Every year on this date, I’ve written about the shootings at Kent State University, now 55 years ago. I lived close to KSU, about 20 miles away. I was 17 at the time and have always maintained that I was the first in my school to know about it because I was out riding around, having a couple of smokes.
My uncle and others from our little town were in the National Guard that day. Other young people from home were students at KSU. I still have the jacket my uncle wore that day.
Over the past 15 years on Facebook, I’ve written what amounts to a small book. I had an unusual perspective on what happened—not just because my uncle was there or because I knew students at KSU, but because I worked on the school newspaper and covered the political groups on campus.
Since it was always a topic of discussion, and because of my work on the paper, I had access to people involved and interviewed many of them. After 55 years, what’s left to say?
Some compare this to the Boston Massacre 200 years earlier. The second president of the United States, a nation’s founder, defended the British in court, and all but two were found innocent. The other two were guilty of reduced charges. The defense argument was similar to that of the National Guard.
But there really isn’t a comparison. The first led to the founding of this country. May 4th was indeed a tragedy—death almost always is. Some from my generation feel it led to ending the war in Vietnam. It didn’t. The war dragged on for three more years, followed by an almost Afghanistan-type withdrawal a couple of years later.
I learned a lot from talking to people and recording their stories in print. I never accepted that the Guard was solely at fault. It is also unfair to suggest that the students were at fault. I spent my first year at Ohio State and participated in protests.
Today, we see campus protests; some students do not even know what is being protested. There’s speculation that some are paid, and others are curious and hanging around.
For me, protesting wasn’t so much about calling for an end to the war. I liked to be where things were happening. I should be ashamed to say this, but I liked throwing rocks and busting (my wife hates when I use that word) things. But at the last protest I attended, a Columbus police officer changed my mind. Not in a bad way. They were busting heads with batons and billy clubs. But when it was over, I talked to him. He had a bandaged face from being hit by a brick the night before.
The reality for me was that I wasn’t anti-war. That doesn’t mean I favored war. I find it abhorrent but, at times, necessary.
My last active involvement was five years ago. The 50th anniversary was set to have Jane Fonda as a featured speaker. I, Ohio’s Secretary of State, and others opposed her coming, not because we opposed free speech, but because we felt the event should be about remembrance and healing. But her appearance and the rest of the speakers would open old wounds. And to those who claim she apologized for her actions in North Vietnam, she did not.
For me, it was mostly a writing campaign. Fonda did not speak live on campus, but not because of anything I did. The 2020 pandemic wiped out the ceremony.
There was a virtual program, but I didn’t participate. Based on a personal online debate with the sister of one of the wounded students organizing the program, I know there was no intention of reconciliation. The listed speakers were there to assign blame for the “murders” 50 years earlier.
By the way, the picture is of a bullet hole in a metal sculpture by Taylor Hall, where the shootings occurred and where I had all of my journalism classes.
After over five decades of talking and writing about it, I’m done—forevermore. I could say a lot more, but why? I mentioned fault early on. Governor Jim Rhodes bears responsibility for what happened, in my opinion. I could explain why I believe this, but I won’t. But fault is less important than what happened, and I hope it never happens again.
