Crossroads
On April 11th, 1985 I volunteered to be a sound recordist for a scene in a documentary about Allen Ginsberg that my film professor Jerry Aronson was directing. Allen was going to be arrested at a protest on campus at the University of Colorado at Boulder. The protest was against the annual CIA recruitment of UC students and over the years had become quite an event. Allen said something direct to Jerry's camera (I think it was shot in 16mm with a CP16) and then he went up to the line of cops and was arrested. I realized that the shoot was probably over at that point and confirmed it with Jerry. "Do you need me anymore? Can you bring the gear back?"..."Sure".
I then made what felt like a very fateful decision at the time, to get arrested and find out what would happen next. What would it feel like? I had been very inspired by stories of nonviolence and how at some point you need to put yourself on the line for what you believe in. At 24 years of age I remembered thinking that I should be careful, maybe I'm getting on some CIA list now? Maybe this would haunt me in the future if I ran for public office? But the desire to join in with the protest and show up in that moment was far stronger than any reservation. And I adored Allen, so I thought, what the hell? I don't remember a lot of what happened next. It took a long time to get processed and eventually it was just a court date that never happened. From what I remember the charges were dropped.
I filmed the next year's protest with my friend Michael Harrison and a Super-8 sound camera and was jabbed in the ribs with a baton while shooting a scary row of cops (it's funny to hear me go "oww!" when they jabbed me, it didn't hurt that bad). I also got the tail end of teargassing when a group of students rushed the fence set up around the recruiting area (again, not nearly as bad as some of the students who after being tear gassed directly into their eyes were rolling around on the ground screaming). While doing a trucking shot across a group of Boulder police, who were decked out in riot gear and face shields, one of them started to jab me with his baton. I looked into his eyes and realized it was Bob, a cop that I waited on frequently at The Harvest restaurant where I was a waiter. He came in frequently and I knew him, his wife and their kid really well. When I recognized him I smiled and involuntarily said "Bob!" like I would when I saw them when they came in for dinner. Bob looked startled and smiled back and then we had a very surreal short conversation in the middle of a very intense standoff. I'll always remember that as a human moment where people on opposite sides of an arbitrary line are much more complex than they might first appear.