Re: “Free John Sinclair”: You write: “His political program was never terribly specific.”

I remember it as being, “Rock and roll, dope, and f____ in the streets.”

How much more specific do you want?

There was definitely a movie about the Free John Sinclair Now Concert, but it has totally vanished, or is it something no one talks about?

I watched the movie about a year after the concert in an Ann Arbor theater.

I am just wondering if I don’t know where to look, or was it simply “removed” or I guess, censored?

I moved into a room across the street from Stockwell and earned 18 meals a week at Alpha Delta Pi — they only served two on Saturday and one on Sunday. It wasn’t far up North U to the Arb (Slideshow: Splendor in the Arb, June 2008), and lots of couples carrying coolers in one hand and blankets draped over the other, books in backpacks and radios or even record players would stroll there to study flowers, trees, and one another.
My roommate, famous among his friends for his trombone and his wit, was Walter Hastings Hay. His fame derives from the label on his door in South Quad (he moved out of my room in West Quad and into South when it opened in the winter of 1951-52). It read, in part: “Walter Hastings Hay, Esq. World Traveler, Great Lover, Accomplished Musician, Notary Public . . . ” (The last was not true; he didn’t notarize anything.) On a warm spring evening, with windows open because the air conditioning had failed in the new dorm, and there was no air conditioning in West Quad, Walt exchanged riffs with a trumpeter across the street. The music led to yells of “Knock it off! I’ve got studying to do.” The yells led to challenges to “do something about your big mouth.” Which led to a mob gathering between the quads. Then someone said, very loud, “let’s raid the women’s dorms!” That led to a march across campus to Stockwell and the other women’s dorms along the street that led to University Hospital.
All kinds of “urban legends” followed. One was a story about a woman surprised in the shower who covered her face with the towel so she wouldn’t be recognized. Another, well documented in Detroit newspapers, was that Deborah Bacon, Dean of Women, was asked to comment on the night’s activities, and she responded, “Boys will be Boys.”
I was still living in Chicago House, on the north side of West Quad, and I was unaware of what happened that night or I would have gone along to see what happened. I might have seen raiders march across the stage of the Michigan Theater, displaying the dainties they had looted (or been given) during their forays into women’s dorms. I might even have been one of the raiders. But I wasn’t. I might have recognized one of the raidees from class. The next year, when I moved close to the scene of the raids, I might have recognized people from that weird, unseasonably warm spring evening now engaged in the relatively sedate stroll to the Arb.

I was a freshman living in South Quad at the time of the Free John Sinclair concert. George Harrison’s Concert for Bangladesh had occurred earlier in 1971, with many major surprise appearances from major artists. We here hoping for some major names as well, and Stevie Wonder didn’t disappoint. He also sang “Ma Cherie Amour” that night.

I too was an 18 year-old freshman in 1971, lucky enough to get tickets to the sold out Free John Sinclair concert. The area surrounding Crisler was a big party scene for the ticketless. I just related to my wife that the “tight seating” noted in the article was an oblique reference to me. A friend and I noticed as we entered the arena that the ticket takers didn’t tear the tickets and simply dumped them in large trash cans. For the next couple hours we recycled tickets to the hungry hippies on the outside. We thought they would just have to sit on someone’s lap.Today, my views are more sympatico with Strom Thurmond than John Sinclair. I remember a little of those days and know we were out of control. Does anyone remember the Harpys?

We were the youth that John Sinclair and Jerry Rubin promised to mobilize against the establishment and “kick out the jams.” I was in 10th grade at Huron High and an anti-war organizer. After school would go to the Friends Center next door to the White Panthers’ house, where young men burnished their credentials as Quakers to get Conscientious Objector draft status. Every day we’d go dig bomb craters on the Diag or do something else of political importance, like bake crunchy granola.

I went to the Free John Sinclair concert. I remember that there was so much vomit on the floor of Crisler Arena, and empty Annie Green Springs bottles that I wasn’t sure I could stand the wait for John Lennon. Stevie Wonder was my favorite part of the show — and Elsie Sinclair’s speech of unconditional support for her son’s foibles. We drove a VW bug home at 4 in the morning watching for belligerent Washtenaw County Sheriffs.

I still love Bob Seger and Commander Cody, and my heart rate goes through the roof when a police officer pulls up next to me. And yeah, my generation is still working on kicking out a few jams in our own middle-aged ways.

I spent the summer of 1981 at the Biological Station (U-M’s campus in the north woods celebrates centennial session, June 2008) taking classes in Physiological Ecology and Field Photography. We lived and breathed our study and it was a marvelous experience. I return over and over to the lessons of that summer, often in surprising ways. I will cherish it always.

I remember that I got my tickets way before anyone knew John Lennon would be at the Free John Sinclair concert. But it was general admission, so we got kind of far up seats any way.

This thing went on forever — everyone was waiting for John Lennon to show up. In the mean time we got some great music. I remember Commander Cody and Stevie Wonder the most. I’m pretty sure that Commander Cody was throwing cans of beans into the audience, but maybe that was someone else.

But a real event, especially for a freshman. I remember that night to this day!

When I was there at U-M, Pierpont Commons had just opened, East Engineering was where the Math and Psychology building are now, and it was the last year you used paper drop and add forms (you had an appointment and gave the forms to the registrar who put it in the computer).