Every now and then I go out on my veranda, take out my false teeth and my glass eye, and sit there with my mayonnaise jar full of white lightening.
Pretty soon I begin my senile cackling over incidents in my past.
I want to recite one I may have told you before.
If you’ve heard this one already, try and stop me.
I was doing the press conference for an anti-busing march. I paid all my own expenses, as always, including the trip to the city where the march was being held, which was not next door. As always, I also joined in the march.
Brave policemen started to beat some of the WOMEN on the march. I walked up to one as if I was going to protest, then jumped under his truncheon and knocked him out cold.
They took me to the station and got a call. Somebody told them they were about to arrest the PUBLICITY MAN for the march for cold-cocking one of their cops who was beating up women.
The newspapers would never report one more incident of police violence against a right-wing demonstration. They often don’t mention such protests at all unless there is a press conference.
At the press conferences, you hand out press releases which means most of their writing has already been done for them. A major demonstration doesn’t matter. But a major protest AND a press conference cannot be completely ignored.
But I could have gotten headlines if they had arrested me that time.
The cops hated letting somebody go who had knocked out a cop. But I understand they got a call from the mayor himself, “Don’t you DARE arrest him! I don’t want any record of this!”
I, of course, would have liked nothing better than to be arrested, even though it might have cost me my Federal job. Fighting is on the few offenses a Federal employee can be fired for, much less hitting a cop.
So there I sat. The cops hated me and I kept grinning at them.
They did NOT offer me a ride home.