The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
b-side
Thursday, February 21, 2019 — 3B
Look what’s going down:
Protesting in Ann Arbor
LENI SINCLAIR
ALIX CURNOW
Daily Arts Writer
B-SIDE LEAD
There’s nothing special about
a street corner. It’s only a tiny
intersection
that
thousands
of busy passerbys see in their
peripheral vision on their drive
to work each day. Thoughts of
their to-do lists or annoyance
at the poorly made coffee the
barista gave them that morning
are given far more room in
their minds. Ann Arbor street
corners have been stepped on
and overlooked for decades.
Yet, they have felt the feet of
thousands of protestors beating
against their pavement. They
have heard the voice of John
Lennon singing the words “Free
John Sinclair” to a crowd of
thousands. They have seen the
delicate intricacies of an LGBT
couple interlocking fingers in
nervous excitement publicly for
the first time. They have smelled
the sourness of illegal (and now
legal) marijuana being lit from
the carefully rolled joints of
college students for decades.
How many eyes have grazed
over these idle street corners?
And who did those eyes belong
to? What did these people
believe in? Who are they now?
Street
corners
have
been
holding up the city of Ann Arbor
for decades. Decades that were
filled
with
groundbreaking
political
movements,
new
scientific
discoveries
and
innovative musical melodies.
Decades that have slipped away
from us, falling into the all-
consuming creature that is “the
passing of time.”
However, the memories of
these decades can forever be
retold to all ears who are willing
to listen. When I interviewed
Jeff Gaynor, a retired Ann
Arbor teacher who studied at
the University of Michigan from
1968 to 1971, memories of the
past seemed to come flooding
back to him. After graduating
from
Cass
Technical
High
School, Gaynor came to the
University as a freshman in
the fall of 1968. It was the only
school he’d applied to. He’d play
pool in the billiards room and
go bowling in the Union. His
freshman year was also a huge
year politically for the United
States.
“The
assassinations
of
Martin Luther King and Robert
Kennedy, Vietnam, huge protests
of the Democratic Convention
in Chicago, etc. — the latter
happening just after I arrived at
U-M. But my freshman year, the
student protest was to establish
a student-run bookstore,” said
Gaynor in an email to The Daily.
“There
were
only
two
bookstores
students
had
to
buy textbooks: Ulrich’s and
Follett’s,” he continued, “and we
considered them to be capitalist
businesses that were ripping off
the students. (Students) wanted
the University to fund our own
bookstore. There were marches
and protests, and one Saturday
night students occupied the
Administration Building – what
became the LS&A building on
State St.”
“I was involved enough so
that when the administration
placed a memo in all of the
dorm mailboxes, giving their
perspective but not allowing the
protesting students to do the
same, I was livid,” he said. “I
found a friend and walked down
S. University to the president’s
house, knocked on the door,
and asked to speak to President
Fleming. We were ushered in,
and 5 minutes later he came down
and spoke with us, probably for
10 minutes. I left unhappy that
we couldn’t convince him of the
righteousness of our position,
but I gained a lot of respect for
him for speaking with us. It was
more common in those days
for hundreds of protesters to
assemble on his lawn, and chant.
Who knew that you could knock
on his door in the middle of the
day and actually talk with him!”
Bookstore
protests
didn’t
seem to be the only political
movements
students
were
getting involved in during this
time. Gaynor explained that in
his sophomore year (1969-1970)
he saw the emergence of BAM
(the Black Action Movement)
at the University. The Black
Action Movement was a series of
protests by students against the
racist policies and actions of the
University of Michigan.
“I wasn’t centrally involved,
but I was supportive,” Gaynor
said. “One day, I remember
being in the lobby of South Quad
talking with another student, a
Black student, who was on the
football team. I asked him if he
was going to be participating in
the student strike that the BAM
organizers had called for. He
paused, looked at me straight in
the eye, and said, ‘Bo says, ‘No!’’”
Gaynor
went
on,
“Bo
Schembechler was the football
coach, if I need explain. I was
flabbergasted, but realized that
scholarship athletes didn’t have
the autonomy to make decisions
that other students had. It also
made me realize that U-Mich
athletes were athletes first, and
students only incidentally.”
It’s important to note that
political movements such as
the
ones
BAM
participated
in during this time are still
being fought for today. The
first protest that BAM ignited
was after the assassination of
Martin Luther King Jr. in 1968;
the students protested against
the University administration
for lack of support for minorities
on campus. In September of
2017, racial slurs were written
on dorm door nametags and
students took to the lawn of
President Schlissel’s home and
protested in a manner similar to
the protests Gaynor describes.
The incident was featured
in Teen Vogue, which wrote,
“On September 20, nearly 200
students,
including
members
of the Black Student Union
and
student
organization
Students4Justice,
protested
(the racial slurs) on campus,
leading to a meeting that night
with
University
president
Mark Schlissel and University
police chief Robert Neumann
— a meeting that Schlissel
ultimately left early, to the
ire of students. A white man,
who was ultimately arrested,
harassed protesters with racial
slurs which led to a physical
confrontation.”
Perhaps
the
past isn’t as different from
today as we are lead to believe.
“There was a significant
town-gown split — the campus
being liberal and the rest of Ann
Arbor being quite conservative,”
says Gaynor about the political
climate in Ann Arbor at the
time. “It was the time of student
power so we felt it natural that
we could advocate powerfully
for change. The SDS (Students
for a Democratic Society) had
formed before I arrived on
campus. Meanwhile there were
many Republicans in Ann Arbor
back then. In fact, there was a
Republican mayor.”
It was this exact political
divide in Ann Arbor that ignited
movements such as “Free John
Sinclair.” Sinclair was one of the
founders of the political party
The White Panthers. The White
Panthers were a far left, anti-
racist, White American political
collective. John Sinclair was
sent to prison in Jackson, Mich.,
serving
an
eight-and-a-half
to 10 year sentence for giving
two marijuana cigarettes to an
undercover police officer in
1967. In response to his arrest,
a “John Sinclair Freedom Rally
and Concert” was organized.
According to an essay written
for the Ann Arbor District
Library by Rob Hoffman, a
former
sports
reporter
for
the Ann Arbor News, “Leni
(Sinclair) had spent the evening
of Dec. 10, 1971, manning a
table on the Crisler concourse
where she sold merchandise
and distributed literature for
the political party founded by
her then-husband, the White
Panthers. By her side were her
two young children. Between
the table and her parenting
responsibilities, she admitted
she remembered very little about
the music and speeches taking
place on the main stage - except
for the surprise appearance by
one of her personal favorites,
Stevie Wonder.”
Hoffman went on to write that,
“The night, however, belonged
to two main attractions: John
Lennon,
performing
live
in
the United States for the first
time since the breakup of the
Beatles. And there was Sinclair
himself, in a phone call piped
over Crisler’s PA system ... It was
a semi-clandestine call — one
that Sinclair didn’t think would
happen until he noticed that
the prison guards were paying
more attention to the game on
TV than to what he was doing.
About 48 hours after Lennon
closed the concert by singing
‘Free John Sinclair,’ a song he
had especially written for the
event, Sinclair walked out of his
prison cell and into the arms of
a sobbing Leni and their two
children.”
I had the opportunity to speak
on the phone with Amy Cantu, a
librarian at Ann Arbor District
Library and organizer of the
2011 program “Freeing John
Sinclair: The Day Legends Came
to Town.” This was a series of
events celebrating the launch of
AADL’s Freeing John Sinclair
website and marking the 40th
anniversary of the John Sinclair
Freedom Rally that took place
in Ann Arbor on December 10,
1971. Cantu has spoken with
Sinclair herself.
“He doesn’t hold back,” Cantu
said of Sinclair. “He says what he
thinks and he’s very thoughtful
and willing to share.”
Although I did not get a
chance to interview John or Leni
Sinclair myself, I watched the
panel discussion he participated
in amongst many other members
of The White Panther Party
during
the
“Freeing
John
Sinclair: The Day Legends Came
to Town” program curated by
Cantu.
Retired
Professor
Bruce
Conforth moderated this panel.
When discussing the ideas The
White Panther party promoted,
Conforth asked Sinclair, “Are
you still putting together the
idea that, come out in the open
and smoke some dope with
us, pass the joint around to
your friends, doesn’t it make
you feel good, doesn’t it make
you want to fuck, well then go
right ahead. Because after all,
what we want is fucking in the
streets.’”
Sinclair
responded
with a solemn, “Amen.”
Conforth followed up his
question by asking, “What were
you thinking?”
Sinclair replied: “Thinking?
Does thinking have anything to
do with a statement like that?
We also had an expression at
that time called cut your head
off, stop thinking, follow your
body. That would be part of
that rhetoric. Cut your head off,
get rid of it. People thinking
too much. Thinking was what
got them into the war and the
whole ugly shit that America
has become all came from
white men with a lot of money
thinking about how they wanted
a perfect world. Now they have
it. Do you like it? It’s like Frank
Zappa said. Do you love it? Do
you hate it? There it is, the way
you made it.”
The
energy
surrounding
Sinclair’s
statements
was
palpable, and truly a testament
to the times back then.
In
my
conversation
with
Cantu, she spoke of the energy of
the streets of Ann Arbor during
the ’60s. “Ann Arbor tapped into
that whole social protest of the
period. It was fueled by some of
the groups that were here. It had
kind of its own energetic era,”
she said.
The energy Ann Arbor had
then is still lingering in the
street
corners
somewhere,
although now, it may be a bit
harder to find. Gaynor attested
to the belief that although
Ann Arbor isn’t the same as it
once was there are still some
dangerous similarities.
“I’ve always said Ann Arbor
is a great town to live in if
you’re educated and/or wealthy
enough — and that is even more
true now,” Gaynor said. “More
people want to live here, and an
even greater number can’t afford
to. This is true for students too,
I’m sure. I paid $480 a year for
tuition in ’68-69. When I lived
off campus, I paid $150 a month
rent – or less when I lived with
more people. And as liberal as
Ann Arbor pretends to be, many
long time Ann Arbor residents,
especially homeowners, don’t
want new development, don’t
want Ann Arbor to change.”
The fights that were being
fought back then are largely the
fights we are fighting now. Yet
during the time of the White
Panther Party, there seemed to
be an altruistic energy to their
protests. Now, it seems that
people profit and capitalize
off of the “coolness” of the
’60s, as seen through the mass
marketing of flower crowns and
bell bottom jeans. Our obsession
with the aesthetic of the ’60s and
’70s rather than their cultural
importance
perpetuates
a
culture of people fighting for the
perfect Instagram photo rather
than equal rights. Or perhaps a
culture obsessed with trying to
wistfully regain a past that is
looked at with such affection.
But these are only prototypes
and renditions of an era with
an
authenticity
and
energy
that cannot be replicated. And
though the era cannot be so
easily replicated, it can certainly
teach us all something. These
Ann Arbor street corners have
thousands of stories to tell — we
should be listening.
‘Close Friends’
Lil Baby
YSL Records /
Quality Control
Music
MUSIC VIDEO REVIEW: ‘CLOSE FRIENDS’
It’s funny. For a song detailing
the circumstances surrounding
an ugly breakup between Lil
Baby and his former girlfriend/
best friend, a surprisingly short
amount of time in the “Close
Friends” music video is devoted
to the two former lovers. In
fact, there are several shots
of Lil Baby slouching on the
balcony of a Parisian apartment,
and there are even more shots
of him riding around Paris
in a Mercedes-Benz S-Class,
rapping
emphatically.
After
all, it is a rap video — these
lackluster scenes are industry
standards at this point, and it
doesn’t appear they are going
away any time soon. As such,
these tropes are to be expected
and sufficiently ignored.
On top of this, the video has
a few glaring issues, primarily
Lil Baby’s acting. It is so robotic
and flat-out bizarre that it’s
hard not to laugh. The tender
opening dinner scene between
the Atlanta crooner and his
girlfriend (who is Lil Baby’s
actual
girlfriend)
is
made
absurd by Lil Baby’s writhing
and
constant
motion.
The
scene portraying an argument
in which the woman swipes
a video game controller from
Baby’s hand is ruined by his
inability
to
feign
emotion,
instead opting to cease all
movement until the camera
changes focus. With this in
mind, it is wholly possible for
viewers to display more emotion
while watching the video than
Lil Baby does while acting in it.
With
“Close
Friends,”
director DAPS, the man once
renowned
for
his
surreal,
almost whimsical music videos
for the likes of Kendrick Lamar
and Migos, seems to have
lost his edge. While visually
stunning, DAPS videos become
stale rather quickly, and the
one for “Close Friends” is no
exception. Perhaps it is because
DAPS has oversaturated the
market with his repeated use
of the same creative vision for
every single one of his videos.
It’s hard to say, really. But hey, at
least it looks nice.
— Jim Wilson, Daily Arts
Writer
QUALITY CONTROL MUSIC
BENTLEY HISTORICAL LIBRARY
Now, it seems
that people
capitalize off of
the “coolness” of
the ’60s, as seen
through the mass
marketing of
flower crowns and
bell bottom jeans