Word: walked
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...Boston Clamshell headquarters Friday afternoon, they distributed gas masks. But it didn't seem immediate, not in a third-floor Central Square walk-up office next to a rundown Woolworth...
Before the first assault, you can walk right up to the fence and chat with the police. They won't chat back. They won't even look at you, and orders are obviously orders, pretty much the way it stays all weekend, their inactivity ends the minute the fence is threatened. One aging flower child ("My name is earth") makes a preliminary assault, and for the first time the Mace comes out. They point the small brown bottles at your eyes and spray, and suddenly you forget about cutting any fence...
...personal as Mace--as a matter of fact, clouds of it drift back on the police, who struggle to find their masks. But it is effective, tearing your eyes, stinging your nose, leaving a taste of burned chemical in your mouth. And everyone is shouting, "Walk, Walk," but it's awful hard not to run because this is tear gas. Sporadic fence-cutting continues, and the police don't like it. They've been on duty all morning, and they want to disperse this crowd, not Mace them one-on-one and listen to taunts...
...Nixon Administration entered office determined to end our involvement in Viet Nam. But it soon came up against the reality that had also bedeviled its predecessor. We could not simply walk away from an enterprise involving two Administrations, five allied countries and 31,000 American dead as if we were switching a television channel. For a great power to abandon a small country to tyranny simply to obtain a respite from our own domestic travail seemed to me-and still seems to me-profoundly immoral and destructive of our efforts to build a new and ultimately more peaceful pattern...
...garden, whispering softly (in case the bushes were bugged). Then, to pass the time, I thought of taking a drive. After ten minutes, restless and wanting to confer more privately with Haig, I asked the driver to stop the car at a place where Haig and I could walk. He pulled over at a spot where the trees lining the road suddenly opened up to reveal a small lake. Picnickers were spreading out their food on checkered tablecloths; couples were lying under the trees. The sky had the mellow blue of the early French autumn. And none of these Parisians...