Chronicles of Brunonia

Chronicles of Brunonia War Against War: The Story of Brown Daily Herald’s National Peace Movement Sarah Gibson http://dl.lib.brown.edu/cob Copyright © 2007 Sarah Gibson Written in partial fulfillment of requirements for E. Taylor’s EL18 or 118: “Tales of the Real World” in the Nonfiction Writing Program, Department of English, Brown University. The New York Times paper was dimpled and blurred from the morning’s rain, but its headline still put a knot in Max Hoberman’s stomach: “Reichstag Meeting Today is Prepared to Give Hitler Full Control as Dictator”. Ten o’clock on March 21, 1933, and international affairs already looked dismal. Spring had just arrived, and 1933 promised to be one of the most tumultuous years in the nation’s history. The Great Depression had reached its most horrific stage, with hundreds of thousands of “Okies” traversing the dry, dusty Midwest towards California, homeless families constructing drab shantytowns in the underbellies of America’s cities, and a quarter of the country’s workforce looking for jobs. Providence, Rhode Island, a city jammed with factories for textiles, silverware, machine tools and jewelry, saw its economy plummet along with the country’s. It, too, viewed the state of national and world affairs with uncertainty. On March 4, the new President Franklin Roosevelt addressed this trepidation in his inaugural speech, observing famously “that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” Soon thereafter, he introduced New Deal Legislation and began passing acts such as the Emergency Banking Act, which helped to reopen and fund banks across the nation. News from abroad threatened these hints of optimism at home. In Germany, authorities began to round up Communists, Marxists, and other citizens with undesirable affiliations. The words “concentration camp” made their way into newspapers, police raided Einstein’s home, and the American Jewish Committee issued public pleas in an attempt to “ameliorate the sufferings of Jews.” On March 21st, gray clouds bulged low in the sky and a cold rain made small streams on the road and brought out the scent of an early spring storm. That evening, senior Max Hoberman walked across the soggy ground of the Brown University campus, his face dripping with rain and his hands stuffed inside the pockets of a black knee-length overcoat. Phrases ran through his head as he began to prepare himself for the meeting, but the one sentence that kept on squeezing itself back was not his own. It was the headlines of the morning newspaper, written in an ominous black bold that took up nearly one-fifth of the New York Times front page. When he was elected to editor-in-chief of the student newspaper The Brown Daily Herald nearly a year earlier, Max and the other editors had vowed to make the newspaper more progressive and international. Now, in the midst of crackling on-air announcements about the rise of Hitler and the daily news articles about the horrifying impoverishment in their own country, Max realized that tonight they must begin something radical: Something that would inspire and galvanize, unnerve and upset. Max was not alone in his musings. The rest of the editorial board was just as –and sometimes more – concerned about changing the direction of the Herald, the campus, and the country. Gradually, dark forms of his fellow editors emerged from the foggy distance, walking briskly towards the large, gray stone Faunce House on the main green. When they finally gathered around the table in the cramped office of the Brown Daily Herald, the bottoms of their dress pants were soaked but their minds were unclouded. Max began, “Everyone read the news?” Heads nodded somberly up and down. He looked down at his notebook. “Fifteen years ago 37,494,186 men died thinking they were fighting the war to end all wars.” He narrowed his small, wide-set eyes and paused to allow the immensity of that number to settle. Harold Seidman interrupted the silence with a soft Brooklyn accent. “Looks like there’s another one brewing.” The room erupted into conversation. “Hitler’s there for life.” “They shut down all the Communist printing presses.” “Well of course. Someone discovered a communist plot to assassinate him!” Harold Wagner looked pointedly at Max. “They’re arresting and beating Jews.” “Have they actually explained why?” Max interjected. “Alright,” he chuckled, “I’m glad we’re all reading the newspapers. Wagner, what did President Roosevelt say in his inaguaral speech?” “He’ll ask for wartime powers if needed.” Another pause. Chairs scraped the worn wooden floor as people placed their elbows on the table, preparing themselves for the ensuing hours of debate, writing, and revisions that Max demanded. Seidman added, “You remember what the Oxford Debating Team just pledged?” Wagner answered, “To never bear arms.” “So,” Seidman continued, excited by the momentum of the group but directing his question mostly at Max, “We’ve discussed what we do about this, yes?” Another editor chimed in, “Remain dedicated to pacifism unless we’re invaded.” “A massive petition.” “Some sort of pacifist campaign.” Seidman leaned forward “How about we model it after Ernst Friedrich’s book? We’ll begin a ‘War against War’.” “There it is!” Max sat up. “A front-page editorial tomorrow. No arms unless we’re invaded.” The men murmured in agreement. “Fifteen years ago…” Seidman began. Max interrupted with the number that had launched their conversation, speaking slowly to ensure that the freshman editor punched out every word on the typewriter. “37,494,186 young men willingly gave their lives for a cause which their trusted leaders had made them believe was worth the supreme sacrifice.” Two hours passed. The rain had diminished to wet fog and the editorial was ready for the printing press. It opened with Max’s statistic and ended with: “On the monument for the Brown war dead is engraved the lines: ‘It is perdition to live when for truth one ought to die.’ It is just as true that it is perdition to die when for truth one ought to live. Let us join and pledge ourselves never to bear arms unless an enemy invades our shores. Our war dead must not have died in vain!” Indeed, this “war dead” was substantial, and Brown had provided its fair share of soldiers. 1,974 students, graduates, and Faculty members had fought in the World War I. In 1933, many students were at Brown on a ROTC scholarship or part of the Citizens Military Training Camps, and still more others had family member who had been active in duty. On March 22, the editorial “War Against War” ran on the first page of the Brown Daily Herald next to news about the upcoming legalization of beer on April 6, an article on the violence in Germany, and announcements by the student language clubs. Editors from the Herald drafted a petition that resounded with an informed balance of realism and optimism. It read: WHEREAS: we believe that war is futile and destructive and should be abandoned as an instrument of international action, and WHEREAS: we believe that it is to the best interests of the United States and other nations that peace be maintained, and WHEREAS: we believe that peace can only be maintained by open opposition to the selfish interests that promote war, and WHEREAS: we believe that increasing militarism and nationalism in the United States must be opposed by united action, and WHEREAS: we believe that war is only justified in case of invasion of the mainland of the United States by a hostile power, and WHEREAS: we believe that the united refusal of the youth of America to bear arms, except in case of invasion, will do much to prevent war, We, the undersigned students of Brown University pledge ourselves not to bear arms, except in case of invasion of the mainland of the united states, to work actively for the organization of the world on a peace basis. That afternoon, editors compiled a list of 145 colleges where they would send the petition. Seidman began searching for students from various fraternities, campus clubs, and sports teams who would serve on a committee to oversee the campaign at Brown and encourage other colleges to join it. For the next seven mornings, the Brown Daily Herald greeted its readers with excited updates on the anti-war drive, the flood of students joining the campaign on college campuses throughout the Northeast, and the relative support of the Brown administration and faculty. Op-eds from current students, alumni, and professors from other colleges called the original editorial everything from “immature and childish” to “the finest piece of writing which has come to my attention in recent years”. On Friday, March 24, the same day that the Herald announced the members of the anti-war committee, the Newport Daily News carried an editorial that denounced the Herald’s campaign, quoting a Mrs. Paul Fitzsimons as saying “I have no word to express my scorn and contempt for those who would corrupt our youth to cowardice . I suppose they think that someone else will protect us until they can get together water pistols and sling-shots.” The editors, like many Rhode Islanders, were surprised that Brown University, the third oldest college in New England and the favored institution for Rhode Island’s wealthy elite, would suddenly “be a hotbed of pacifist propaganda”. The editorial ended stubbornly stating: “we refuse utterly to believe that the pacifistic and wishy-washy editorials of the Brown Daily Herald represent the attitude of the undergraduates of that famous old Rhode Island institution.” The Herald pounced on this criticism, hoping perhaps that such disapproval might excite and galvanize Brown students.

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