Blood in the Water

by Thompson, Heather Ann

  Many in the observers group were genuinely scared. Tomblike quiet surrounded them as they made their way through the No Man’s Land of A Tunnel, where prisoners, carrying an assortment of makeshift weapons, stood. Some of the prisoners wore football helmets, some wore shirts over their heads with eye holes cut out, and others wore bandit masks over the lower half of their ill-lit faces.19 To the great relief of the observers, though, the prisoners were clearly happy to see them. When one prisoner greeted them with an enthusiastic “Right on, Brother!” others immediately echoed his hearty salutation. Everyone breathed a huge sigh of relief.20

  A group of prisoners wearing homemade protective gear keeps watch in A Tunnel. (Courtesy of the Associated Press)

  Once the observers left A Tunnel, they were escorted into the yard through a human tunnel comprised of two long lines of men, two deep, facing outward. The yard was eerily silent. Tom Wicker could almost feel the masses pressing in on the chain of men surrounding his group, many simply trying to get a glimpse of the new arrivals. Although he knew that there were just over a thousand men in the yard, it looked to him like many more than that.21

  Since the last meeting with Oswald, Attica’s elected prisoners had moved their base of operations closer to the wall in D Yard and had built a lighted wooden gazebo-like structure over their table. They had also added additional speakers in the yard so that everything said at the negotiating table could be heard by all. As they arrived at the table, L. D. Barkley extended his hand to greet each of the observers in a formal and guarded manner. Though Barkley wanted these men to be here, he was uncertain of their motives. When Wicker nervously asked him, “How’s it going?” L.D. bluntly replied, “You tell me.”22 Interrupting this frosty exchange, Blyden grabbed a microphone pilfered earlier that day from the room where the prison band kept its equipment and exclaimed, “Brothers! The world is hearing us! The world is seeing our struggle! And here is the proof before your eyes!”23 The crowd roared its appreciation. Optimism had returned to D Yard. Blyden then asked each of the visitors to come to the mic for introductions. When it was John Dunne’s turn to speak, the inmates let out a deafening cheer, standing and clapping for him. He was stunned, realizing for the first time just how much these men were counting on him.

  After all of the introductions had been made, Arthur Eve explained that they were still waiting for other observers to arrive before the full discussions began, but that they had wanted to come in for a brief meeting now to get a sense of what stage the negotiations process had reached. They also wanted to check on the hostages. It was clear that Champ and Richard Clark, among others, were not happy to hear that there would be another delay. They had been waiting for hours to resume talks. They had little choice, however. So, after a bit more speech making, the observers walked over to see how well the hostages and the other prisoners in the yard were holding up.

  It was apparent that the waiting game, as well as lack of sleep, had taken its toll on the hostages. They all looked fairly healthy, but they were deeply stressed, and they too were counting on the observers to bring a peaceful end to their nightmare. Seeing them reminded the observers just how important it was for them to keep the state at the negotiating table. If either the prisoners or state officials decided that these talks were pointless, they feared, these men would be in immediate jeopardy.

  That there were also nearly 1,300 anxious prisoners scattered around the rest of the rutted and muddy yard also showed the observers how important it was that they help to end this standoff with the state peacefully and with clear protections for the rebels should they surrender. The observers were startled to see just how worried the men in D Yard were about their future safety as well as that of those men in C Block still in state custody. Some of the prisoners, recounting past experiences with retaliation by COs, feared that the men in C Block were being made to pay for the actions of the men in D Yard. There had even been some talk earlier in D Yard of trying to spring the men in C Block, but as Blyden and Clark firmly reminded everyone, “the block was fully secured by State Troopers and correctional officers, and this would be a deadly effort to try to take the block back.”24 So powerful was this concern for the men in C Block that Clarence Jones and Arthur Eve asked Wicker, Dunne, Badillo, and some of the others to go with them on yet another inspection of this area before heading back to the administration building to await the arrival of the rest of the observers.

  To Tom Wicker, this area of the prison was far more frightening than D Yard had been. Everywhere there were heavily armed guards, and they all seemed to be in an abysmal mood. As Wicker commented to Congressman Herman Badillo next to him, “We got better treatment inside from the men without guns than we did from those outside with guns.”25 Evidence of the previous day’s riot was everywhere—pools of water from broken pipes covered the floor, and debris littered the walkways. Even more unsettling was the desperate sound of the men calling out to the observers from the moment they stepped inside the cell block. Some were trying to get attention for medical needs. Others reported that they were being starved and beaten.26 Still others begged the observers to help them “join the brothers in D Yard.”27

  The observers were shaken by the stories they heard and saw as they walked from cell to cell. Unlike the earlier report given of C Block, it was obvious that these men were terrified, some had clearly been injured, and all were begging for help. Even the men who seemed to be in good shape physically told stories about all they had endured as prisoners at Attica. One man Wicker spoke with had been locked in his tiny cell for twenty-seven years. Another, he learned, had arrived in this hell hole because he was an alcoholic, couldn’t get help, and had one too many DUIs. These sorts of offenses were not, Wicker later told his fellow observers, what he had always thought landed men in this notorious maximum security prison, and he was stunned by the small cages they were forced to live in for decades on end. When it was time to leave, the observers were sickened and felt enormously guilty having to extricate themselves from the imploring gazes and desperate pleas of the men they left behind. To Wicker’s surprise, as he passed one cell he felt a prisoner slip him a note, whispering his hope that it could be taken to the men in D Yard. It read in part:

  Brothers, please don’t give up! This is new for them and they don’t know how to react!

  We are ok.

  Hold on as long as you can

  Big Black

  Bro. Herb

  Bro. Richie

  Carlos

  and all of you

  Right on!28

  While Wicker’s group was touring C Block and the other observers had headed back to brief Oswald, Herman Schwartz was on his way to the airport. He had decided that there was no way he was going back into D Yard after the injunction debacle, but he would go pick up lawyer William Kunstler. A graduate of Yale and Columbia, Kunstler was respected both as someone who had served in the Pacific Theater during World War II and as someone who had long been committed to a fiery defense for activists in numerous high-profile civil rights and social justice cases. Schwartz didn’t always agree with Kunstler but he was grateful he was coming to Attica in no small part because his presence would give the public even more reason to pay attention.29

  When he arrived at Attica, Kunstler had to push his way through the throngs of anxious townspeople now crowding the front lawn and then past the hundreds of heavily armed state troopers who lined the prison’s inner courtyard and inside hallways. Finally arriving in the Steward’s Room he was introduced to the assembled observers. Arthur Eve had now stepped into the position of meeting chair and facilitator and, after briefing Kunstler on the state of the discussions between the prisoners and officials thus far, he asked to hear the lawyer’s reaction. Without preamble, Kunstler stated unequivocally, as had Steel earlier, that the only issue that really mattered in terms of ending the rebellion was amnesty. Wicker wearily agreed: “That was the demand that really mattered out of them all.”30

  Every observer coul
d see that Kunstler was going to be an entirely new force with whom the state would have to reckon. He was assertive, unapologetic, and damned certain of himself. As important, he was connected. When Eve mentioned that neither Huey Newton’s nor Bobby Seale’s arrival at Attica was yet a certainty, Kunstler simply picked up a phone at one end of the room and said, “I’ll get Bobby.” After a quick call he turned to the group and announced that Bobby Seale would be there the next day. Kunstler had also successfully leaned on Oswald to let a prisoner rights activist by the name of Tom Soto join the observers group despite the commissioner’s misgivings about adding any more radicals.

  Soto was a young Puerto Rican activist from New York City who had been instrumental in a takeover of City College of New York and had come to prison solidarity work through his affiliation with Youth Against War and Fascism (YAWF). Not all of the observers knew Soto, but they knew about the dramatic protest at City College. The more moderate among them were as concerned about his joining the group as Oswald had been. Eve, in particular, worried that he’d be trouble—especially since earlier that day he’d seen Soto telling the press that the injunction Schwartz had gotten would not offer the prisoners in the yard any real protection because the state could appeal it. Seeing this, Schwartz had been furious; he went outside to the parking lot where Soto was speaking and shouted that he had no idea what he was talking about. An injunction, he spat coldly, was by consent and therefore wasn’t appealable.31

  But Kunstler believed that Soto could be an asset to the negotiations. As he pointed out to the commissioner, while it was true that Soto had not been asked for by name, the prisoners had asked for his organization, YAWF. As important, since Soto had been giving interviews outside the prison, they would know that a YAWF representative was on the premises and would expect to see him. Although Oswald caved, Eve still felt compelled to insist that Soto promise to make no more renegade statements to the public or to the prisoners in D Yard. Summoned to the Steward’s Room, Soto agreed to abide by these conditions. Soon thereafter, the entire observers committee now at the prison, plus members of the press, entered D Yard for what was to be the seventh visit of outsiders and the most important set of discussions to date.

  It was now 11:30 Friday night, still the second day of the uprising, and the men in D Yard could hardly believe their eyes as they saw the observers, now a remarkable cohort of national figures, important people, and powerful men, walking to the negotiating table to hear their demands and bear witness to their struggle. It had been an excruciatingly long day for these men and emotions were raw. Since daybreak there had been some tense moments over the injunction Herman Schwartz brought back from Vermont and with Commissioner Oswald. And Kenny Hess and Barry Schwartz had been removed to D Block after that dramatic scene with reporter Stewart Dan up at the negotiating table. Now, however, with attorney William Kunstler there, and with television cameras rolling, it was time to get down to business.

  The very first observer to grab the mic was Tom Soto. “Power to the People!” he roared with his fist raised high in the air. “Power to the People!” the men in D Yard bellowed back.32 Next was Kunstler, whose reception dwarfed Soto’s. “Pa’lante—Power to the People!” he shouted out in greeting, and the men in D Yard jumped up, yelling and clapping with an enthusiasm that stunned the other observers.33 This was clearly what Attica, at its core, was all about. These disfranchised and seemingly disposable men were determined to stand together, in unity, to make some concrete changes to their lives. Seeing this solidarity and passion took Tom Wicker’s breath away. When Kunstler could again be heard, he apologized to the men that there was not yet a member of the Black Panther Party present but he assured them that Bobby Seale would be there tomorrow. “Many of us love you,” he told the men, “and many of us understand what a shitty decrepit system we have here in New York and elsewhere….We are your brothers, we hope.”34 There was a loud cry of appreciation.

  Kunstler explained to the men that they needed to be clear about what exactly they wanted from the state, and that it had to be what they wanted and not what outsiders wanted for them. Taking the mic next, Herb Blyden impulsively asked, “Brother Bill, will you be our lawyer? Will you represent the brothers as only you can?”35 Looking a bit surprised but clearly honored, Kunstler responded, to thunderous applause and cheers, “Yes I will.”36

  Kunstler’s affirmative response worried at least one observer, Senator John Dunne. Dunne was well aware that Oswald had placed a great deal of hope in his ability “to negotiate the real demands for prison reform—while splitting off from the revolutionary demands,” and yet one of his fellow observers would now be legally representing the very men who might insist upon just such demands.37 On the other hand, Dunne remembered, from the beginning it had been the prisoners, not state officials, who had stressed their desire for “communications and understanding.” What is more, most of their demands so far had been as basic as the right to be treated as human beings rather than “as statistics and numbers.”38 In addition, these men had clearly been taking care of the hostages and had also protected the observers and the prison officials each time they entered the yard.

  Before any of the observers could think too much about Kunstler’s new role as D Yard prisoner lawyer, the sudden sounds of a violent commotion came from C Block and sheer panic set in. “They’re coming in!” someone yelled. Springing into action the security men in the yard surrounded the observers to protect them. The leaders at the table cut off all the lights in the hope that this would make it more difficult for attackers to see them. With D Yard plunged into darkness, observer Tom Wicker found himself barely able to see his hands in front of his face and was trembling with fear.39 To ward off any harm that might come to him, one of the prisoners had jumped up on the table in front of Wicker and assumed a rigid military posture—“his legs spread one arm behind his back, the other holding the butt of a tear gas launcher against his hip.” Wicker was almost overcome by the poignancy of it. Here were prisoners, men deemed animals by society, who were putting their own lives at risk in order to honor their commitment to protect the men they’d asked to come help them. Still, he could nearly taste his own terror, “as sour as vomit” in his mouth.40

  Gradually, in the deathly silence that followed, all eyes began to adjust and it no longer seemed that D Yard was under attack. Calm descended over the yard once more. Something had definitely gone wrong over in C Block, however, so John Dunne and Arthur Eve agreed to go see what it was. When they returned they brought unwelcome news: a prisoner in C Block had indeed been beaten, but they had the name of the CO who’d done it and said they would report him. Before everyone could get inflamed by this new incident of officer violence, Eve noted to the group that some additional observers had just arrived: two men from the Young Lords Party, three men from the Fortune Society, and Minister Jabarr Kenyatta, complete with turban, flowing robes, and a prayer rug draped over his arm.

  As if nothing had happened, the meeting then resumed. At the three tables that were now squeezed together for negotiations, each of the new observers took his turn introducing himself. It turned out that Kenyatta, not Soto, would be the real rabble-rouser—exhorting the men assembled before him to engage in a violent uprising against “the Man” and “the Pig.” His message, however, was out of sync with the mood of brotherhood and unity that had enveloped everyone in the yard during those harrowing minutes in the dark. Although he received applause from some isolated pockets in the yard, the vast majority seemed uncomfortable with his message. One prisoner even chastised him publicly for sowing the seeds of disunity, and another exclaimed, “I’m not here to die; I want to live. I don’t want to hear any more of that kind of talk; we’re all brothers.”41 Clarence Jones, the observer known by the men in the yard as the editor of one of their favorite publications, the Amsterdam News, actually grabbed the mic from Kenyatta’s hands. He then reminded everyone of the need to focus on concrete concessions from state officials.


  Following Jones’s lead, Kunstler looked down at the detailed notes he had been taking and commented that there were now multiple versions of the demands floating around. Taking the mic next himself, Kunstler called for a final list—one that all the prisoners, not the observers, could endorse. He and Eve both felt that the prisoners’ decision-making autonomy was sacrosanct since it was their lives on the line. As Eve put it, “We were never, ever to make any decisions for them. I mean, they made that absolutely clear.”42

  To everyone’s relief, one of the more controversial demands was dispensed with relatively quickly. Although a small number of prisoners, including Dalou and L. D. Barkley, had really hoped that the original demand for transportation to a “non-imperialist” country would be a top priority, when the men voted on it, very few thought it should be on the list and the two advocates conceded.43 As Herman Badillo later marveled, “Listening to the news reports one would have thought that the demand for transportation out of this country was an unalterable position of the inmates. But when the demand came up for a vote, it received support from fewer than 20 of the 1200 prisoners. It was not a substantial question in the negotiations.”44 The one hot-button demand that the prisoners were still unanimously committed to, however, was full amnesty.45

  Soon dawn began to break on Saturday, September 11. It had taken that long, almost the full night, for the observers to ascertain which demands were most crucial to the prisoners. At 5:00 a.m. all of the observers except for Soto, Kenyatta, and the two observers from the Young Lords Party (who wanted to “rap” with the men in the yard still longer) trudged, exhausted but wired, back up to the Steward’s Room in the administration building to compare their notes and draft a final list of demands for Commissioner Oswald’s consideration.46 This would be no easy task since there were now some serious tensions among the observers themselves. Bronx school superintendent Alfredo Mathew, for example, was furious at Kenyatta and Soto for, in his view, trying to inflame the passions of the prisoners rather than trying to defuse them. It was at William Kunstler, though, that Mathew directed his real venom. Kunstler, he insisted, was giving prisoners the false, unrealistic impression that if they held out for anything that was “just,” they could in fact get it. Mathew’s diatribe seemed to unleash a stream of vitriol among the rest of the observers for a variety of often conflicting reasons, and the group’s early morning meeting soon disintegrated into recriminations.