I enjoyed the article about the Spring Frolic in 1952 which spawned “panty raids” (Panty Raid, 1952 July, 2008). The article says they ended 15 years later, but I do remember panty raids while living in Mosher-Jordan in 1966-’67 and 1967-’68 Fall term. They ended when Mo-Jo went coed and women’s curfews were lifted in 1968-69. You could hear the chants of the men as they marched across campus from East and West Quads. (No air-conditioning then!)
By my time there was a drill that every coed was supposed to follow: leave your room, turn out the lights and sit outside your door in the hall way. The housemothers and RAs then made rounds to assure that everyone was safe inside after locking the front doors (the only ones unlocked at that time). The bay window rooms on 3rd floor in Mo-Jo made great places to go-go dance with a flashlight!!! And to fling out unmentionables — as our next door neighbor did each time until the housemother made it to our wing!!
Great fun! Harmless in my time.

I had graduated by the time the Free John Sinclair concert happened, but I do remember that the Doors came to play and were so trashed that they got booed off the stage and the local opening band got called back. Another time Joan Baez came to Crisler Arena and all tickets were $2.00, a bargain even then. When those were sold out they decided to sell “Obstructed View” tickets for just a buck. That concert was well worth the money…

I read the Panty Raid, 1952 article in the July 2008 issue of Michigan Today with interest, although the first panty raid predated my experience at Michigan by a decade. I played in the Michigan Marching Band in the 1960s, and at that time that organization was all male, as were the cheerleaders. The football team was not very good but at least we won at halftime! When did the MMB and cheerleaders become co-ed? Being in the MMB was a physically arduous endeavor, and we prided ourselves in playing concert music and “classics” such as War Chant and Temptation. (Pick up your feet; play your part; and Drive, Drive, Drive.)
Playing under the direction of the Chief (Dr. Revelli) and George Cavendar was indeed a thrill, especially for an engineering student. I remember a trumpet sectional one Sunday when the Chief made us play and then sing a note that he didn’t like. When I was still “flat” he remarked that I apparently didn’t go to church often enough!

Never went on a true panty raid before, but I’ve seen how one starts.
This time, it wasn’t the first warm day of spring that brought us all out, but a fresh snowfall of the kind of one-scoop packing snow that puts anyone in a snowball-in-the-earhole-of-your-best-friend kind of mood. A few dozen of us were in one of the two central yards of Mary Markley Hall (this was the winter of ’85-’86) peppering each other with snowballs when we got the idea to go attack the other half. We packed up a few good snowballs each and stormed the unsuspecting snowballers of the other side. After a few good hits about the face and neck all around, we joined forces with them and moved on in search of other targets, pelting the occasional open window on the way (damn screens!).
Stockwell, then an all-women’s dorm, was the immediate target. We advanced, and, finding nothing other than a particularly sassy 4th floor resident (essentially unreachable to those of us without Harbaugh-esque arms), we moved over to the athletic fields on the Hill.Unfortunately, we couldn’t see that we were badly outnumbered because most of the snowballers were hidden by the curve of the hill. We poured over the hill like Goths bent on sacking Rome and discovered that the Hill snowballers were more than willing to fight back. A regular donnybrook ensued, with hundreds of us giving and taking snowballs left and right. Being on the side of the smaller force, I gotta say we took it in the shorts. Eventually, nobody could tell Goths from Romans, and we all melded into a giant, snowball-throwing horde. Having spent our initial energy, the snowballing lulled and we again united with our bigger crowd in search of something else.
Anybody in the front of the pack could lead, and they did. “To the frats!” someone yelled, and off we went.
This time, the mission was stealth, so all two hundred of us moved on with very few words. Exactly which fraternity it was I don’t know, because it didn’t last long. We assembled in the parking lot behind the place, and with a shout, the first volley was off. I still remember watching as that single snowball arched toward a window.
With so many, you’d think someone would have better aim, but most hit the bricks. The one window-bound ball scored a direct hit. It turns out that fraternity windows are not only smaller, but considerably less solid than their dormitory counterparts. The glass shattered as the snowball passed through it with surprising ease. A half-beat of silence, and then everyone scattered, breaking up into all the smaller groups that had originally massed into the unwieldy horde. Something about the breaking window touched off the kid-caught-with-shaving-cream-on-Halloween instinct in all of us. Someone yelled “run” and we broke. My friends and I walked back to the dorms, happy and tired, our desire to sack Rome sated.

I was a high school student and attended the Free John Sinclair concert with a friend to see the radical jazz saxophonist Archie Shepp. My friend and I had no interest in John Sinclair, or even John Lennon. The energy level that night was amazing, but we left shortly after Archie Shepp gave a very wild and memorable performance.

For years, I’ve been relating the story of the Free John Sinclair concert. The tickets were only $2 each for great seats in Crisler Arena. I went with my retro-rock group, Chastity and the Belts, accompanied by our band soulmates, Jimmy and the Javelins. What a phenominal concert it was.
The worst part was having to put up with the awful screech of Yoko Ono. It was worth it to hear John sing, “they gave him 10 for two, what else could the judges do?”…followed by “they gave him 10 for two, what else could the bastards do?” Quite racy lyrics in those days.
Stevie Wonder was amazing. It seemed like the night was an ever-continuing homage to our youth and culture of the day. We were a bunch of young suburban kids living the perfect life. Going to The University of Michigan and grooving with John Lennon. Far Out!

Re: “Free John Sinclair!” (June, 2008): Why do you publish such garbage? Why celebrate such an “out of the mainstream” sleazy individual?
You “dilute the currency” of U-M by slogging
around in the dregs of a bygone era, rather than celebrating and uplifting situations to which U-M has made positive contributions.
My wise parents used to tell me that “you are who you hang around with.” To the extent that anyone emulates some of the antics of John Sinclair because of the tacit approval of U-M hurts the school.
I am 100% sure that you have better situations to champion in the storied history of the University!
It may not have been your “intention” to endorse Sinclair’s behavior but that is exactly what you have done. Many, many people will not read the article nor think critically about how and why it was published. All they will do is associate U-M with such activities. You
and I both know that that is exactly what happens. U-M has a reputation for radicalism whether true or not and this article only supports that perception.
Is that how you want the school to be perceived?

I remember the events surrounding the Sinclair case (“Free John Sinclair”, June 2008), some with clarity. One thing I recall was that the Supreme Court of the State of Michigan invalidated the Sinclair conviction on grounds of cruel and unusual punishment.

When the Free John Sinclair concert was held I was in my teens, and coincidentally cooling my heels in jail on a marijuana charge. I was out by the time the legal dust settled.

I also recall that there was a brief period thereafter when there effectively was no law against marijuana possession in Michigan. Potheads, their friends, and families rejoiced. Many people were freed from jails and prison. My own five-year probationary sentence was canceled.

Of course the politicians acted with all due haste and passed a new law regarding cannabis. This time, though, simple possession at least would be a misdemeanor. That was some progress at least.

I attended the Free John Sinclair rally at the Crisler Arena in 1971. My buddy Jerry Edgar went with me, and he still has a framed poster from that night. It was quite a night to remember, the crowd was buzzing with anticipation and a strong sense of brotherhood. It was a large and rowdy crowd, mostly people ages 18 to 30, who would now be 55 to 67. The next day I had two exams, and aced them both.