Deja News

On Oct. 1, 1970, page 27, New Times writer Brian
Gardam penned an article titled “Views from the Bottom: the DeSnoo
Presidency,” commenting on Syracuse University’s new student president
that fall semester, Dennis DeSnoo, described as perhaps “becoming the
first person to win an election looking cute in blue-overalls.” Gardam
mentioned that as soon as the inauguration commenced for DeSnoo, what
was previously the SU Student Government became known as the SU Student
Association, a term he described as “rich in connotations of DeSnoo
neutrality,” while also suggesting that “the new non-partisan nature is
somehow saddening.”

It’s easy to see why, as anyone who followed the
previous president, David Ifshin, was bound to look like a patty cake.
Ifshin graduated in the spring of 1970 and was then elected National
Student Association president, a job that oversaw student governments
cross-country. 

With his new rank, Ifshin flew to Hanoi and expounded
anti-war speeches that were eventually transmitted on Radio Hanoi, the
airwaves of which made their way into the cells of American prisoners
of war, including then Lt. Cmdr. John McCain of the U.S. Navy. After
McCain’s release, the two met and formed a lifelong friendship until
Ifshin passed away in May 1996 at age 47 after battling cancer.

During the 2008 presidential campaign,
Barack Obama was criticized for having an association with one of the
comrades of the late-1960s radical outfit Weather Underground, William
Ayers. McCain took a little heat for his friendship with Ifshin, who
held similar ideological views as Ayers—albeit less explosive.

During Ifshin’s presidential tenure in
1969 and 1970 at SU, he had banners hung on the facade of the Student
Government building that read “By Any Means Necessary” and “The Hottest
Places In Hell Are Reserved For Those Who, In Times Of Crisis, Do
Nothing,” and also organized protests on various hot-button issues of
the day—predominantly Vietnam. Shortly after the U.S. National Guard
killed four students at Ohio’s Kent State University on May 4, 1970,
Ifshin rallied thousands of SU students to barricade every entrance
into the campus with furniture from their dorm rooms and any other
encumbrance they could lift; the campus was shut down for five days and
graduation ceremonies canceled.

“As far as I know, we haven’t closed or shut down the
university since that day,” says Larry Seivert, current president of
the SU Student Association. “We don’t necessarily work against the
administration, we work with them to make sure the voices of the
students are heard.”

Seivert mentioned that the Student Association
Constitution has since been amended, and that the student president’s
term in office runs the calendar year—

he just began his tenure Jan. 1, 2009—instead of changing at the beginning
of the fall term as it did with the Ifshin/DeSnoo transition in 1970.

The past eight George W. Bush/Iraq War
years have been an Agent Orange flashback to the Nixon/Vietnam era, but
instead of raging against the machine and taking it to the streets, the
only shouts of injustice are coming from those typing all-caps on
blogs. “I don’t recall anything being protested on campus in the past
few years,” says Seivert of any anti-war whoops. “We’d have to register
our protests now and be a little more organized in efforts to make sure
the students are represented. But just because students are not doing
that doesn’t mean they aren’t as passionate about certain issues as
students during Ifshin’s era.”

Seivert seemed surprised by the radical revolts led by
Ifshin nearly 40 years ago right on campus, and although he prefers a
more diplomatic approach to working out issues, he believes Ifshin’s
spirit and will to inspire still pervades the Hill. “I agree with his
message and I think it’s powerful,” continues Seivert, “and even though
you don’t hear or see {demonstrative protests} in our assembly, we have
the same mission to be proactive for the student body.”

{mospagebreak}    

The late Hunter S. Thompson once stated, “I hate to
advocate drugs, alcohol or insanity to anyone, but they’ve always
worked for me.” Mike Greenstein, the Syracuse New Times’
editor-in-chief from 1971 to 1998 (albeit with numerous hiatuses in
between), had a weekly column in the early days titled “Rip-Off.” In
the Oct. 1, 1970, issue, the subhead of his column was “Daytripping
Guide to Syracuse,” which helped answer the quandary posed by the
author’s first paragraph dilemma: 

“Okay. So you’ve got two tabs of this Clear Light stuff
that is supposed to be super-dynamite, and a thin long-haired Eastern
Religion major to drop with you. And now, the problem: how to entertain
yourself. Everybody should have such problems.”

For those that heeded Greenstein’s advice as well as the
others that thought it was hip to be square and opted for Lawrence Welk
instead of the Grateful Dead, a flashback is indeed in order by
retracing the day-tripper’s steps and revisiting some Syracuse
landmarks that now exist only in the mind.

Greenstein provided this walking itinerary for those
that were on their way to a playdate with Lucy in the Sky with
Diamonds: The tour began at City Hall Square, the nerve center of the
thriving metropolis, before walking over to write your name in the
thick soot on the tables of the Sidewalk Café. Continuing south on
Montgomery Street, Greenstein then signaled to turn right at the
corner, going past the Eckel Theater before making a left onto Warren
Street and down to view the ruins of the then-recently demolished
Onondaga Hotel, which he claimed “displays urban squalor at its best.”

From there, cross over Jefferson Street to the “new” Dey
Brothers department store. Those brave enough should continue walking
down the west side of South Salina Street to stop for an
all-you-can-eat lunch at the Curry Cafeteria, featuring continental
cuisine in a cheap, sleazy atmosphere; if you happened to steal a clean
spoon from there way back when, it “may well be a collector’s item.”

After lunch, the audience participation
segment began by hitting every five-and-dime on the block—Grant’s,
McCrory’s, Woolworths and K-Mart—
and no points are awarded without the sales slip, meaning shoplifting is out.

With the exhausting part of the tour behind, Greenstein
suggested rest and relaxation time be spent in the little cafeteria
downstairs in the Public Safety Building on South State Street, where
you can “sit down, have a hot dog and rap with real pigs.” And if you
hear your house number come up on the bonafide police radio that blares
incessantly from the ceiling, there still might have been a slim chance
for you to get home quick enough to flush before your protectors
arrive. And if you can’t get back in time, you can just turn yourself
in and save them a trip because, after all, they have saved you several.