Sa

ding on their preferences-and then the count
is made.
I VISITED ONE of the precincts Monday
night and came away completely upset with.
the American political system. Now I finally
understand that this example was probably
atypical, but nonetheless what I saw scares
me. After the Kennedy people and Carter*
supporters had branched into their own sife
places, the battle became who would capture
the uncommitted bloc. The Kennedy leader
promised the bloc of 15 Democrats-they
would swing the victory one way or the
other-two delegates. The Carter people
promised them one. Kennedy won. What was
more alarming, though, was the reasoning
that went into the decisions of the uncommit-
ted' group. It wasn't important what each
candidate thought about defense spending, in-
flation, unemployment, etc. All that mattered

0

AP Pnoto
A DEMOCRATIC CHAIRMAN helps conduct a caucus in a Cedar Rapids, Iowa school room.
Petty politics seemed to pervade some of the 2531 caucuses which were held across the state on
Monday.


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Yet, in a matter of minutes, he came down
from the mountaintop where I had placed
him. He sat down next to me and watched he
game with me. He cheered. He booed. He
grinned. He complained. He was a fan.
Hedrick Smith could be a sports fan. You may
laugh at my shock at this development. Why
would I actually think that a journalist, even
one who writes for the New York Times,
wouldn't be able to cheer at a football game.
The truth is simple. When you placed a person
above everyone else for so long, he assumes
an immortal image. It grows to the point
that you can't imagine him doing anything
else except writing those great analytical
pieces.
IF I DIDN'T go completely off my rocker
then, well, maybe the event that finally tur-
ned the trick occurred two nights ago. We
were all hanging around the hotel waiting for
the results of the Iowa caucuses. (After all,
that's why I spent five days in this pit). At
these times, one becomes nervous, and thus
has to make constant use of the bathroom.
During one of my many trips there that night,
I ran into an old and short man with white
hair. As I stood there, he came into my office.
It was only Frank Reynolds. Yes, Frank
Reynolds. As I usually do when I meet impor-
tant people by accident, I asked stupid
questions. I talked about Carter, Kennedy,
Bush, Brown, etc. It was over in two minutes.
As I look back on it, I wish I had asked him if
it was Day 79 or Day 80. I guess that would
have been just a bit out of taste. Just a bit.
Damn, I should've said it. I wonder what his
reaction would have been.

was what each camp had to offer. Power was
and probably always will be the name of the
game. It was disgusting.
Of course, I had always thought
about the dirty and unfair game of
politics. But never had I seen it so
clearly demonstratd at such a low level. What
a hell of a way to pick the man who is going to
lead this nation for the next four years. And:
people wonder why politicians are all corrupt.:
I won't dwell for too long on how the media
has taken over the Iowa caucuses. Ever since
James Earl Carter used this state-to kick off
his amazing political climb to the White
House, this mdwestern forum of politics has a
ssumed a new role in American politics.
Everyone knows that, or should know that.
What has happened now, though, i is
something much more than that. The media
has become the centerpiece. Walter Cronkite,
John Chancellor, and my good friend, Frank
Reynolds, are more popular, more well-liked,
than Bob Dole, Robert Crane and Jerry
Brown. Iowans here are more excited about ,
seeing these television celebrities than the
politicians themselves. Maybe a Cronkite-
Reynolds ticket in 1980 could beat Carter-
Mondale.
Finally, the winners and the losers. The ,
winners were Jimmy Carter and George,.
Bush. The losers were Ted Kennedy and :
Ronald Reagan. but it's still to early, the New'
Hampshire primary on February 26 could'
turn things around for both losers. And it *
could put both of them into even graver
trouble. -

P