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Student protests, 1969
1969-10-15 ""The New Prairie Primer"" Page 7
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New Prairie Primer, October 15, 1969, Page 7 "How I did What I did" I have always found it easy to do things without having any knowledge of what I was doing. In other words, I neglect to find out how to swim before jumping into the river. This trait characterizes my dealings with that muddiest of swift streams, the Selective Service System, represented in my case by Local board 13-9 of Bremer County and its delightful secretary, Marlene Hansen. It all started after I graduated from UNI in January of 1968. As usual, as soon as your II-S no longer applies, you are sent a I-A, which entitles you to a free physical and a chance at the grand prize, induction into the Army of the United States. Up until that time, the draft board has been some nebulous shape lurking around someone else's house, not mine. All of a sudden, here it was barking at my heels. I had never even heard of a Draft Counselor, let alone talked to one. The whole issue had hadn't applied to me, so I had never thought about it. One thing I knew definitely; I was not going to be in any Army that believes in fighting, using force, and killing other human beings, so I figured I must be a Conscientious Objector. I had heard the term somewhere and from what I knew, it applied to me. I wrote my board asking fro information on the C.O. status and received a form to apply for such a classification. I didn't know it at the time, but the Form 150 they had sent me was the so called "old form" asking what church I belonged to, asking me to give several ministers as reference, and asking me various questions about my concept of God. I knew enough about draft board to know that if I wrote about my concept of God and I told them I didn't belong to a church, and barely knew three ministers' names, my chances of getting the classification wouldn't be good, so I didn't fill out the form. It never occurred to me that there might be other forms with slightly different questions. As my mind went tumbling through the undergrowth of problems and questions, I fell on what seemed to be the perfect solution: Canada. From what I knew, others in my situation were doing to Canada to escape the draft and it didn't seem very different from the United States. I mean, it's on the dollar system and most of the people speak English. The only problem I forsaw was that the winters would be a little colder, but to keep out of the Army, I could take that. I wanted to go to summer school, as I decided that after the summer session was over, I would head on up to Canada. That's as specific as the idea got. I never thought of how I would go, who I should contact for information, or any of the technical things such as writing the Embassy or arranging to file for emigration. As usual, I played the whole thing by ear. Well, in June I got my notice to report for induction in July. I wrote a letter to the local board pleading with them to let me finish summer school. I received a postponement until the last part of August, which would let me leave the country without breaking any laws -- a minor point, but at the time, one that was important to me. On August 4th, 1968, I flew to Toronto, Ontario. I had written a letter to the draft board before leaving and mailed it from Canada: I didn't want dear Marlene to worry. On August 22nd I arrived in Cedar falls, Iowa on the bus. I was supposed to report for induction on Monday the 26th. I didn't stay in Canada for several reasons. I began to feel uncomfortable and dissatisfied with my actions. I realized that I was not facing the problem, but running from it. I developed an overwhelming case of ethics in Canada and the whole thing became less a problem of keeping myself out of the Army than stopping armies from fighting and killing. I went to Canada a draft dodger, but came back a draft resister. I returned on Thursday. On Friday, I had an appointment with Bill Engelbrecht, the family lawyer, to get advice on what to do next. What transpired has got to be typical of the story of my life. I explained my situation to Mr. Engelbrecht and he explained his to me. He didn't feel that he could help me since he was a member of Local Board 13-9.. Right there in front of me, across that desk, an actual living, breathing, flesh and blood murder of the draft board. For years I had had a suspicion that such creatures were purely mythological -- the invention of Local Board secretaries to explain why they sat in those file filled offices all day long. I thought the fates of today's youth really was held in the hands of Marlene Hansen and hundreds of women like her. The fiasco with the lawyer wasted Friday and time was running out. Finally, through the help of a friend Dick Simpson of my aunt, I got an appointment on Saturday with a lawyer from Legal Aid in Waterloo. He quickly got the background of the situation and started to work on a weekend, no less ! On Sunday, he had me come to his office and sign some papers, and early Monday morning he was in court filing an injunction to stop my induction and a suit against the Selective Service System. Wow! Both were dismissed, but he had won some time to try and get me into a position that I could work from. I had waded into the deepest part of the swamp before I decided to hire a guide. Through the help of the lawyer, I got a copy of the "new" Form 150( now that I knew it existed) from my board. I filled it out, returned it, and was kindly granted a ten minute hearing. I was scared out of my gourd when I walked through that door and faced those men gathered around the grey metal table with Marlene hovering over them. All they asked me was if I had anything to add. I asked them if they meant besides my Form 150 and several letters in my file stating my position. This seemed to throw them a bit, so Marlene handed them my file. They found the form and handed it around, giving each man a chance to read it. If I didn't have any faith in our beloved Selective Service System, I would have sworn that they had never seen it before. Of course, Marlene notified me later that they had not reclassified me because there was not enough information. I remained I-A and got a letter telling me to report for induction on February 3, 1969, which I failed to do because I did not talk to the lawyer and get his advice. I found out later that he would have recommended that I report this time but refuse induction, which would have made my position much clearer to the courts and the Selective Service System. In March, I was visited by the nicest young man from the FBI Harold S. It was just like in the movies. As soon as I opened the door, he flashed his badge in one smooth move from his pocket and back again. They must spend weeks n training learning how to effectively flash a badge. I invited him in and he took off his coat, sat down, and began to take all kinds of papers from his briefcase. The first one he handed me was a mimeographed sheet informing me of my rights, one of which was the right to speak to a lawyer before answering any questions. That seemed to be the safest move, so , I told him I would first like to speak to my lawyer. He seemed totally unprepared for this and didn't write know what to do next, except leave, almost forgetting his coat. When I tried to call my lawyer, I found out that he has left the firm for a better job. I was soon under the protective wing of another lawyer from Legal Aid, however, and he arranged with Harold , my FBI man, and Marlene and her board, to have me given another chance to report for induction in April, which I did. Then, as the indictment says: THE GRAND JURY CHARGES: That on or about the 15th day of April, 1969, in the Southern District of Iowa, RICHARD LEONARD SIMPSON willfully and knowingly did fail and neglect to perform any duty required of him under and in the execution of the Universal Military Training and Service Act and the rules, regulations, and directions duly pursuant thereto, in that he did fail and neglect to comply with an order of his local board to report for and submit to induction into the armed forces of the United States, in violation of 50 App. U.S.C. Sec 462. A TRUE BILL. (emphasis theirs) In other words, I refused induction. In the latter part of July, I was arrested by two very charming and wholesome All-American boys from the FBI. I don't know where they get so many clean cut young men. On August 1, I was arraigned in the Southern District Court of Iowa in Des Moines and am now awaiting trial. I have no idea when Criminal Case No. 5-1374-C, The United States of America v. Richard Leonard Simpson, will come to an end. As I look back on my dealings will Marlene and the boys, I dream of all the hassles I could have missed if I had only seen a draft counselor several years ago, even though it would probably have ended up the same way, with my not taking that fateful stop forward. FREE VIETNAM ISSUE GOODBYE HERSHEY JOIN THE NOW GENERATION HAWK THE PRIMER 40% Commission.
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New Prairie Primer, October 15, 1969, Page 7 "How I did What I did" I have always found it easy to do things without having any knowledge of what I was doing. In other words, I neglect to find out how to swim before jumping into the river. This trait characterizes my dealings with that muddiest of swift streams, the Selective Service System, represented in my case by Local board 13-9 of Bremer County and its delightful secretary, Marlene Hansen. It all started after I graduated from UNI in January of 1968. As usual, as soon as your II-S no longer applies, you are sent a I-A, which entitles you to a free physical and a chance at the grand prize, induction into the Army of the United States. Up until that time, the draft board has been some nebulous shape lurking around someone else's house, not mine. All of a sudden, here it was barking at my heels. I had never even heard of a Draft Counselor, let alone talked to one. The whole issue had hadn't applied to me, so I had never thought about it. One thing I knew definitely; I was not going to be in any Army that believes in fighting, using force, and killing other human beings, so I figured I must be a Conscientious Objector. I had heard the term somewhere and from what I knew, it applied to me. I wrote my board asking fro information on the C.O. status and received a form to apply for such a classification. I didn't know it at the time, but the Form 150 they had sent me was the so called "old form" asking what church I belonged to, asking me to give several ministers as reference, and asking me various questions about my concept of God. I knew enough about draft board to know that if I wrote about my concept of God and I told them I didn't belong to a church, and barely knew three ministers' names, my chances of getting the classification wouldn't be good, so I didn't fill out the form. It never occurred to me that there might be other forms with slightly different questions. As my mind went tumbling through the undergrowth of problems and questions, I fell on what seemed to be the perfect solution: Canada. From what I knew, others in my situation were doing to Canada to escape the draft and it didn't seem very different from the United States. I mean, it's on the dollar system and most of the people speak English. The only problem I forsaw was that the winters would be a little colder, but to keep out of the Army, I could take that. I wanted to go to summer school, as I decided that after the summer session was over, I would head on up to Canada. That's as specific as the idea got. I never thought of how I would go, who I should contact for information, or any of the technical things such as writing the Embassy or arranging to file for emigration. As usual, I played the whole thing by ear. Well, in June I got my notice to report for induction in July. I wrote a letter to the local board pleading with them to let me finish summer school. I received a postponement until the last part of August, which would let me leave the country without breaking any laws -- a minor point, but at the time, one that was important to me. On August 4th, 1968, I flew to Toronto, Ontario. I had written a letter to the draft board before leaving and mailed it from Canada: I didn't want dear Marlene to worry. On August 22nd I arrived in Cedar falls, Iowa on the bus. I was supposed to report for induction on Monday the 26th. I didn't stay in Canada for several reasons. I began to feel uncomfortable and dissatisfied with my actions. I realized that I was not facing the problem, but running from it. I developed an overwhelming case of ethics in Canada and the whole thing became less a problem of keeping myself out of the Army than stopping armies from fighting and killing. I went to Canada a draft dodger, but came back a draft resister. I returned on Thursday. On Friday, I had an appointment with Bill Engelbrecht, the family lawyer, to get advice on what to do next. What transpired has got to be typical of the story of my life. I explained my situation to Mr. Engelbrecht and he explained his to me. He didn't feel that he could help me since he was a member of Local Board 13-9.. Right there in front of me, across that desk, an actual living, breathing, flesh and blood murder of the draft board. For years I had had a suspicion that such creatures were purely mythological -- the invention of Local Board secretaries to explain why they sat in those file filled offices all day long. I thought the fates of today's youth really was held in the hands of Marlene Hansen and hundreds of women like her. The fiasco with the lawyer wasted Friday and time was running out. Finally, through the help of a friend Dick Simpson of my aunt, I got an appointment on Saturday with a lawyer from Legal Aid in Waterloo. He quickly got the background of the situation and started to work on a weekend, no less ! On Sunday, he had me come to his office and sign some papers, and early Monday morning he was in court filing an injunction to stop my induction and a suit against the Selective Service System. Wow! Both were dismissed, but he had won some time to try and get me into a position that I could work from. I had waded into the deepest part of the swamp before I decided to hire a guide. Through the help of the lawyer, I got a copy of the "new" Form 150( now that I knew it existed) from my board. I filled it out, returned it, and was kindly granted a ten minute hearing. I was scared out of my gourd when I walked through that door and faced those men gathered around the grey metal table with Marlene hovering over them. All they asked me was if I had anything to add. I asked them if they meant besides my Form 150 and several letters in my file stating my position. This seemed to throw them a bit, so Marlene handed them my file. They found the form and handed it around, giving each man a chance to read it. If I didn't have any faith in our beloved Selective Service System, I would have sworn that they had never seen it before. Of course, Marlene notified me later that they had not reclassified me because there was not enough information. I remained I-A and got a letter telling me to report for induction on February 3, 1969, which I failed to do because I did not talk to the lawyer and get his advice. I found out later that he would have recommended that I report this time but refuse induction, which would have made my position much clearer to the courts and the Selective Service System. In March, I was visited by the nicest young man from the FBI Harold S. It was just like in the movies. As soon as I opened the door, he flashed his badge in one smooth move from his pocket and back again. They must spend weeks n training learning how to effectively flash a badge. I invited him in and he took off his coat, sat down, and began to take all kinds of papers from his briefcase. The first one he handed me was a mimeographed sheet informing me of my rights, one of which was the right to speak to a lawyer before answering any questions. That seemed to be the safest move, so , I told him I would first like to speak to my lawyer. He seemed totally unprepared for this and didn't write know what to do next, except leave, almost forgetting his coat. When I tried to call my lawyer, I found out that he has left the firm for a better job. I was soon under the protective wing of another lawyer from Legal Aid, however, and he arranged with Harold , my FBI man, and Marlene and her board, to have me given another chance to report for induction in April, which I did. Then, as the indictment says: THE GRAND JURY CHARGES: That on or about the 15th day of April, 1969, in the Southern District of Iowa, RICHARD LEONARD SIMPSON willfully and knowingly did fail and neglect to perform any duty required of him under and in the execution of the Universal Military Training and Service Act and the rules, regulations, and directions duly pursuant thereto, in that he did fail and neglect to comply with an order of his local board to report for and submit to induction into the armed forces of the United States, in violation of 50 App. U.S.C. Sec 462. A TRUE BILL. (emphasis theirs) In other words, I refused induction. In the latter part of July, I was arrested by two very charming and wholesome All-American boys from the FBI. I don't know where they get so many clean cut young men. On August 1, I was arraigned in the Southern District Court of Iowa in Des Moines and am now awaiting trial. I have no idea when Criminal Case No. 5-1374-C, The United States of America v. Richard Leonard Simpson, will come to an end. As I look back on my dealings will Marlene and the boys, I dream of all the hassles I could have missed if I had only seen a draft counselor several years ago, even though it would probably have ended up the same way, with my not taking that fateful stop forward. FREE VIETNAM ISSUE GOODBYE HERSHEY JOIN THE NOW GENERATION HAWK THE PRIMER 40% Commission.
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