Words from Rusti Woods Eisenberg

How Steve Kindred Became My Friend 

and Edward Levi Began His Road to Attorney-General

A personal reminiscence from the “second sit-in”

Historical Background: (for those who don’t really know about the “first sit-in)

In 1965-66 the Selective Service was running out of young men to send to Vietnam.

Believing that student deferments were an impediment to meeting quotas, General Hershey hit upon the idea of asking the colleges to compile a class-rank and forward them to Selective Service.  Male students, who were at the bottom of the class, would then lose their students deferments. This would entail no loss to society, since these were presumably the dumbest men in college, or so it seemed to General Hershey

While the administration of the University of Chicago had never compiled a class rank and would have been educationally opposed, it was prepared to comply without protest. The ethos of the University centered on the ideals of the Greek “polis” and the

“community of scholars.” Yet top administrators could not comprehend how making its C students vulnerable to the draft and possible death in Vietnam might undermine both. It was a gap of understanding that was never closed.

There was nobody, who could articulate the sense of absurdity, the violation of community and democracy, the abuse of trust with more humor and passion than Steve Kindred. And nobody had a more vibrant sense of how wrong it was that any young man—college student or otherwise -should be compelled to risk his life to force people in a foreign land to follow American preferences.

This brought us “the first sit-in” led by Steve, which eventually involved hundreds of University of Chicago students sitting in the Administration building and bringing the college to halt. That demonstration triggered similar protests on campuses across the country and added fuel to the national anti-draft movement.

 

The “Second Sit-in” (which was really a “Study-in”)

Eventually the first sit-in ended with a University commitment to reconsider the issue. One year later, when that reconsideration proved inadequate, Steve and others called for a symbolic “study-in” inside the Administration building.  Since this was Exam week, the plan was for a non-obstructive, short demonstration. We would enter the building with our books and do the preferred U. of C. thing: read. It was to be a reminder of our continued concern.  Before entering the building there was a short rally at which Steve, our friend Jeff Blum and I encouraged people to participate. To make ourselves heard, we used megaphones. 

With a year to brood, the Provost of the University Edward Levi had assumed responsibility for maintaining “law-and-order” in the polis, where there was to be no more coddling of youth. As we entered the building, stern University officials demanded that we vacate the premises immediately or face disciplinary action. Stunned by this overreaction, people spread out to different sides of the first floor, huddling in groups and trying to figure out what to do.

Jeff and I were separated from Steve. Suddenly one of Levi’s assistants approached with the news that “Edward” was  “fed up” with us and with “Kindred.” If the three of us didn’t vacate the building quickly, we could be expelled. Really? For a “study-in?” At that point panic set in, at least for me. I had just completed four years of college, financed by my parents and the thought of my father’s wrath overshadowed everything else. Jeff was a year younger, but had his own understandable concerns. Faced with this unexpected threat, we left.

Meanwhile Steve and some fifty other ”study-inners,” several of them new to protest, had chosen to stay. Shouldn’t we have looked for Steve and discussed our situation with him, before leaving the building? And what was our obligation to fellow students, whom we had urged to participate? Slowly these questions dawned. However, such concerns were rapidly eclipsed by Provost Levi’s decision to take disciplinary action against the two of us for the obscure crime of  “illegal use of megaphone.”

Thus began “Edward’s’ habit of inventing rules and cracking down on 20-years olds, who were still innocent enough to be shocked by American devastation of Vietnam. And still loyal enough to the University of Chicago and its ethos to believe it could act morally

Forty- six years later, the Administration Building was renamed the Edward H. Levi Hall and the University News would publish this item: “Levi… led the University through the unrest of the Vietnam War, in what came to be seen as a model throughout the nation for a measured response to student anti-war protests.

In reality, Edward Levi became “a model” for Richard Nixon of a University Administrator unafraid to punish students, without regard for academic niceties. So began his ascent onto a national stage.

Unlike Steve and the others, Jeff and I obtained a reprieve, when members of the college disciplinary committee found the alleged crime of “illegal use of megaphone” to be non-existent. And then weirdly, having been cleared of all charges and now on track for graduation, I was awarded a prize in US history and invited to a ceremony.

I went off to the ceremony, feeling not so proud.  But then to my surprise, there was Steve Kindred, sitting in the audience smiling brightly. “Why was he there?” Nobody was giving him a prize. I recall apologizing and his response: “I’m not angry. I know that we’re different. Academics are important to you and don’t matter to me in the same way.  And I’m happy for your prize. Thought I should come.”

It was an unexpected lesson in tolerance and generosity that has remained with me through all these years.  And it was the Steve Kindred I will always remember.

Rusti Woods Eisenberg ‘67