“Jumping Jack Flash” – The Rolling Stones
The fall had been fairly successful by most accounts. The homecoming party had been a hit and hadn’t broken the bank, the Little Sis Chapter was underway and the quality of the recruit class was first class. But winters were tough on the old house and the chapter members.
About half of the brothers had cars. The other half hitched rides whenever possible to avoid the long cold walks to and from the Hill when the University Bus system failed to run on time. The further along a student was in their degree, the fewer choices he had for scheduling classes, so evening classes always seemed to be on the same day as early morning classes followed by another day of early morning classes, which further complicated the transportation issues.
Drug use was becoming more visible on campus, but the fraternity was insulated by space and character. However, they weren’t above wasting brain cells on alcohol. Cheap 3.2 beer was readily available at dozens of places downtown. University-produced shows featuring Donovan, Jose Feliciano, Richie Havens, Sly and the Family Stone, The Association and Bill Cosby replaced aging entertainment from prior years like Bob Hope, Johnny Mathis, Slappy White and Sammy Davis Jr. That fall, everything and anything entertaining was added to a darkening backdrop of the Black Panthers, Students for Democratic Society and the Weatherman who continued to visit the campus at an increased frequency.
Looming on the horizon was continued and growing campus unrest as Kent State had begun to gain notoriety over the less conservative universities that reflected the culture of the people of Ohio. Anti-war demonstrations on the east coast were drawing hundreds of thousands of demonstrators while remnants of the 1968 Democratic Convention debacle in Chicago had overflowed to the KSU campus. Anti-war protesters spray painted “Napalm at 2 for a dollar” on the outside of the ROTC building and were reinforced by a core group of ten-to-twenty people who marched with brooms for guns and pots for helmets side-by-side with the ROTC, mocking their weekly drills on the Commons. The fall of 1969 was a learning lab for demonstration organizers who discovered they needed only a handful of people to fill the small TV screens in the homes across America every night as shocked citizens watched the nightly news, thinking thousands were involved instead of a dozen.
Sunset in Northern Ohio occurred around 5:30 p.m. in late November. Mom stood in the kitchen outside her apartment as she gazed out the rear kitchen windows. She watched the few boys that would not leave for Thanksgiving holiday celebrations until Thursday, as they filed into the coach house door that led to the second floor basketball court for their usual mid-week stress-release game. The weather that day was barely above freezing and constant drizzle had washed the day into night. The parking lot had become one big mud hole, which if this was like most years, wouldn’t dry out until next June after the spring rains added their mess. Through the open door, her TV set, always tuned to her favorite local Cleveland news program, could be heard in the kitchen so she wouldn’t miss anything important.
“Hi, Mom,” said Fred as he walked into the kitchen.
“Hello, Fred. What are you up to tonight?” She knew the answer wasn’t going to be playing basketball. Fred had no sports skills.
“I’ve got a poly-sci test Monday . . . it’s one third of my grade . . . so that will be my night and most of the weekend.” He sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Why does a grade school teacher need political science anyway?”
“You’ve got to be smarter than the kids, and from my experience, kids get smarter every day.”
Fred looked a little frightened by that thought. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”
“My son is coming by tonight to pick me up. I’ll spend the weekend with him and his family,” she answered.
From the TV in her room she and Fred heard the words of the news anchor announcing, “On this Thanksgiving eve at the White House, President Nixon signed the Executive Order setting up the lottery for Selective Service draftees. This is the first lottery for draft selection since World War II and will affect nearly 24,000,000 men born from 1944 through 1950. There has been no word yet from the Selective Service when this lottery will be held, but the Pentagon has said that they are well behind staffing requirements to support the Vietnam conflict. In financial news from New York . . .”
Fred said under his breath, “Happy Thanksgiving to me.” His expression was a mixture of shock and fear.
“Don’t worry yet, Fred. One thing I learned in my sixty-seven years is you can’t worry about the things you can’t control,” Mom tried to comfort him as she reached up and patted his shoulder.
“I guess I’m different . . . I find worrying actually helps. I mean, like 90% of the things I worry about never happen. Now, I just have to hope this draft thing is not in the 10%.”
The sound of a large window breaking was heard from the coach house. Soon, the boys came down the stairs and jogged across the parking lot. They were laughing as they came through the door . . . without the ball.
“It’s just a ball . . . we can buy another one,” Ira said.
“What happened to the ball?” Fred asked.
“If Ira were taller, he could have caught my pass, but it went through the window and into the Sanderson’s back yard. No one wanted to go knock on their door. Remember last time?” Larry laughed.
“I remember,” Mom said. “Every time something happens in the neighborhood, they come see me first.” She shook her head. “I really could not believe that Mr. Sanderson actually thought that our Ted was inside their house with his daughter. That girl couldn’t be but sixteen years old!”
Everyone glanced at one another and couldn’t help but laugh under their breath. “Sixteen years old indeed,” said Ira with a smile.
“That old, huh?” Larry added.
“Fred, you want to go down and get a burger at Eddie’s?” Kevin asked.
“No . . . I don’t think I feel like it tonight,” Fred answered.
“You sick? You never turn down a bar ride.”
Fred was still trying to digest what he’d heard on the news and how it would impact his life. Mom understood and spoke up. “They said on the news tonight that the President signed an executive order to re-instate the draft lottery today. Everyone in the chapter will be eligible.”
The boys exchanged alarmed looks.
Kevin asked, “When is this going to happen? Did they say?”
Fred answered solemnly. “No . . . just that the Pentagon said they were behind in staffing up for Nam so they wanted it done quickly.”
“Did they say how they would do the lottery . . . like by name or social security number?” Ira asked.
“During World War II they drew birthdates to see who was first, second and so on,” Mom answered.
“Jesus Christ . . . why didn’t he wait to sign it at the Macy’s Parade tomorrow!” Kevin exclaimed. “What an asshole . . . does he think we won’t remember how he did this when we get to vote for president?”
“It’s not like it’s his war,” Larry spoke up. “This goes back to Kennedy.”
“Eisenhower sent the first advisers in,” Ira corrected.
“Yeah, but the first guy died during Kennedy’s watch.”
“But the biggest villain of all was Johnson who didn’t have a clue . . . or any balls,” Fred added.
“See, that poly-sci class has made an impression,” Mom commented, trying to lighten the mood, but failing miserably.