
          Demonstrating at Weapon World
          By Bernstein, DanDan Bernstein
          Vol. 5, No. 6, 1983, pp. 7-8
          
          The people who gathered on a baseball field under cloudy skies were
as diverse a group as you could imagine. There were teen-agers and
grandmothers; doctors and musicians; hippies and priests.
          But they had all come to Orlando on Saturday, October 22, for the
same reason: to protest the planned deployment of nuclear missiles in
Europe.
          About five hundred people, half the anticipated number, braved
heavy rains to march for an hour and a half through a portion of this
central Florida city. Singing songs and chanting slogans, the group
formed one of a series of demonstrations across the United States and
Western Europe opposing the placement of five hundred and seventy-five
Pershing II and Cruise missiles in five European countries in the next
five years.
          Orlando was chosen as Florida's sole protest site because the
Pershing II is being built by Martin Marietta, a defense contractor
with a plant just outside the city. Hence, the protest's title: "Halt
the Pershing at its source." And hence, signs like "M &M melts your
mouth and your hands." (In addition to the protests, candlelight
vigils were held at the plant grounds the night before and the day
after the march.)
          While many of the demonstrators said they doubted the protests
would stop the missiles from being deployed, they said they still felt
the need to march. "Silence is complicity and we don't want to be part
of that complicity," said TJ. Powers, an Episcopal priest from
Gainesville, who carried a large red sign reading "Choose Life, Pax
Christi."
          Aside from the busloads of people who came from throughout Florida,
the march and afternoon rally attracted some people from outside the
state, including a group from Atlanta.
          Many of the protectors said they had been involved in the Vietnam
War protests. They agreed that the nuclear freeze movement represented
a greater cross-section of America and said it was farther reaching
than Vietnam because it involved a possible world war with millions of
deaths as opposed to localized fighting by guerillas.
          Some said they were too young to get involved in the Vietnam
protests, but have been very active in the freeze movement. "If
nothing else, Ronald Reagan has spurred us on the road to peace," said
Chris West-Harazda, a thirty-year-old prep school teacher from
Tampa.
          Indeed, some marchers seemed to be using the demonstration as a way
to attack the President. "Ronald Reagan, he's no good/send him back to
Hollywood," was among the chants heard from the group during the
march. One speaker at the subsequent rally referred to Reagan as
"Hatchetman."
          Other speakers appealed to different levels One had a comedy
routine. Others harmonized. A University of South Florida cancer
researcher spoke about the medical effects of a nuclear war.
          "The bottom line," said Dr. Gary Lyman, "is that if one 

or two
percent of the nuclear weapons in the Soviet Union were fired at
Florida, there would be five million immediate deaths and three
million severe injuries."
          Before the speeches, the crowd held hands and formed a large circle
around the baseball field near the Tangerine Bowl. Softly, they sung,
"All we are saying, is give peace a chance." The haunting John Lennon
lyric was repeated over and over.
          During the rally, buttons, T-shirts and books were sold to raise
money to offset the $2,500 it cost to put on the march, $1,500 of
which was to pay the city for police protection.
          The Central Florida Nuclear Freeze Campaign, which organized the
march, has challenged that fee on the grounds that it hinders free
speech. A federal district judge ruled in favor of the city, and the
money has been placed in an escrow account pending the outcome of an
anticipated appeal. Lawyers for the freeze group said the case could
end up in the lap of the Florida Supreme Court.
          As for their part, police reported no problems during the three and
a half mile march or the rally, which continued despite a constant
drizzle. At one point during the march, a policemen noticed that a
peace sign had been placed on the windshield of his parked
motorcycle. He quickly pulled off the soggy cardboard and kicked it
into pieces.
          
            Dan Bernstein is a reporter for the Tampa
Tribune.
          
        