Blood in the Water
Page 18
Thanks to this pressure, on Sunday morning, the commissioner announced to the observers that unless the prisoners agreed to send a team of negotiators to Attica’s mess hall to meet with him and a team of observers, he was done talking. No one paid much attention to his new line in the sand, though, because all were too busy venting their own frustrations and opinions. When Clarence Jones ventured that it was high time to clarify the observers’ “role in relation to the prisoners,” it became clear just how differently they all now saw this.7 Republican state assemblyman Frank Walkley thought their task was to convince the men to give up on the demand for amnesty. Kunstler was incredulous that anyone could think that the prisoners would be adequately protected by what they’d been offered, and said the idea that anyone thought that made him feel like he was in Alice in Wonderland. He then stated unequivocally, “They must be told the absolute, utter truth as to what this situation is.”8
Clarence Jones agreed that the prisoners needed to be told the full facts, as did Wicker, who argued that the observers had “the responsibility to give them [the] chance to make a clear choice.” Yes, agreed one of the representatives from the Young Lords, they needed the opportunity to think through whether they really needed “a confrontation with the state.”9 All in the room recognized, though, that time was in short supply. Shaking his head, Kunstler said despondently, “I am utterly sick at heart that those men will die and they’ll die because of me.”10 Suddenly realizing exactly what had to be done, he stated firmly, “The Bobby Seale episode is irrelevant….Whatever reason he gives to the public is immaterial….We should all go down and tell them the truth.”11
Observer Julian Tepper looked shaken by this pronouncement. Quietly he shook his head and said to the group, “I’ll be completely honest. I’m afraid to go back in.”12 He elaborated: “There’s going to be no resolution [because the] Administration puts us in an untenable position [and] Bobby Seale has put us in an untenable position.”13 Most in the room seemed to agree with him. As the group grew more desperate about its diminishing options, Clarence Jones came back to the question of whether prison superintendent Mancusi might be transferred out of Attica. Might that be a significant enough concession to persuade the prisoners to abandon their demand for amnesty? Others suggested asking the governor to come to Attica to personally assure the prisoners that he would allow no reprisals. And then the group returned to the importance of amnesty—full stop.14 But this simply wasn’t on the table, State Senator John Dunne reminded everyone. The prisoners must be made to understand, he went on, that “a political point has been proven….More has been accomplished in terms of penal reform in the last three days than ever before.”15 With this pronouncement, and at the request of his fellow observers, the state senator headed out at 10:35 a.m. to find Robert Douglass. Maybe they could work on him to get the governor to Attica. Rockefeller could at least offer his word that the men wouldn’t be harmed if they surrendered.
Less than ten minutes later, Senator Dunne returned to the Steward’s Room, but with Norman Hurd, not Douglass, in tow. They were met with a great deal of grumbling since no one believed Hurd had any power to do anything at Attica, to which Oswald, still sitting at the table, said defensively, “Hurd is sent here as the Governor’s personal representative.”16 Even Dunne felt the need to press the commissioner on this. Did the commissioner feel that Hurd “has as much power as Douglass?”17 Clearly offended, Hurd told the group that he was Rockefeller’s official representative and Douglass was there only “to be of assistance.”18 “Maybe,” said Herman Badillo, but “Douglass got me here, [so it’s] important to have him.”19
By 10:50 Sunday morning, Robert Douglass was finally standing before the observers and found himself inundated with their questions and concerns. Arthur Eve explained to Douglass that the observers were unanimous in their conviction that, at the very least, the governor should come to the prison because without a peaceable resolution, “hundreds and possibly thousands will be killed.”20 Badillo also tried to persuade Douglass how important it was for Rockefeller to come to Attica. He echoed Eve’s concerns, telling Douglass he feared how places like Harlem and the Bronx would respond to a retaking, and assuring him that they did not expect the governor to go into the yard and talk to prisoners; they just wanted him to come, because doing so would underscore his commitment to protecting the men when they surrendered.
Kunstler put the matter more bluntly: “If the governor does not come, he is condoning a massacre.”21 Other observers agreed. The members of law enforcement assembling outside of the prison are “no more than animals…straining at the leash….There will be a bloodbath…when those beasts are turned loose on the people out there,” one said.22 Clarence Jones also believed that a “massacre of prisoners is about to take place,” and he implored Douglass to “spend time instead of lives.”23 “I hear you, I understand,” Douglass told the group as he headed out the door, presumably to call his boss.24
Badillo was still unsettled and suggested that, since Douglass might not persuade the governor how imperative it was that he come to Attica, perhaps it was time for the observers to enlist the aid of the American people. In a press release, they could explain just how dire the situation had become, and then ask citizens to put pressure on the governor to oversee personally a peaceful end to the standoff. Secretly, Dunne doubted that even this pressure would make Rockefeller budge. In his opinion, the governor had his eyes on the presidency of the United States, and for that reason he couldn’t afford to look soft on “criminals” in this standoff at Attica.25 Nevertheless, Dunne did not stand in the way of those trying to pen a national press release.26 By 11:00 a.m. a draft had been finalized, which they agreed must also be taken to the gate in A Block in order to get the prisoners’ approval of its wording:
The committee of observers in Attica prison is now convinced a massacre of prisoners and guards may take place in this institution. For the sake of common humanity, we call on every person who hears these words to implore the Governor of this state to come to Attica to consult with the observer committee, so we can spend time and not lives in an attempt to resolve the issues before us. Send the following telegram immediately to Governor Nelson Rockefeller in New York City: “Please go to Attica to meet with the observers committee.”27
The men in D Yard did approve, but the observers could see the desperation on their faces and agreed to take their subsequent request immediately back to Oswald: that one black and one Puerto Rican reporter come to the yard within a half hour, along with five observers, one of whom should be a man with “real credibility” with the outside world to show that the hostages were still okay and that the men really wanted to end their uprising safely, as well as with meaningful changes to the institution.
Few had much faith that the press release would make a difference. Nevertheless, as Wicker put it, it was important to make “the last effort, even if it proved only a hopeless gesture to decency and humanity.”28 Wicker’s own commitment to making “the last effort” was quickly tested when it became clear that he and Dunne were the observers the group as a whole agreed met the criterion of “credibility with outsiders.” It would be up to them to go back in the yard at the prisoners’ request. Senator Dunne said, unequivocally, that he would not go. That left Wicker, the New York Times journalist, and though he felt he had to do it, he was petrified. Seeing his fear, Clarence Jones stepped up and said that he would go with him. Wicker felt relief wash over him at this “considerable gesture of courage and friendship.”29 No sooner had each man made his peace with the decision to walk into a terrifyingly uncertain situation than Oswald arrived to inform them that absolutely no more visits to the yard would take place. Moreover, he had already sent Deputy Commissioner Walter Dunbar to the A Tunnel gate with his final statement to the prisoners in D Yard, which read:
As Commissioner of Correctional Services, I have personally met with you several times in areas under your control for the purposes of insuring the immedi
ate safety of employee hostages, and the safety of all others concerned during the difficult situation. As you all know, food, clothing, bedding, water and medical care have been available to you. You have been able to meet with outside observers of your choice and representatives of the news media. A Federal Court Order was obtained promptly to guarantee that there would be no administrative reprisals; your representatives have been able to ascertain that no mistreatment of inmates has occurred.
I urgently request you to release the hostages unharmed, now, and to accept the recommendations of the committee of outside observers which recommendations were approved by me, and join with me in restoring order to this institution.
Only after these steps are taken am I willing to meet with a five member committee chosen by you to discuss any grievances you may have and to create a mechanism by which you can be assured that the recommendations I have agreed to are implemented.
All possible efforts have been made to deal fairly with your problems and grievances and to resolve the present situation. All good faith is embodied in the proposed agreement I signed which is in your hands. It is in the interest of all concerned that you now respond affirmatively to this request.30
Dunbar handed the statement to Richard X Clark through the A Tunnel gate, telling him the men had fifteen minutes to respond.
Clark walked back into D Yard with a bad feeling and handed the statement to the men with microphones at the negotiating table, whereupon they read it in both English and Spanish to the restless crowd. As the words of Oswald’s statement sank in, particularly the sentence “I urgently request you to release the hostages unharmed, now, and to accept the recommendations of the committee of outside observers…[which] were approved by me,” the men in D Yard felt blindsided. As Clark later explained, “what hurt us most was that the observers had agreed to it without consulting us….Instead of reporting our word to the outside, we saw that they were allied with the state.”31
As soon as the observers back in the Steward’s Room read Oswald’s statement they too exploded. Arthur Eve was particularly incredulous. Shaking his head, he demanded to know why Oswald had told the prisoners such a thing; why had he suggested that the observers and the state were in cahoots, and thereby jeopardized the safety of the observers? Eve was so overwrought he broke down into tears.32
Despite feeling that Oswald had made an observer trip into the yard even more dangerous than it already was, Eve and the others now insisted that they be allowed back in to make things right. Forced by the sheer passion in the room to listen to one eloquent plea after another about how important it was to honor their commitment to the men in D Yard, to do anything they could to avoid further angering a group of men holding other men’s lives in their hands, the commissioner finally agreed to consult with his higher-ups about the possibility of one last visit. A few minutes after he left, however, the observers began to sneeze and their eyes watered as the faint smell of tear gas entered the room. Panicked, they ran to the windows, wondering if Oswald had just been stalling them and the dreaded attack was actually beginning.
It was another false alarm; someone had dropped a canister of gas while unloading a truck outside.
The observers sat back down, to worry and to wait. Talking among themselves, they returned again and again to the importance of getting Rockefeller to come to Attica. Tired of waiting on word from Douglass, Badillo said that, somehow, they had to speak with the governor directly. That was their only hope. Wicker agreed, but couldn’t imagine how they would pull it off. At which point John Dunne pulled a small black address book from his breast pocket, saying, “I’ve got his number.” Within minutes, Wicker, Badillo, Dunne, and Clarence Jones managed to reach the governor at his lush Pocantico Hills estate in Westchester County.
To Wicker’s surprise, Rockefeller greeted each of them warmly, and after a few pleasantries, the foursome launched into their pitch: the observers were extending the governor an official invitation to come to Attica to meet with them. Wicker took pains to make clear to Rockefeller that he was being asked to meet with them and them alone, not the prisoners. Rockefeller’s visit would serve two critical purposes: first, it would show the men in the yard—prisoners and hostages alike—that the governor cared for their plight; second, it would indicate to the men in D Yard that they had the governor’s personal assurance that the twenty-eight points would be honored and that they would come to no harm if they surrendered. Both of these things would immeasurably bolster the observers’ efforts to end the stalemate peacefully.33 But as Wicker and the others made this case, Rockefeller’s “ebullient manner vanished to be replaced by a crisp executive style.”34
Even Republican state senator Dunne couldn’t budge Rockefeller. “I can’t grant amnesty, so why come, Johnny?” the governor asked. “Come for the psychological reason; it might tip the scales,” Dunne urged.35 But this argument went nowhere. After more than an hour of conversation that ranged from the logical to the emotional to outright pleading and begging, it was finally clear to the observers that, although he never came out and said it, Rockefeller was not going to come to Attica. According to Wicker, his “tone was brisk, his argument carefully organized, as if his mind had been made up.”36
That was, in fact, the case. The observers’ call had come just as Douglass had been discussing this very issue of a visit to Attica with the governor. After summing up the observers’ various arguments for the importance of the governor’s presence at the prison, Douglass had then expressed his own opinion that he did not think this was a good idea. Douglass knew that there had been some talk, “confidentially,” back on Friday night that the governor might go to Attica on Saturday, but he had been dissuaded then and must be again.37 Trusting his advisor, Rockefeller had spent the rest of the phone call with Douglass discussing how to word an official statement explaining his decision not to visit, and not to grant amnesty either.38 It was just as Douglass signed off with the governor that the call came in from the four observers.
Knowing their options were running out, the observers once again began pressuring Oswald to let them back in the yard. At 2:45 p.m. Sunday, Eve, Kunstler, Kenyatta, Ortiz, Paris, Soto, Florence, Wicker, and Jones made their way to A Gate. With them came two newsmen, Rudy Garcia of the New York Daily News and Dick Edwards of Jones’s Amsterdam News, as well as their camera crews. A harried Oswald met them there and, after fifteen minutes, finally agreed to let them enter the yard. First, however, they were each handed waivers they had to sign to the effect that neither they, nor their “heirs and estate,” could hold the state of New York liable “for any and all physical injuries or damages to me personally which may result from my voluntary participation in these negotiations.”39 “Suddenly, I was scared to death,” Arthur Eve later remembered. “I saw what the state was willing to do. Sacrifice me, a state legislator.”40
At 3:45 p.m., the locks on the gate to A Tunnel and No Man’s Land finally disengaged, and the group met up with Richard Clark. They could feel the animosity thick in the air. Jabarr Kenyatta opened nervously with a hurried explanation that the observers had not known anything about the statement that Commissioner Oswald sent in earlier that day. “Nothing at all,” Wicker chimed in. Without even looking at the men, Richard Clark said in a tight voice, “Some of the brothers would love to kill you guys.”41 But once the observers arrived at the negotiating table, it seemed to them that the masses awaiting their arrival were not all that hostile; in fact, they seemed grateful just to be hearing news from the outside. Clark opened the proceedings by stating that the observers had assured him that they had not been behind the Oswald document. He read the statement aloud to his fellow prisoners and asked if these men would agree to Oswald’s most recent terms of surrender. “Hell, no!” they roared back at him from the muddy yard.42
The crowd’s real interest now was in the reporters who had arrived. These men were here not only to capture what the men in the yard felt needed saying, but also to interview the hostages
so that the public could see they were alive and well and, therefore, that state officials needed to keep the talks going.43
Prisoner Richard Clark joined reporter Rudy Garcia as well as Tom Wicker as they went from hostage to hostage. The first officer Wicker approached, Captain Frank “Pappy” Wald, minced no words as he looked into the camera. “We’ve had nothing but fine treatment, this is both medically, food, and we’re living as good as the rest of the people in the yard, if not a little better at times.”44 When he was asked if he wanted to say anything to Governor Rockefeller, he did. Passionately, in fact. He pleaded with the governor to do “anything you can” to try to save lives.45
The hostages, standing near their mattresses and sleeping bags provided by the prisoners, speak to the news team. CO Frank “Pappy” Wald is in the foreground. (Courtesy of the Associated Press)
Then hostage Frank Strollo, whose brother Tony Strollo was among the armed state troopers surrounding the prison, chimed in: “We all have been treated 100 per cent, been fed well, gave us blankets, slept on mattresses while they slept on the ground, medication was given to us when they didn’t get any.” Strollo went on, “He [the governor] should give them complete amnesty, that’s one thing we’ve got to have, complete amnesty….We talked it over, the 38 of us, we all agree, we’d give them complete amnesty, that’s what we want Rockefeller to give them.”46
Sergeant Edward Cunningham, a CO who had a reputation of being particularly hard on prisoners, almost yanked the microphone from Wicker’s hand to express his agreement on this point and to remind anyone listening of the stakes in this standoff: