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The Whole World
is Watching!”
Chanted in the streets at the
Démocratie Convention
Chicago ‘68
Rev.
Hulls
Editorial
Now & Then
The whole point of the headline this month is that the Wall
Street Journal compared the World Trade Organization meeting
in Seattle, Nov. 30th, to the Democratic Convention in
Chicago in'68, where folks chanted; "The Whole World is
Watching". In Seattle the whole world will be meeting as
well as watching. I hate meetings. I know there is a lot to be
said for looking folks in the eye and feeling the vibe, but that
can be done in the comfort of the neighborhood tavern. It isn't
like we don't know what’s going on. Ask any seven year old,
we are destroying the basic foundations of life on the planet as
we speak, and some of us are making gobs of money doing it.
In Peter Coyote’s book Sleeping Where I Fall, he relates his
father’s words of advice in the Sixties, ‘“Capitalism is dying,
boy. It’s dying of its own internal contradictions.’ {He was,
after all, a Wall Street financier, so I listened carefully.} ‘You
think that the revolution’s gonna take five years. It’s gonna
take fifty! So keep your head down and hang in for the long
haul, because I ’ll tell you something. The sons of bitches
running things don’t give a shit about their children or their
grandchildren, and they certainly don’t give a shit about you!
They’ve paid their dues and they want to get out with theirs!
They’re gonna sell off everything that’s not nailed down to the
highest bidder. Don’t get crushed when it topples down. Take
care of yourself and your family. If you can make a difference,
do it, but there are huge forces at work here, and they have to
play themselves out according to their own design, not yours.
Watch yourself.’” Good advice. These are not stupid people.
Greedy? yes. So they won't stop trying until it is no longer
cost effective. But they don’t understand the First Rule of
Holes, taught to us by Molly Ivins, "When you find yourself
in a hole, stop digging."
Pat Buchanan said at the Republican convention a couple of
election cycles ago, ‘W e are engaged in a cultural war for the
hearts of the American people.” And even though the
Religious Right makes all the headlines and half of the laws
these days, I think we are winning that war. Who are ‘we’?
Well, us old hippies, of course, and it frosts Pat’s cookies.
‘In the Sixties, apartheid was driven out of America. We
didn’t end racism, but we ended legal segregation. We ended
the idea that you can send a million soldiers ten thousand
miles away to fight a war the people don’t support. We ended
the idea that women are second class citizens. Now it doesn’t
matter who sits in the Oval Office. Even George Bush has to
talk about child care, the environment... We were young, we
were reckless, we were arrogant, silly, headstrong. And we
were right. I regret nothing,” said Abbie Hoffman just before
he died. And he was right.
We changed the world. And since change is constant the
world changed us. I don’t march in the streets much any more,
though I support those young and old who still do for the
environment and peace. May the Cowboy Buddha bless them..
But I still believe that peace and love are better than greed and
war. And if history has proved anything it’s that the freedom
needed by the human heart is a powerful need indeed.
When the world comes to my old stomping grounds where I
worked demonstration in the streets in my twenties, I will be
there as a reporter, not as a quaker marshall standing between
screaming cops, hard hats and demonstrators. You see I kind
of believe that it’s better if we all get together, the
corporations, the governments, and especially the people, and
talk about all of this stuff. Preferably in a neighborhood
tavem. Most environmental, union, and human rights groups
oppose the World Trade Organization, and NAFTA & GATT
and I must agree, as in, they suck. But our own constitution
went through lots of changes, some good, some tragically bad,
and the same is true of the majority of deals we make with
each other, but we have to have some kind of a deal
So the world is meeting in Seattle, serious corporate types,
chamber of commence types, lobbists, rank and file unions,
global environmental activists, and street preformers, and bike
brigades, and heads of state, and the president of these united
states, and CNN and the SONICS, and Dan Rather, and
RUKUS, and Earth First! and lions and tigers and bears, oh,
my. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Are you my ride?
Saying Goodbye to Tiger Stadium
August 16, 1999. DETROIT
By Frank Walsh
After 88 years of service. Tiger Stadium will be tom down
at the end of the season. (It opened on April 20, 1912, the
same day Fenway Park opened in Boston) Today, Billie,
Rosalie, and I drove into Detroit to see the Tigers play the
Tampa Bay Devil Rays and to pay our last respects to an old
friend.
Our day started early. We drove from Linwood, MI (where
Billie and I live, on the shores of Lake Huron) to Saginaw to
pick up Rosalie at The Mustard Seed Catholic Worker House.
We stopped for lunch in Flint, worked our way through the
suburban Detroit traffic, eased into Detroit and stopped at the
Catholic Worker house there to say a quick hello to friends.
The house is practically in the shadow of Tiger Stadium, so
Father Tom Lumpkin suggested we just leave the car on the
street and save the eight bucks it would cost to park in the lot
next door.
Billie and I live winters in St. PetersbergTL and summers
in Linwood. Huffing and puffing over the bridge over the
interstate, I could not help but make some comparisons
between soon-to-be-demolished Tiger Stadium and Tropicana
Field (the new stadium in St. Petersburg, FI. and home of the
Devil Rays). "The Trop" is a modem domed stadium, sitting
in the middle of a vast parking lot, that you drive to on St
Pete's broad, palm-tree lined boulevards. With its sterile
architecture and orange-glow top (which is lit up on the
occasional night of a win), it seems fragile and almost cute.
Tiger Stadium is a bastion in comparison. It dominates the
landscape. A hulk of a building. A fort, solid and
impregnable. And there's a lot more street action in Detroit.
The vendors and early crowds mill around the bleacher gates.
Lots of noise and congestion add to a sense of excitement
about the coming game. The Tigers have been doing worse
than the Devil Rays. Neither can win games. But still people
come out — even on a Monday night, with no promotions, no
giveaways, no fireworks — to see the two worst teams in the
league. We line up to take each other's picture next to an
historical marker.
People from all over the states and, indeed the world, have
been making the pilgrimage to say good-bye to the old
stadium. The guy in line in front of us (wearing a INS tee-
shirt) came all the way from Ireland. He's lived there for the
last 10 years, but wanted to see Tiger Stadium once more
before it's gone.
I tlnnk back to when my dad first brought me here sixty
years ago. It was dark and foreboding. I was small,
surrounded by big people. It was loud. Cavernous smoky
tunnels. Men smoked R.J. Dunn and Speckled Sports cigars
openly. Jostling High, high excitement mingled with a
touch of fear. It was so dark.
And suddenly there was an explosion of green and blue
The field and the sky in the noon sun. Being pushed along by
the crowd in a daze of pure sensation. I had to fight my way
back to the double reality that this is Briggs Stadium and the
Tigers are here - Hank Greenberg and Charlie Gerhinger and
Schoolboy Rowe - and they are hitting and throwing the ball
and I am here and I am here.
Dad licked the sharp point of his yellow pencil and in his
meticulous accountant's hand began filling in his scorecard.
That's all 1 remember.
It is all brighter now. Lots of white paint and PAWS' (the
mascot) paw prints in orange on the floor to lead us this way
and that. The sky and field are not as bright at dusk as they are
at noon.The players wear black jackets without numbers so
you can't tell who is who There is more of a sense of waiting-
out the season than electric excitement. I make the trek for
beer from the nice lady with the demeanor of a longtime
hospice worker. No one comments on my Tampa Bay hat
(courtesy of Channel 32) or my Devil Ray shirt by LEE or my
Devil Ray watch or my green St. Petersburg l imes bag. We
eat hot dogs with imaginary mustard as the condiment lines are
too long.
The BIG DOC must have passed through and yanked the
DL passes from about half the Devil Ray team Old names,
not seen for a while, are back on the lineup card Rolando
Arrojo's warming up, Miguel Cairo's leading off, Fred "The
Crime Dog" McGriff's back at first. Every body's gettin'
healthy.
A couple of dozen kids in yellow come out on the field
W AS HING TO N » OREGON CO ASTS
1 9 9 9 C o rre c te d fo r P A C IF IC B E A C H E S
HIGH NOVEMBER
LOW NOVEMBER
MTS'
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OAT CHIDE TIME
1 M o n * 7:15
2 l u e s * 8:14
3 Wed* 9:05
4 Thur * 9:49
5 Fri • 10:27
6 Sat • 11:02
7 SUN • 11:33
8 Mon • 0:25
9 Tues • 1:06
lO W e d • 1:47
11 Thur • 2:28
12 Fri • 3:10
13 Sat • 3:55
14 SUN • 4:45
15 Mon • 5:40
16 Tues • 6:36
17 Wed • 7:29
18 Thur • 8:17
19 Fn . 9:00
20 Sat « 9:41
21 SUN • 10:21
22 Mon • 11:01
23 Tues • 0:12
24 Wed* 1:04
25 Thur* 1:57
26 Fn • 2:50
27 Sat • 3:45
28 SUN * 4:42
29 M o n * 5:42
30 Tues* 6:41
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AM TIDES
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7.3
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7.6
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6.9
6.8
6.8
7.0
7.4
7.9
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9.9
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8.1
8.0
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TIME
i FI
6:47
804
9:10
1007
10:56
11:42
7.1
7.1
7.3
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7.6
7.7
1203
12:31
12:59
1:28
2.00
2:38
3:25
4:25
5:43
707
8:22
9:26
10:24
11:19
8.9
8.8
8.6
8.5
8.2
7.9
7.5
7.1
6.8
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11:42 10.2
12:26
1:11
200
2:54
3:55
5:06
6:25
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9.6
9.0
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A M
TIME
FT
TIME
nr
F!
12:59 2.8
2:14 2.2
3:17 1.5
4:10 0.8
4:56 0.3
5:38 -0.1
6:17 -0.4
6:54 -0.4
7:28 -0.4
802 -0.3
8:35 0.1
9:10 0.2
9:49 0.5
10:37 0.8
11:34 1.1
12:17 3.5
1:30 3.0
2:34 2.2
3:29 1.3
4:20 0.4
508 0.5
5:55 -1.1
6:43 -1.5
7:31 -1.6
8:20 -1.5
9:10 -1.1
1004 0.6
11O0 0.0
0:35
1:42
2:41
3:32
4:16
4:56
5:34
6:09
6:43
7:17
7:52
8:28
9:09
1000
11:03
0.2
0.5
0.6
0.7
0.9
1.1
1.5
1.8
2.2
2.6
2.9
3.2
35
3.7
3.7
0:37
1:38
2:33
3:24
4:12
4:59
5:46
6:34
7:24
8:16
9:13
10:16
11:27
0:00
Ì.2
1.3
1.4
1.4
1.5
1.7
1.9
2.2
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2.7
2.9
3.1
3.0
0.6 12:42 2.8
• BIGGER THE DOT - BETTER THE FISHING «
STANDARD TIM E
PM TIDES
BOLD TYPE
Damn Yankees!!! What other sports team has had a curse
turned into a Broadway play where the team is the villian
second only to the devil? The Yankees have always been
easy to hate, they come from the arrogant center of western
cutlure, they are owned by a convicted liar with a
presidential pardon in his wallet, and they used to win
everything all the time But lately they have won, not
because they ‘bought’ a penant, but because they built a
team. Joe Torres is heart of his team. The Cubs will need
that kind of heart next year in the Series. Go Cubs!
Continued on Page 2
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