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Show SLC Turns Out Saturday March Big (Editor's Note: Chronicle Editorial Assistant J. Bauman was present during Saturday's Peace March downtown and recorded his impressions im-pressions of the goings on.) Saturday noon, the marchers milled around in the Federal Building Build-ing plaza. Bruce Philips stood on the concrete fountain, speaking to hundreds through a bullhorn mike held close to the mouth, his head dark against the intense blue of a cloudless sky. "Let's make this march peaceful," said Philips and somebody in the crowd muttered "This is great. If people can make a stand like this it's the greatest thing in the world. This is great." j A little boy carried a placard reading "Stop KILLING Millions of Individuals" and an old lady car- ried a purple-lettered sign: "An-i "An-i other Mother for Peace." Bruce Philips began waving his arms, dill di-ll recting people; Ammon Henessy took his place at the head of a line ' that was forming; people shuffled ) from foot to foot. The march moved out. Monitor John Chanonat (multiple draft-card arsonist) bounced down the line, a ragged hankie tied around his forearm. fore-arm. An old lady somewhere between be-tween the marchers and the photogs shouted in her shrill, reedy old voice: "You doin' good; you just keep it up!" They were a sharp looking bunch (Continued on page 5) Saturday March Big (Continued from page 1) of marchers. Businessmen, housewives, house-wives, students, hippies, professors. The marchers troted along, dripping drip-ping beneath the brassy naked sun high above the smog of the city. A monitor estimated the crowd stretching out of sight single-file in either direction at 345. Someone yelled "COWARDS!" from a passing pass-ing Ford. Policemen held up traffic at intersections; in-tersections; cars were backed up for blocks, honking. Cars cruised past the march, loud radios playing "Lovely Rita Meter Maid." Someone lurking in the shadows of Zinik's called "Check 'em for combat badges!" Another voice from the store answered "Most of them are 4-F!" The march wound under the facade fa-cade of a theater showing "Reflections "Reflec-tions in a Golden Eye" and slowed noticably as everyone checked out the photos on the marque. A fellow carrying a sign ("Windex Not Napalm") Na-palm") remarked that Liz Taylor has "lost her bod." The marchers passed a rum-soaked old man hanging hang-ing onto a parking meter; he winked a bleary red eye at the women. A policeman walked away from the march, reading April Committee Commit-tee propaganda; at an intersection a policeman's radio instructs someone some-one to "go to Tenth South and Temple." Woman spectator in a tight blue dress: "Wow. Watch this. There's a groovy sign!" Old man spectator: "This is the longest line I've seen in Salt Lake." They neared the Federal Building again. "Frenchie" Chanonat bounced boun-ced by, counting people: "Last count is now 390! Follow your rank now; don't bunch up!" The marchers entered the Feder-- Feder-- al Building's plaza and bunched up. Speeches. Heat. Placard waving. Applause. Catcalls. Sun gleaming on steel-rimmed sunglasses. Applause. Ap-plause. Everybody went home. |