I Lived inside the Campus Revolution

I Lived inside the Campus Revolution

I Lived inside the Campus Revolution

I Lived inside the Campus Revolution


The blackest day in my twenty-eight years was Tuesday, June 17, 1969. Early that morning, on a downtown Los Angeles street, I met my FBI "handler"--one of several federal agents who had been my contacts during more than four years of campus turmoil and confrontation.

I was hustled into a car. In silence, we drove a circuitous route to Los Angeles' monolithic Federal Courthouse Building, parked in a secluded stall in its subterranean garage, and entered the building through a back door. Other agents were waiting. We took a freight elevator to the seventh floor--and walked, for security reasons, to the eighth. Quickly, I was ushered into a courtroom antechamber. On the other side of its massive oaken door the five-member Federal Subversive Activities Control Board (SACB) had, only moments before, opened two days of hearings. Once I stepped through that door and into the courtroom, I would be revealed--as an FBI student undercover informer.

"Wayne," my FBI handler said quietly, using my undercover name, "are you absolutely sure you want to go through with this?"

I nodded. I had made my decision. More exactly, time and circumstances had made it for me. Nonetheless, it had been made. I would testify.

My handler's concern--as both of us very well knew--was mere stage business in what, for the government's scenario writers and directors, has become a smash succession of sociocomedies. For want of a better name they are called "surfacings."

Their scripts have the look-alike sameness of Xerox copies. Their settings are likewise. The play is called to curtain by a sergeant-

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