Ceremony marks 40th anniversary of Kent State shootings


By Kathy Antoniotti

Akron Beacon Journal

KENT

They expected about 800 people to attend the two-hour memorial to mark the 40th anniversary of the shootings at Kent State.

But on Tuesday, authorities estimate more than 1,000 people crowded the hill and the Commons area where Ohio National Guardsmen advanced on the students. Those gathered Tuesday came from across the state and the country to remember the 13 students who were either killed or wounded May 4, 1970.

Barry Levine, who has never publicly spoken of the events of the May 4 tragedy, said he came from California to be the voice of his friend, Allison Krause, who died in his arms with three bullets in her back.

“Allison Krause was as bright as they come. Her laughter used to dance beneath the branches of these trees,’’ he remembered.

The somber crowd stood quietly as a candle procession entered the Commons. Many shed tears as white doves were released with the toll of the Victory Bell — one for each of the 13 KSU students and two for the Jackson State University students who were slain during an anti-war demonstration 10 days later in Jackson, Miss.

Craig Blazinski, who chaired the May 4 Task Force in 1977, displayed a handmade button from that era that urged Kent State administrators to cancel classes so students could attend the memorial each year.

“That’s all we asked for back then, but they wouldn’t even give us that,’’ said Blazinski, who lives in Oregon and attends the memorial every few years.

Carole Vargo remembered that she was in her dorm room in Verder Hall when students were told classes were canceled because of the melee on Blanket Hill when Ohio National Guardsmen opened fire on protesting students.

Vargo, of Columbus, said it was the second time she has returned for the memorial, and with good reason.

“It’s the first time the university seems to be embracing — sort of like validating it — rather than hoping it goes away,’’ said Vargo, who graduated in 1973.

Through tears, she said the shootings taught her that “things can change in a moment. That’s been the mantra of my life.’’

Michael Polichuk, a 1971 Kent State graduate, pointed to a spot on the hill about 100 yards from where he stood Tuesday to where he was 40 years ago when guardsmen launched tear gas and advanced. At the time, Polichuk said, he didn’t believe the bullets in their guns were real.

“In a civil society, you are given the impression, when government forces come to maintain order, that they don’t have live ammunition. We were wrong,’’ he said.