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Until the Cops Changed Things
By Eric Friedman
Raw and Unedited
It's a sad day in the world when thousands of people in San Francisco are arrested for marching for peace.� Think about it--San Francisco and peace marches go together like Chicago and sausage.� The media has been doing its usual job of reporting just enough information to get the whole story wrong.� So here's my first hand account of what's really happening.� Please share this story with all who are interested--both those who support the war and those against it.
On a typically windy and blustery San Francisco evening, people began to gather at Powell and Market at 5 pm Friday March 21st.� A small sized crowd of 5000 or so packed the sidewalks and the cable car turn around.� There were many concerned faces, young kids chanting, men dressed up as Uncle Sam, scores holding "Not in Our Name" signs, others holding posters calling for peace and justice, and many many others protesting with just their presence.� Already a large police contingency was blocking most of Market Street.� Wearing helmets and face shields, the police seemed intent on keeping the protesters out of the street.� But tensions were low and neither the crowd nor the police were particularly restless.
The march started up the sidewalk on Market Street, with thousands of people slowly filing out.� Driving big SUV's and motorcycles, the police in the street flanked the march proclaiming through a large PA system that the protesters were to "remain on the sidewalks.� Anyone marching in the street will be arrested.� Those riding bicycles in the street will obey traffic signs or you will be arrested."� This message was repeated as the march spread down the sidewalk.� The marchers were exceedingly compliant, following the orders of the police and staying out of the street.� At one point a truck was blocking the sidewalk (which ironically, as you will see later in the story, was "obstructing a sidewalk").� This forced the marchers to slow down and weave their way around the truck and past a subway entrance in order to avoid entering the street.� As the march began to stretch for a few blocks, the police followed now with hundreds on foot jogging along.� For many blocks things remained orderly and smooth.� The only disruption was some slowed traffic as the police blocked side streets while the march went through.�
Then for some reason the cops decided to change things.�
Rather than let the march continue down the sidewalk of Market Street, which stretched ahead of us for many more blocks, the police blocked the way.� Several huge police busses blocked Market Street just past Larkin street, and a line of cops blocked the sidewalk.� I was about 300 feet back from the front of the group, but at 6 feet 4 inches tall I always get a good view of the situation. With nowhere to go the march turned on Larkin.� At this point we were in the street.� The usual chant of "WHOSE STREETS?� OUR STREETS!!" broke out as we walked a block up Larkin and turned left on Grove, passing the Civic center and drawing the attention of a crowd in front of the Bill Graham Auditorium who were waiting to get into the Erasure show later in the night.� Many people were in the streets, but a good number stuck to the sidewalks.� We crossed Van Ness and then Gough, taking control of most of the street at this point.� Although we were in the street, the march continued to be peaceful with hardly a shred of tension with the cops or even motorists trapped by the march.�
Once again the cops decided to change things.� I have no idea how they mobilize so quickly, but there they were again blocking the march's path.� This time rows of riot gear police stood in our way.� I was still a bit back from the front, so what I first noticed were people turning around and walking back toward me.� Some were shouting that we should turn around and head for 9th and Market where a group of protesters were trapped by cops.� Instead we turned onto Franklin heading North.� I guess I somehow ended up making that decision (Sorry everyone!!) as I pointed and shouted, "Let's go that way!" which goes to show how organic the movement was.� Someone asked me "Why are we going this way?"� I said I don't know but there aren't any cops this way!�
Let me reiterate that everything was still very peaceful.� No shouting, no rock throwing, no tear gas, no windows being smashed, nobody provoking the cops.� There was just a large group of people with a message of peace taking to the streets, exercising their right to peacefully assemble.
Until the cops changed things again.� I had my bike with me and I was psyched to see up ahead on Franklin a huge group of 75-100 cyclists rounding the corner heading down towards us.� The crowd ahead of me erupted in cheer as the marchers met the cyclists.� I was about to hop on my bike and join the cyclists where all of a sudden everyone around me was running.� "Hey," I shouted.� "What are we running for?"� I turned around and saw that the cops had cut us off from the back, marching in two long rows across Franklin, splitting the march into two groups with the majority of the crowd on the other side of the cops from me.� I turned again and saw that another line of cops was filling the intersection ahead of me.� They were everywhere; one second we were alone on the streets and the next there were 300 cops--BAM, in the blink of an eye they were there, looking rather intimidating with their batons held at their chests, helmets and face shields, motorcycles, wailing sirens, paddy wagons.� Shit.� They're trying to trap us.� I ran toward the street corner in front of me and to a small gap which the cops were quickly filling as they filed across the intersection.� I didn't make it.� By about 20 feet, the cops beat me to the corner and I was trapped.� I turned again and saw people making a break for the path between the Opera house and the Herbst Theatre.� Most of them were cut off by cops when their path was slowed by a high railing edging the sidewalk.�
We were undeniable surrounded and trapped.� At least 300 cops surrounded a group of no more than 200 people.� In previous days, more surly and daring protesters defiantly danced and sat in the streets, but the group I was with quickly headed onto the sidewalks gathering together in groups as a sign of security.� The mood was tense, but mostly everyone looked scared.� These people were clearly not looking to get into any trouble.� One person got injured in the scramble and was taken away by paramedics.� A few people climbed trees.� Others sat on the wall in front of the school district office.� The cops have this trick where they march into intersections in 2 lines; then one line advances into the street leaving a buffer zone between the 2 lines.� So if you somehow managed to get through the first line, you'd certainly be caught by the second line.� For the next half hour I paced restlessly with my bike trying to figure out what was going to happen.� Everybody was nervous and a general air of anxious anticipation hung over the crowd.� I purposely kept my bike helmet on thinking that if the shit started to go down the helmet would protect my head from swinging police batons.� As that line of thinking furthered in my head I envisioned the situation turning sour if people really started losing their cool.� Using my boisterous teacher voice I walked down the street pleading for people to keep calm and peaceful and to remember to stay non-violent.� My words were met with smiles.
After 45 minutes we were all pretty sure we were going to be arrested.� Shouts went through the crowd from seasoned protesters informing us of our rights.� People passed around pens and markers to write the number for the National Lawyers Guild on arms and hands.� People on cell phones made calls to family and friends as well as to radio stations and the DA's office.� I made the decision to lock my bike up so it wouldn't get confiscated in the arrest.� By this point the cops had marched a line straight down Franklin, splitting us into a smaller and bigger group on opposite sides of the street.� Converted MUNI buses and police paddy wagon buses began to show up.� A cop walked down the street with a megaphone: "You are all under arrest.� The charges are Section 2800 'Failure to obey a traffic officer' and Section 647 'Obstructing a sidewalk.'� There will be no arguments.� It will take us a long time to get you all out of here so be patient.� I'll be back to answer questions in a moment."� He went on to say a few other things about whether we wanted to give them our names and what was basically going to happen to us.
One of the biggest ironies in the whole situation is that I was being arrested for obstructing a sidewalk when 1. The cops had TOLD us to stay on the sidewalk and 2. I was actually in the street with my bike.� It's a bullshit charge and it'll be dropped when I go to court.� The other charge of failure to obey is also bullshit since there were no warnings given, no requests to disperse, and really no officers around trying to give directions.� A few of the folks there had literally just been walking down the sidewalk when we got surrounded.� I'm still pretty pissed at how it all went down.� We were essentially surrounded and corralled with the express purpose of arresting everyone on bullshit charges.� We were not read out rights.� We were required to wait on the sidewalk in the cold for 3 or more hours while the cops got their act together.� We were being made examples of.� But on a deeper level what happened represents a turning point in the way the police deal with even the peaceful, calm and non-violent protesters.� We were not the only group arrested in this fashion that night.� I'd say 500 to 1000 people were arrested that night in the same manner--all trapped by the politics of wartime police directives.
Until the protesters decided to change things.
As we waited and waited for the cops to begin the arrests, I saw the beauty of human connectedness rise up in true peaceful glory--not only among the cold and huddling detainees, but also in the officers holding us there.� Spontaneous songs erupted.� Strangers huddled together in giant group hugs to ward off the cold.� Looks of confusion were replaced with smiles.� Handshakes replaced fists.� The essence of humanity and its struggle to come together as one lived in our gathered souls and grew in our hearts as we confronted and triumphed over this minor oppression through peaceful action.� Through peaceful action.� Through peaceful, non-violent action.� While our fairly harmless 8 hour detention in no way compares to the real struggles of oppressed people throughout the world, it remains a symbol of the power of peaceful solidarity
Peace has a bad name in this country.� We seem to have lost the ability to believe that peace is actually a good thing.� Our American culture is so sensationalistic that we need some constant drama or conflict to appease our appetite for unrest.� Mr. Rogers and Sesame street have been replaced by COPS and Survivor, a show where a group of people in a desperate struggle to survive are encouraged to compete with each other and any sense of community is lost to rivalry.� And don't even get me started on Springer and company.� NASCAR is hugely popular with 100,000 people gathered mostly to see a crash.� Microphones are placed on football sidelines so we can hear the crunch and pounding of tackles.� Walks in the woods have been lost to extreme sports.� TV and print news is conflict driven.� Even cereal and snack foods are flavor blasted. With all this action and adventure, who has time for peace?�
You begin to ask yourself whether problems can be solved peacefully, that is in a mature and calm manner.� We forget that killing people is a bad thing.� We forget that anger and aggression are negative qualities.� We forget that peace is happiness.���
Back on the arrest night the atmosphere became more festive.� Chants for peace and freedom were mirrored by other silly chants for a bathroom break.� "Let us pee, let us shit, let us rid our excrement!" went one of the chants to which the cops reacted with smiles and jabbing elbows.� Conversations broke out between protesters and police: "Are you all from San Francisco?"� "No, we're CHP.� You can tell because we"re wearing tan pants."� "What do you think of all this?"� "We'd rather just let you all go."� "Are you all getting paid overtime?"� "Yeah, but I'm tired and I'd rather be at home."� We sang funny childhood songs like the Brady Bunch Theme and Take me out to the Ball Game. When the first person was handcuffed (actually they use zip-ties) the crowd erupted in cheer.� When the first busload of people sped down the street the crowd again shouted in merriment as people on the bus smiled and tried to wave to us with zip-tied hands.� Each bus that left was sent off in a sea of cheers.�
As I got close to the front of the line to get arrested an older gentleman, named Steve I think, requested that we sing "Blowin in the Wind" as he was led off.� My friend Megan and I stuck together and were cuffed at the same, smiling at each other before being separated.� I got my Polaroid taken, my backpack confiscated and my name and ID checked.� The guy who cuffed me lead me through to all the whole process and accompanied me to the door of the bus.� He actually asked me, "Are you gong to be at the protest tomorrow?" as some kind of small talk to pass the time.
On the bus I pulled my hands loose from the zip-ties.� All the guys were at the back of the bus making jokes and laughing.� Sure enough as the bus pulled away the remaining 20 people on the street cheered for us.� The bus drove us down to 850 Bryant where a set of detention pens awaited us behind the building.� We sat outside for another hour, girls in one pen and boys in the other.� We were hungry and tired and beginning to think it was all going to take a long long time.� This was around 11:00 or so.� Not too soon they led fist the girls then the boys into the building into a holding cell.� Just before they frisked us the cops presented a trashcan as an amnesty for anything we wanted to throw away including marijuana or cocaine or weapons.� I thought that was a pretty nice gesture, but nobody took advantage.�
On the way into the holding cell we got a little plastic bag of food containing 2 cookies, 4 sliced of wheat bread, a slice of cheese and some peanut butter and jelly.� We all chowed down on what one of the cops said would be "the best cheese sandwich of your life."� Sadly, he was right.� Through our holding cell glass door we could see a few other cells including the one with some girls from our arrest.� Other cells had other protesters from different groups.� It was clear that most of the people I was arrested with got taken to Pier 27, a big makeshift police detention center set up specifically for the protests.� The guys in my holding cell were hilarious and we kept ourselves entertained with jokes and stories and by checking out the girls in the other cells.� One cell had creatively stuck a cheese art peace sign to their glass door.� I countered with a peace sign made from a paper bag stuck to the door with spit, but a cop came by and said "Take that down or we'll keep you here till 5 AM!"� We took it down, but the cop's empty threat clued us in to the fact that they were going to let us go soon.�
I got let out at about 2:00 AM.� The guys in my cell were hoping to go for a beer if we made it out before last call.� I was only issued a citation and given a court date.� No fingerprints or mug shot.� (Though I did get to keep one of the Polaroids!)� They let people out of the holding cells in groups of three, and each group was met with cheers and applause from the people in surrounding cells.� The guys in the cell next to me were there for 8 hours.� Others I talked to later had been there in solidarity for more than a day, withholding their names from the cops and getting released without a citation.
Perhaps the best part of the night was when I walked out of the "Hall of Justice."� 30 people were gathered outside and they cheered us on as the cops closed the door behind us.� We were greeted with hugs and cookies and hot tea and plenty of stories.� Most of the people outside were just supporters, there in solidarity with those who were arrested.� Once again I was pleased and amazed at the power of people to come together in support and aid.� Megan and I went back the next night with our own batch of support and food.
I have such mixed emotions about the night.� I'm still so upset at the way countless people were surrounded and arrested in San Francisco.� I'm bothered by the portrayal of peace protesters as violent, anti-American, and anti-troops.� I hate how the media talks only about how many people were arrested and not about how many people marched peacefully through the streets.� I can?t stand seeing images of cops beating people in the streets.� When will the media stop the glorification of violence?� I'm also very confused about the world and specifically my country.� I don't get what's going on.� I don't really know what we're doing in Iraq.� Nobody can give me a straight answer on that.� Even the president says we will achieve victory without really saying what the goal there is.
At the same time I feel so excited by the friendship that was built during my detention.� I am brought to tears as I remember being filled with love and hope and peace standing out on that cold sidewalk.� And here I am trying to share these tears with you.
Peace to you all.� Peace in your hearts and your minds.� Peace in your houses and businesses.� Peace in your thoughts and dreams.� Peace in your actions, words, families, friends, and enemies.� PEACE.
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