By Murray Polner
It’s been 45 years
since draft-deferred 0hio National Guardsmen aimed their M-1 rifles and .45
pistols at unarmed Ken State College students, killing four and wounding nine on
May 4, 1970. You have to be well into middle age now to remember that day. My memory
is stirred whenever I look at three photos: John Filo’s striking shot of
teenager Mary Ann Vecchio on her knees weeping as she bends over student
Jeffrey Miller’s body, I photo I took of Jeffrey’s grieving mother for a
magazine my son Alex once edited, and a picture of two of the forever crippled
in wheelchairs, KSU student Dean Kahler and wounded Marine Vietnam vet Ron
Kovic of ‘Born on the Fourth of July” fame.
On the 41st
anniversary of the shootings in 2011, the Cleveland Plain Dealer, the state’s
largest newspaper, concluded, “There has never been a completely satisfactory
explanation for why the Guard fired.” In fact, it went on, “The central unresolved
question in the Kent State affair has been why several dozen Ohio Guardsmen pivoted
in unison and fired” and for 13 agonizing seconds killed and wounded so many of
their peers. The previous year the paper had reported the finding of an audio
recording where a Guard office was said to shout, “All right, prepare to fire.”
This led to an editorial urging the state to take another look “and give full
account of that tragic day.”
“That tragic day”
followed Nixon’s announcement that the U.S. had invaded Cambodia and expanded the
war, causing antiwar college students throughout the nation to go on strike. It
was a time when the President called antiwar students “bums” and Ohio’s Republican
Governor James Rhodes, in a tight and ultimately losing race, described students
against the war as “worse than brown shirts and the communist element and also
night riders and vigilantes. They are the worst type of people that we harbor
in America.”
A majority of blinkered
Americans agreed. Apprehensive and uncertain, yearning for a return to an
allegedly untroubled era before the tumultuous sixties, and manipulated all
their lives to believe that only an “exceptional” America protected them against
Communist and Asian hordes, they supported the shootings, as a Gallup poll reported. Pat Moynihan thought May
4an amounted to a pro-war plebiscite, a prescient remark given that two
years later Nixon overwhelmingly defeated George McGovern, an unflinching dove.
And Milton Viorst, one of the sharpest pundits of those years, thought, “The
1960s ended in a small town in Ohio named Kent.”
After several
trials, a presidential commission, and books galore, no-one was ever held
responsible despite a final settlement of a meager $674,000 distributed among
the thirteen families. It did, however, lead to the development of the superb
May 4th Collection at the KSU Library with its rich lode of material.
One is Charles A. Thomas’s memoir. He had worked for the National Archives and
was asked to examine films used by the Scranton (investigating) presidential
commission. His finding: “it looked very much as if someone had doctored the
evidence to minimize any impression of the Guard’s brutality and to plant the
spurious notion that the soldiers had been confronted with a raging student
mob,” a charge refuted by the Justice Department when it summarized the
FBI’s findings. There’s much more in the
May 4th Collection.
It also includes the
long-forgotten Scranton commission’s devastating verdict that, while liberally
casting responsibility on all parties, something happened that should never
have happened: “the indiscriminate firing of rifles into a crowd of students
and the deaths that followed were unnecessary, unwarranted and inexcusable.”
Period!
Still, the case is now deemed
to be dead. Why? Who cares? Who remembers? Who wants to remember?
My own judgment is that
while I know of no smoking gun or death bed confession the “guilty” one (s) got
away, the “guilty” being the person or persons who ordered the Guardsmen to
open fire. So many unanswered questions
remain about Rhodes’ close ties with the FBI, an armed FBI informer on campus, what
if anything relevant college, local and state police discovered. And what role,
if any, did VIPs in Washington’s uber-secret chambers play? Contemporary
critics have regularly and repeatedly proposed many more questions.
Years after May 4,
1970, Caroline Arnold, a Kent resident, wrote a column for the Kent-Ravenna Record
Courier in which she reminded her small-town readers that “Truth wasn’t
murdered at Kent State. People were murdered, people were wounded, hurt, frightened
and bewildered, and much damage was done across the community and university.”
For our national
political elite unwilling to publicly confront those responsible for the
slaughters of the pointless Vietnam and Iraq/Afghan wars it may be too much to expect
anyone to bother themselves with a piddling four deaths and nine wounded
college kids.
Still, I have to ask if
anyone in the White House on down has the audacity to call for a new
investigation? Anyone?
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