A dispatch from Portland, 2025 – and Boston, 1969

October 16th, 2025

Dear Readers:

…..By now you’ve seen the protestors in inflatable shark and frog suits, the nude cyclists, the marching band dressed as bananas, and, chillingly, Sponge Bob.

…..Yes indeed, it’s truly a war zone here in Portland, site of this edition of Donald Trump’s production of Theater of the Absurd, where peaceful protest is described as a “war zone” with “explosions everywhere” – a city that is “burning to the ground.” (This is the same guy who pardoned actual violent rioters who attempted to overturn a presidential election on his behalf because he wasn’t big enough to accept defeat).

…..I live in Portland. It truly is one of the most beautiful places on Earth. Mountains everywhere. The ocean only a short drive away. Leafy neighborhoods. Incredible beer, wine and coffee. And, food carts anchoring one of the best food scenes in the country.

…..Yes, Portland was challenged in 2020, during COVID, and in response to the murder by a police officer of George Floyd, thousands peacefully protested on a nightly basis, scarred only by dozens of people who raised their voices in ways that were not useful – in other words, they pelted the Federal building downtown with objects, endangering officers and fellow protestors. It was dumb, but that behavior has been seen only a few times since January 20, 2025. When it occurs, the local police have been handling it just fine.

…..But people are peaceful here. Most of us respect our neighbors, no matter how they look or where they came from – or why. And, importantly, we defend our Constitutional right to assemble and protest peacefully.

…..Igniting tension between American citizens should not be in the presidential job description. Nor should creating a false narrative to justify the placement of Federal troops in an American city that will inflame otherwise peaceful protestors and endanger innocent lives. Nothing good comes from this strategy. It is ignorant, hateful, and sinister. It leads to incidents like photojournalists being shot with pepper balls. When do pepper balls become bullets?

…..Peaceful protest is nothing new to America. It is what makes our country great. And those of us who grew up in the 1960’s probably have a history of protest – some turning violent – ourselves. The protests ultimately kept me out of Vietnam.

…..I had an email exchange earlier this week with the Massachusetts-based poet Russell Dupont, who asked how things were going in “war-torn” Portland. I told him I would be attending the “No Kings” march on October 18, and he said that, being a photographer, he was having a tough time deciding whether to carry a camera or a sign to the one he will be participating in.

…..He wrote that, “Way, way back (in 1969) I was one of the organizers of a portion of the March Against the War in Boston. I’m glad I carried a camera instead of a sign. Got some good stuff.”

…..The following is a dispatch from that protest by the young Dupont – a stark reminder of what happens when demonstrations are infiltrated by Federal agents whose mission is to quash Constitutionally-guaranteed peaceful assembly, and stifle the truth from being told.

Joe Maita

Editor/Publisher

Portland, Oregon

_____

October 15, 1969

Photos and text

Russell Dupont

…..“You know that guy’s been following you, right?” Mickey Stollen wore his hair nearly shoulder length, held in place with a red bandana. Mickey was a fellow student at Boston State College, one of a group of us who had argued political “philosophies” with Dan Rea and his fellow Young Americans for Freedom and who had organized the anti-war contingent from BSC for The March Against The War.

…..I nodded. “Red Squad,” I said. The Boston Police Department, as had many other Metropolitan Police Departments around the country, had set up special “intelligence” units to keep track of and in some cases infiltrate “Commie” and young “radical” groups. I’m not sure how it was in other cities but in Boston, at any anti-war, anti-government demonstration, the “Red Squad” was present.

…..Once the march had reached the Government Center, I had broken off from the marchers, taken out my camera and began photographing what I felt was an important historic event. Once I began taking pictures, I noticed a trench-coat clad guy sticking close to me wherever I went and when police violence erupted against the marchers and I moved in to document the violence, he began to elbow his way through the crowd toward me. The crowd was thick and I kept moving through it and my “tail,” so obviously sinister and out of place, found it more and more difficult to keep up with me.

…..For a time, I lost him and continued to photograph. Except for an SDS group back down on Summer Street which had broken off from the marchers to break windows in the shops along the way, the marchers were peaceful, simply sitting down en masse in front of the various government buildings around the Government Center.

…..I’m not sure what initiated the police violence against the peaceful demonstrators but suspect it was simply their mass refusal to obey the police demands to “move along.” And when the violence did break out, I can remember the fear and anger that spread through the demonstrators as well as the screaming, the cursing pelted down on the police. Young men, young women, just sitting peacefully, were dragged away by the hair, clubbed until bloody and senseless.

…..So much was happening so fast, I found myself moving through the crowds, photographing whatever was happening around me, reloading film on the run. Outraged at the senseless violence, I wanted to record everything around me and at the same time, aware of the situation, keep an eye out and protect myself from attack.

…..Dirty looks, glares from the police weren’t so much a concern to me as the clubs they carried.

…..I didn’t want to, couldn’t afford to, stay in one place too long. Tension, noise, and panic were all around me, so I moved quickly from confrontation to confrontation until I found myself on the edge of the demonstration, about ready to wade back in when I heard a voice from behind.

…..“You!”

…..I turned and realized I had not been as careful as I thought I had. I had backed my way into “The Trench Coat Squad” and one of them had noticed me. “Give me your camera,” he shouted. I raised the camera to my eye, clicked the shutter, turned and ran back into the crowd, ran as fast as I could, sure that I was being chased. Somewhere down around Mass General, I stopped, looked back and smiled, satisfied that I had escaped.

___

Russell Dupont, poet, artist, novelist, has published in the albatross, Spectrum, The I, For Poets Only, The Anthology of South Shore Poets, Re-Side, Oddball, Jerry Jazz Musician, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Rye Whiskey Review, Last Stanza Poetry Journal, the new post-literate, DADAKU, One Sentence, Verse-Virtual, Lothlorien Journal, Pick-Me-Up Poetry, Poetry Porch, Concrete Formalist Poetry and the Northern New England Review. He is the author of three novels: King & Train, Waiting for the Turk, Movin’ On; a collection of short stories, Norman Mailer Walks Into a Bar; three collections of poetry: Winter, 1948, Establishing Home Plate, and Jazz at the Point.

He is also the author of two non-fiction chapbooks — Up in Wisconsin: Travels with Kinsley, and There is No Dam Now at Richford. Examples of his work have been collected in the Archives of UMass Boston. His journalism has appeared in The Dorchester Community News, The Melrose Free Press and The Patriot Ledger.

Listen to the 1969 recording of Sly and the Family Stone performing Sylvester Stewart’s song “Everyday People” [Epic Legacy]