They Don't Make Teargas Like They Used To

©2013 by LeeZard

“So, what DOES pepper spray smell like?” It was a timely query because I was running through heavy clouds of the stuff in downtown Seattle, fighting to clear my eyes, nose and head while glued to my cell phone, airing a live radio report.

“I’m not sure I can describe it, Dave. I’ve never smelled anything like it before. I can only tell you that it stings and burns like acid. I do know, though, I will never forget what it smells like; I feel like it is filtering through my clothes and soaking through my skin.”

It was the end of November 1999, mid-afternoon on the first day of what was supposed to be Seattle’s “coming out” as a world city. We were hosting thousands of international delegates to the World Trade Organization (WTO) -- a summit to set the agenda for international commerce. We also were hosting thousands more anti-WTO protesters — labor, environmental, political and ethnic groups from all over the world.

Months of anticipation and planning had all come down to riot police, anarchists and peaceful protestors squaring off in the conflicting glows of the season’s first Christmas lights and garbage fires started by rioters at downtown intersections. Rubber pellets fired from police guns indiscriminately dispersed protestors and innocent bystanders. The Battle of Seattle was underway.

I had a front row seat as part of a team of reporters for KIRO NewsRadio, the city’s leading News/Talk station. Because of the station’s format, I merely dialed whatever talk-show host was on the air whenever I had something to report. I was on the air plenty.

Even as I willed myself into cloud after cloud of pepper spray to stay on top of the story, I kept thinking to myself, “This is NOTHING. These people should’ve been around in the 60s. Now THAT was some hard ass teargas.”

Yes, unfortunately, during my 20-years as a journalist I experienced both pepper spray and the high-priced spread  - now used primarily by the military and SWAT teams. There’s a huge difference between the two. Pepper spray is debilitating. Your eyes tear up blurring your vision to the point of near blindness. It gets in your nose and throat bringing with it a nasty sting. The good news is, once you get out of the cloud, all symptoms promptly disappear.

Not so with teargas. Join me now as we relive those thrilling days of yesteryear.

It was November 1969. I was a brash 22-year old correspondent for Metromedia Radio News, a fledgling national network based in Washington, D.C. The Vietnam War was raging and so was the Anti-War Movement. I was part of the team Metromedia sent out to cover more than 500,000 protesters marching on the nation’s capitol.

I’d convinced my managers to let me rent a small motorbike so I could quickly weave through the traffic and crowds from action point to action point. For most of the day it worked smoothly and brilliantly although there wasn’t much “action.”

Yes, this was the largest anti-war demonstration in history but, amazingly, it was a peaceful protest – almost to the end. You might recall the scenes of the demonstration from Forrest Gump. The speechmaking centered at the base of the Lincoln Monument and the vast crowd was spread along the almost two-mile National Mall between the monument and the U.S. Capitol.

As the day wound down, one group, “The Yippies”, decided it was time to stir the pot and they grabbed a very big stick with which to stir.

 “Who the hell were The Yippies?” a younger reader might ask.

Abbie Hoffman

 “Term created by Abbie Hoffman and Jerry Rubin in the mid-1960s to refer to members of the Youth International Party (YIP!). The YIP! was dedicated to merging New Left activism and the hippie counterculture to create a revolution that would be both personal and political--as well as fun. Yippies rejected all -isms, including socialism and anarchism, in favor of the motto "Do your own thing"--i.e., don't conform to a specific system of belief but rather be an individual. At the same time, collective action was at the root of Yippie activism. The Yippies' most famous actions include the attack on the New York Stock Exchange (when Yippies threw money to the floor and watched as those below fought for it) and their involvement at the violent 1968 Democratic Convention in Chicago, at which they nominated a pig for president. Yippies understood the power of the media and sought press to disseminate their revolutionary messages with a pointed disinterest in the accuracy of the stories told about them.
 Abbie Hoffman's Revolution for the Hell of It! is an excellent source for more information on the Yippies.” [1]

As the speeches ended, a group of about 50 Yippies split off from the main body of the crowd. The “stick” they grabbed was a utility pole they toppled in front of the old FBI headquarters across the street from The Mall. Hearing the commotion from afar, I gunned my motorbike to the location and positioned myself right next to the attacking line of Yippies, microphone in hand.

Old FBI Headquarters

The building had two huge iron doors at the entrance, nearly two-stories high. Turning the utility pole into a battering ram, The Yippies began charging the doors. After one or two charges – with the doors hardly yielding – Metropolitan D.C. Police mobilized between the battering ram and the building. At the head of the riot gear-clad police was their infamous, newly appointed and Left Wing-baiting Chief Jerry Wilson.

I could almost see the glint in Wilson’s eye behind his plastic face shield as he tossed the first teargas canister – which landed and exploded right at my feet. OH MY GAWD!

Within seconds my head was spinning, my stomach was churning and I could feel myself losing control of – EVERYTHING. Thank goodness for the planners who put hundreds of Port – A – Potties along The Mall. I dashed for the nearest one and slammed the door just as ‘stuff’ started pouring out of every opening in my body except maybe for my ears. Understatement; it was one huge mess. I cleaned myself off as best as I could – thankfully, my BVD’s contained that mess – and wiped down any of the remaining garments I could still wear. Needless to say, my day was done. Now THAT was some hard ass teargas.

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[1] http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=yippie&defid=2041740