CHUNKERS

About 1983, the Ku Klux Klan got the hairbrain idea to hold a meeting on the South Steps of the capitol of Texas during a bright weekday afternoon.

Now I've always been an advocate of the world ignoring those nut-job purveyors of hate and dissent. I figger they would soon stop having public meetings if no one ever showed up.

The world ain't bent that way, unfortunately, and on the day in question a huge contingent of protesters showed up to yell, scream, spit, and "chunk" stuff in the general direction of the KKK membership.

Being equal opportunity protectors of the citizenry, Lieutenant frankie and his riot squad of Sergeants and Troopers stood between the "chunkers" and the Klan to minimize bloodshed while protecting the free speech constitutional rights of all (and protect the peace and dignity of our beautiful capitol building).

When the crowd volume/anger/chunking got to its peak (after about ten minutes), the young Lieutenant decided that "free speech" issues had been aired sufficiently for the day and it was time to get the Klan Krew away from the capitol and down the road.

Easier said than done.

In their infinite non-wisdom, the Klansmen had parked their cars in a lot about four blocks from the capitol building. As we circled them and started toward their cars, the crowd circled us and began to launch missiles (rocks, sticks, whatever was loose) toward the Klan (my personal favorite was the cast iron covers from the capitol lawn water faucets that were about the size of a saucer). Trouble was, the crowd either wasn't too particular about who they hit, or they were awful poor chunkers, because the majority of that debris rain was hitting me and my squad.

We were just about to completely lose our momentum against the crowd when the Austin Police Department showed up with three wheeled Harley-Davidson motorcycles that they used in parking enforcement. Those motor jockeys drove their iron steeds alongside and in front of us and for the crowd members who didn't move, they just run their butts over until we reached our destination.

After being under a constant barrage for four city blocks, we finally arrived at the parking lot. This particular lot was at an elevation several feet lower than the surrounding parking lots. Now picture the sun almost being obliterated with the things being rained on us by the dimwit onlookers. The cars of the Klan soon looked like dimpled demolition derby rejects and the riot helmets and face shields we were wearing began to look like they had been thru a hand grenade testing facility.

Another Lieutenant standing near me took a large limestone brick alongside his jaw and went down for the count during this time.

We finally got them suckers down the road and away, but we looked like a tattered bunch of county fair shooting range ducks.

I never absentmindedly pick up a rock and "chunk" it without remembering that day.