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ed a compromise that the group barricade themselves only in the President's and Vice President's suite of eight offices. The idea was accepted, and all 100 of the protestors went into the second floor offices on west side of the architecturally famous edifice. Said Rudd, "My academic career is ruined anyhow. 1 might as well stay here and win this fight." It was as if fraternity members had broken into Brigitte Bardot's bedroom. The radicals sat at the President's desk, lit up his cigars, drank his sherry, studied his library, and went through his files. Occasionally, when they found what they thought was a particularly juicy letter to some Establishment figure or Government agency they Xeroxed it. They hoped to find firm evi, dence of complicity in the Vietnam war or examples of University racism, but to their dismay found very little. early all the protestors expected the police to come to clear them out within a few hours. There were plenty of discussions but little agreement about what to do when the cops arrived. The police, about 10 of them, did show up at approximately 7:30 a.m. Panicked, about 75 of the demonstrators, including 1ark Rudd, climbed out the windows to escape, while 25 remained in the President's suite. Surprisingly, the police merely removed one of the barricades, inspected the scene, rescued a priceless Rembrandt painting, and left! Why did the police take no action? Why were there so few? On Tuesday, when the students first sat in Hamilton Hall, and President Kirk was out of town, the police were not called in instantly chiefly because Vice President Truman held the traditional view that a university is a preserve somewhat apart, a place that should be governed by reason, mutual respect, speCial sympathy for young thinkers, and its own rules, and not only by the municipal laws and the police. He was supported by Dean Coleman of the College. Dr. Truman hoped also that the protestors would discuss their grievances openly; and he wanted a chance to consult the faculty before acting. But when the black students and the Harlem militants evicted the white SDS students in the early morning hours of Wednesday morning, the situation took a new turn. By early SPRI:\'G, 1968
vVednesday morning the chief concern had become the safety of acting Dean Harry Coleman, a prisoner in his office along with Proctor William Kahn and College Relations officer Daniel Carlinsky. The numerous reports from students that there were guns and knives in Hamilton Hall was a very disturbing and key factor. Then too, since there were representatives of the more radical Harlem groups in the building, it was felt that police actions against the occupiers of Hamilton Hall could conceivably expand into a racial riot of grave proportions. When New York City's Mayor Lindsay was told of the situation, he expressed a similar concern about a possible expansion of the Columbia revolt, and sent a few of his sidekicks up to see if they could help work out a solution before police action was required. Actually, the seizure of the President's office was almost incidental in the minds of most Colum~ia officials on Wednesday morning, including the mind of President Kirk, who had returned, using 109 Low, the suite of the Dean of Graduate Faculties, as his temporary headquarters. Hence, the police who came to Columbia early \iVednesday morning were few; they confined themselves to an exploratory visit to the President's office; and they were on hand principally to see that no serious violence took place. Following their visit inside Low, they stationed themselves outside Low in front of the windows of the Presiden t's office. The threat of counteraction was a real one. Tuesday night until 3:00 a.m. a group of students varying at times from 100 to 500 stood outside and inside Hamilton Hall, angry at the seizure of the lobby and Dean Coleman. Some wanted to clear the rebels out of Haalilton, but Dr. Truman, Dean Platt, and others worked to prevent such action. The next morning, \Vednesday, the threat was even greater. The remainder of the College's 2,700 young men and numerous graduate students, arriving for classes at Hamilton Hall, were shocked to find the building barricaded, with furniture, ladders, and file cabinets, with the faces of solemn, menacing blacks behind the glass of the doors. Tumerous faculty members, who had offices in Hamilton, and were unaware of the seizure, were equally surprised and puzzled. "What on earth is
going on?" was the ubiquitous query. The morning newspapers told of the previous evening's activities but did not tell of the eviction of the whites from Hamilton or the subsequent seizure of President Kirk's office. The general reaction was one of astonishment, though anger, fear, and resentment, amusement, and even admiration were not missing. Among the comments: "Those guys are fascist hoodlums;" "You've got to admire their nerve;" "Now we'll see what kind of a man Dr. Kirk is;" "What about oLir rights?" "I hope they don't hurt Harry Coleman;" and "It's a double love-in, Southern style, you know, segregated." The displaced faculty drifted together in the large lobby of Philosophy Hall. (The majority of the faculty in the Graduate Faculties, General Studies, and Engineering, and nearly all the faculty in the various professional schools held classes almost as if nothing had happened.) Associate Dean for Academic Affairs Thomas Colahan '51 explained to the 80 professors there what had happened step by step and informed them that a meeting of ~he College Faculty had been called for 3:00 p.m. Sociologist Daniel Bell got up to suggest that several senior prohsSOl'S go into both buildings to talk to the students. A young faculty member said that he had been with the radicals most of the night and that control had passed to older outside black militants. "They have anTIS and gasoline," he said. Chemist George Fraenkel, the newlyappointed Dean of the Graduate Faculties, reported that he, Dr. Kirk, and Dr. Truman had been talking about clearing the buildings but that all were worried about Dean Coleman's safety. He said that administration leaders were in frequent telephone conversation with the rebel leaders in both buildings. Professor Bell called Vice President Truman, who said he welcomed faculty visits to the buildings, but discouraged the offering of any personal deals Or unauthorized compromises. Shortly before lunch time, New York's Human Rights Commissioner, a tall, dapper Negro named William Booth, climbed into Hamilton Hall. Outside, rock 'n roll music was throbbing out of a window in Hartley Hall on the crowd below. About 40 members of the press were on the scene. At Low 27