Allison Krause
Shot & Killed on May 4, 1970
The following are excerpts from an interview with the Krause family.
"I remember once when Allison came in from her work at St. Elizabeth's
Hospital for the Insane, she was wearing a big smile and said she did
it. Neither Doris nor I knew what she was referring to, but Allison was
ecstatic. We later learned that she had just got a guy to talk who hadn't
spoken to anyone in fifteen years." These were the words Arthur Krause
used to describe the unselfish qualities of the daughter killed at Kent
State in 1970. "The thing that I hope people remember Arthur and Doris Krause have mixed feelings about the 1979 settlement. "We
don't want the damn money . . we want the truth. If we had wanted the money
I would have accepted the one and a half million dollar bribe I was offered
to drop the civil suit, offered to me in the presence of Peter Davies in 1971.
We want the facts out about how the four died. We aren't afraid of the truth.
We aren't the ones who have been saying 'no comment' for the past ten years."
Arthur and Doris Krause hope the movie would generate more of the same hate
mail they have received for the past ten years. "They always point out that
my daughter had gravel in her pockets . . . that this was the rationale for
killing her . . . why didn't they throw gravel at her?" "The political climate
is very similar to that in 1970," Krause added, "Kent State, 1970 means we
no longer have our daughter, but it also means something to all Americans
. . . Our court battles establish without a doubt one thing. There is no constitution.
There is no Bill of Rights."
Eulogy
Constantly she was surrounded by boys and girls who came not only to
tell her their problems, but to laugh with her and bask in her quick wit
and charm. Allison possessed a rare trait. She could move among many groups
of students and always exhibit tolerance for the views of each group in
which she participated. Wen baited by adults, some young people respond
with anger and bitterness, if not violence. Allison expressed a passive,
stoic quality, as if recognizing the injustice of name-calling, as if
realizing the illness of the person filled with hate. Allison was filled
with contradictions as any complex person is. She read Hermann Hesse and
worked in a bagel factory after school. She could wear a fur coat one
day and the following day blue jeans and a bush jacket . . . of the students
I have met in five years of teaching, in six years of college, and of
the people I have met when working in factories, gas stations, shops and
offices, I cannot think of a better person than Allison Krause. In her
own quiet way, she symbolized the best in young people.
Richard R. Taworski John F. Kennedy High School, Silver Spring, Maryland
Eulogy by Barry Levine
The following personal account was prepared by Barry Levine, Allison
Krause's boyfriend, for Arthur and Doris Krause in 1971. This excerpt
attempts to answer Doris' question to Barry on May 5, "What happened?"
Sunday May 3
Sunday was a peaceful day. The sun was warn and the breeze gentle. Allison
spent the day quietly strolling the campus, sometimes laughing and joking,
sometimes seriously discussing the past two days of disturbances on the
campus. It was late afternoon when we decided to walk to the front campus
and fraternize with some guardsmen.
Upon arriving, one particular guardsmen caught our eye. He stood quietly
alone, a lilac in his gun barrel. Taking me by the arm, Allison walked
over to him. His name was Myers, and unlike many of the soldiers we had
met that day, Myers wore a pleasant smile, and when he spoke, he did
so with a gentle compassion. He said he did not want to be guarding the
campus, but when asked why he didn't leave, he looked at the ground and
shyly said he couldn't.
Disturbed at the pleasant rapport one of his men was enjoying with us,
an officer slowly strolled over and placed his arm around Myers' shoulder.
As we watched inquisitively, Myers' face tightened up, his back straightened
and his smile completely disappeared. The officer, yelling in Myers'
ear, ordered him to identify himself and his division. Myers did so,
and as we watched the fear swell in the young Guardsmen's eyes, the officer
began
Realizing the officer would merely throw the lilac away, Allison grabbed
it from his hand and gave him a look of disgust, but he only turned his back.
As the officer walked away, Allison called after him Just a few gentle words coming from her heart, there was no profundity
intended As one amongst many she stood and screamed that the war should end,
and national troops were ordered to shut her up. So she screamed louder,
and would not be shut up, so they shot her; for that is how intolerables
are dealt with. And in time, out of four, she alone stood out. Those who
value life have memorialized her, and those who hold values higher than
life have discredited her. However, through all the rumors and all the
lies, her plea for sanity rings true. Around the world her words have
been heard and will be remembered: 'Flowers are better than bullets' In
her name hundreds of thousands marched through the streets of America,
Canada and Europe. For the first time in its history the gates at a U.S.-Canadian
border were closed and locked by hundreds of Canadian students, who, while
not knowing her, mourned her death.
And in her memory- Mention her name throughout the world, and heads will turn The sun was shining bright this spring morning as Allison left a friend's
room in a nearby dorm where she had been stranded the previous night.
As we walked across the campus, back to our own dorms to eat lunch, I
noticed an enormous amount of life and joy in her eyes, despite the anger
and terror from the previous night. We had resolved a personal problem
earlier in the morning, and ironically on this morning Allison was happier
than I had ever seen her.
We continued, laughing and joking as we walked, unaware that the exact
path we were walking would minutes later be traveled by marching soldiers.
As we climbed the hill towards the pagoda, we agreed to meet after lunch
on Blanket Hill to participate and going our separate ways to eat lunch.
After lunch I walked to where we agreed to meet and waited. Standing
at the top of Blanket Hill I watched angered students gather, and one
hundred yards from them I saw men armed with rifles standing and waiting.
Across the commons, Allison left the dormitory and crossed the field to
the gathering students. She walked in front of the crown, her eyes searching
the top of the hill to see if I had arrived. She stopped for a minute
to say hi to a friend of ours She continued on her way, her eyes fixed on the top of the hill, never once
looking around to see the soldiers. It was almost as if she were oblivious
to them. As she approached I noticed she had changed her clothing during lunch.
She now wore dungerees, her favorite blue sneakers and a tan safari jacket
opened in the front to expose one word boldly printed across her grey tee
shirt. The word, ironically, was As we stood on the hill watching and waiting for the soldiers to make
their move, Allison ripped in half the moistened cloth she had brought
for protection against tear gas. Another dispersal order was given, yet
no advance was made, so Allison felt safe in running a few yards to give
a friend part of her already compromised cloth. She tore her's again and
gave him half. It was a small gesture, but one that so clearly demonstrated
her consideration and willingness to share. Tear gas was already being
fired as she scrambled back to where I was waiting. We stood for a few
seconds watching the soldiers move out behind a screen of gas, before
deciding to retreat with the crowd of students.
As we began to retreat over the hill, I could see Allison almost beginning
to cry. A few steps further she turned to me with tears rolling down her
cheeks and asked, "Why are they doing this to us? Why don't they let us
be?"
A peaceful assembly was being violently disrupted, breeding anger in
most of those being dispersed. However, Allison did not feel anger, but
rather disappointment and sorrow because of the violence she felt would
ensue. Unfortunately, these passive emotions were soon transformed into
aggression, for as we retreated, a gas cannister landed at our feet, exploding
in our faces. It was at this point that Allison's sorrow changed to anger
and her strained tolerance turned to resistance.
After a few seconds of recovery, Allison turned in her tracks and froze.
She stood in the path of the pursuing troops screaming at the top of her
lungs. Having been pushed too far, she now lashed back and I was forced
to pull her along, fearing that the distance between us and the oncoming
troops was becoming critical. Twice, before we reached the crest of the
hill, she turned to speak her mind to these men. Each time I had to pull
her onward. Upon reaching the top of the hill, she again turned, and with
tears streaming down her cheeks, she creamed and yelled and stomped her
feet as if all her yelling might stop these me. The hand drawn to her
face, holds a wet rag used to protect herself from the gas, and her other
hand holds mine, with which I pulled her over the hill and into the parking
lot, a safe distance from the troops.
For several minutes we stood in the parking lot watching these men threaten
us with their rifles. In response, we cursed them and threw rocks. When
they left we followed, all the time screaming and yelling, and then they
turned.
*While Barry & Allison were friends with Jeffrey Glenn Miller who
was also killed, the poet is another Jeffrey Miller, a friend of both
Barry and Allison.
Allison
You, out there, you patriots of silence,
what do you know of me?
I who lie in this lonely place beneath the soil,
cold as the death I died
for no reason nor cause
except your hatred.
Why? O Why?
If I could come to you whole,
And let you see me,
Touch me.
Know me.
Would you then weep for me you silent patriots?
Can you weep?
Or has hatred so consumed
your angry hearts?
I cry out to you from eternity.
Do you hear me?
Do you hear the mournful song
of a distant bird,
the soft and gentle flutter of her wounded wings?
Or are you so made of stone and stell
no dart of love
could pierce the armor of your frozen hearts.
Come then and mock me in my grave
and heap scorn upon me.
O how I do pity you.
I pity your poor, stunted humanity
that hates me for dying,
and in dying this death
rejoices in the killing.
I pity you for not knowing what this teath I died
shall mean for you tomorrow.
Ah! You dare not come, despite your hate,
you cannot face to face with me.
Oh, no, the shame too great.
Then go; go wave your pretty flags to marching muscles
and leave me with those that love me.
They are few but ever true
and constant as the sun.
Go preach your nonsense to the dumb
and lead the world astray,
seeing in your blindness and hearing in your deafness.
Go preach your hate; but mark me well:
the day will surely come
when I, in others, shall arise and bring to all of you
Love and Peace.
Peter Davies
Dear Art,
Doris,
Laurie. This part in such sorrow
I do here impart.
No words of mine can ease
This awful time.
But perhaps these lines I borrow:
Say no with sadness: she is gone;
But say with gratitude: she was.
O: Doesn't your division have target practice
next week, Myers?
M: Yes, sir
O: Are you going there with that silly flower?
M: No, sir
O: Then what is it doing in your rifle barrel?
M: It was a gift, sir
O: Do you always accept gifts Myers?
M: No, sir
O:Then why did you accept this one?
No answer
O: (Holding out his hand) What are you going to
do with it Myers?
Myers feebly began to remove the lilac
O: That's better Myers. Now straighten up and
start acting like a soldier and forget all this
peace stuff.
Parents named their newborn children
Books were written and dedicated
Plays were written
Schools were named
Poems were written and dedicated
Vigils were held
Songs were written and sung
Movies were made
Flowers were planted
Monday May 4
The Parking Lot Blue Sneakers
--------------- -------------
On my knees Blue sneakers
With my life in my arms That make you
The blood flows past my feet Run faster
the tears Jump higher
Slide off my trembling lips
Falling Blue sneakers
Onto her pale That make you
Pale face Run so fast
You can beat
Like water thru my fingers A speeding bullet
Her life slips away. --If you're looking
--Barry Levine Blue sneakers
Giving you the ability
To out run death
When he is breathing
Down your neck
Your favorite blue sneakers
Tied snugly to your feet
Did not carry you away
Quickly enough
--Barry Levine
Her Funeral Rain Tears
----------- ----------
We drove up all in line. Not long after I found out for sure
Big black cars led us That it was she they shot
Through the trees. It began to rain
It was a small clearing A gentle warm rain
These were cameras there and reporters Streaked my cheeks
But I only saw their ghosts That wouldn't be soothed with tears
Like guns and guardsmen. Entirely too soothing a rain
For the violent end that she met
We walked in our arms
Through the crowd. Yet as sweet and gentle
The coffin looked heavy As she was
From the way they held it. I am sure she preferred it that way
With bowed heads and silence --Jeffrey Miller
We gave her back.
The one she loved never looked
So small and thin; he lost weight where
Her arms no longer were.
Then the loose soil slid over her
And it was done.
I left her there and walked away.
What I buried that day
Can never return
It had no name
--Jeffrey Miller*
