Tom Mutz: Eulogy To Scott Keating I (read by Charlie Samson)

You probably remember that after the Ohio National Guard murdered the four students at Kent State on May 4th, 1970, college campuses across the country erupted in protest. At the University of Denver protests began on May 6th and by the 8th, the campus was shut down and a tent city/shanty town with 1500 inhabitants had been erected on the lawns just south of Evans Ave. Scott, Mary and I along with others from our various circles (Dick Drennen, Susan Simons, Steve Levine and on and on) got involved with what the students were calling Woodstock West. Lots of good fellowship, decent food, great dope, homemade music and good politics around the fires in the camp.

The campers policed themselves and the camp "police" called themselves after Wavy Gravy. The police of the helmeted persuasion moved on the protesters early on the morning of May 11th. Lines of state troopers with two foot long billyclubs sealed off Evans at Race St. and University Blvd while the Denver police began a sweep into the shanty town. Scotty and I were among those who went from tent to shanty waking people up. The cops tore down the tents and knocked over the makeshift shanties. (I have one nice memory of a cop approaching a shanty whose main support was a length of four by four. He took his nightstick in both hands and gave the upright a tremendous clout. The four by was anchored to the ground somehow and it was like smacking a cement post. The cop vibrated away from the shanty).

By the evening of the 11th the camp was back up. The police didn't have the manpower to control the campus as well as catch crooks but the National Guard did. Scott, Mary and I hooked up with the early warning office which was dedicated to letting the campers know when the Guard was coming. On the night of May 11th-12th, Scott, Mary, Susan Grossweiler (mostly along for the company) and I were staked out on the road that runs by the Denver/Globeville National Guard Armory, from which everyone expected the Guard trucks, tanks(?), armored personnel carriers(?), etc(?) to roll. We had scoped out the location of a pay telephone and settled down close enough to the gate to count the vehicles when they set out. This was serious business. No dope in the car, no booze. And no National Guard. I remember a lot of laughing, music on the radio, plenty of heavy dozing and a ridiculous number of cigarettes. We made it home around dawn.

The night of the 12th-13th after cruising to and fro past the armory gates, Scott and I were back at the stakeout. Pall Malls, Tareytons, the radio and the best desultory conversation (I forget where we pissed). About 4am we were making 'pack-it-in' noises when Holy shit! set after set of headlights started pouring out of the gate. We counted and counted. Upward of 30 vehicles. I banged a u-turn and we bolted for the gravel parking lot where the pay phone was. We were half out of the car when another car raced up followed immediately by a state patrol cruiser. I stepped into the booth while Scotty stood outside trying to nonchalantly light a cigarette with shaking fingers. Took him four matches, the fourth the most determined match strike I've ever seen. The state cop played his light over the two of us--we squinted in a "gosh what's up" way--then over the other car--whose driver ducked down! The smoky went for him like a terrier after a wounded rat. I completed the call, Scotty and I wended our way to our vehicle and we drove away wondering who the dumb ass in the other car was.

We made it back to the DU campus in time to see bus after bus of Guardsmen roll down University Ave with the rising sun flickering through their windows.