Berrigan was a main speaker at the college's "Celebration of Life" festival. His was one of the main signatures endorsing the World Peace March, and he had been in Los Angeles to bless the L.A. route's departure on October l7th. He was soft-spoken and low-key. Most of the non-Americans had not met him before, and he had talked five minutes with Carole and Mercury, unrecognized.

At l:00 o'clock we held a prayer vigil outside the building where Berrigan was to speak. Then we joined him for his first program at 2 p.m. He spoke first in this "Festival of Life" symposium. He hated to disappoint his sponsors, but he had to focus on the celebration of death represented by the arms race, rather than a celebration of the cheap thrills of life. The United States government was godless, as much as the Soviet, recognizing nuclear weapons as the supreme power rather than God.

He asked people to join us in walking the two miles from the student union to the Quaker house; about thirty joined us. After supper, we went back to the chapel for Berrigan's second program, again to an overflowing audience. He first read some of his poems written in prison. His main point was that in pre-war Germany, the Nazi crimes were legal. Now the arms race was "legal" too. World War III will be "legal". Civil disobedience is the only moral alternative to such legalities.

   March 25, High Point to Greensboro
Our longest distance, 23 miles. When we left, we expected just l5 -- the difference, eight miles: not far by car. Lunch pickings were slim that day -- some pecans, some alfalfa sprouts, a few oranges. Jane and Ishiyama continued to go off alone; they were teased about marriage, which made the other monks scornful.

There had been a dramatic change in Ishiyama the last three weeks. He now got up early to join the morning prayers of songs, only then to the Buddhist prayers. All of us, in fact, were more relaxed since Sandy, Jane, and Mary had joined three weeks ago. There was a good bit of good-natured joking.

We were expecting to go swimming at the Greensboro YWCA that afternoon so, calculating that we had walked at least twelve miles in the morning, that pool should be only 3 or 4 miles down the road. Then Steve drove up, and told us we had at least ten more miles. And we then proceeded, after lunch, to walk past our turn; Steve was too shy perhaps to correct this, or thought we had changed the route, until Sandy crossed over to speak with him. At least it was a warm, sunny, windless afternoon.

Now, our parade permit in Greensboro was good only until four o'clock. We decided to walk in Greensboro even without a valid permit. The police cooperated but said that they would not escort us past 4:00. It turned out that the shoulder was by a steep embankment; it was dangerous walking in the five o'clock traffic, but we arrived at the United Church of Christ at 5:50, exhausted.

Sandy and I were carrying the banner in front, but our greeters by-passed our "Hello" and went straight to the monks with their refreshments. "Man, they sure go for those bald heads," said Sandy. There were ten minutes before supper, and I had a chance to talk with one couple who asked how far we had walked. "23 miles," I told them. "Oh, is that all?"

Our program began at 7:30. Ishiyama was too tired (or sick, from his hypertension?) to run the slide projector. The rest of us were too tired to give a really coherent program. We were happy to accept Nancy Hammer's invitation to sleep at her house rather than the church. She had plenty of space, and carpeted floors to sleep on. Now we had a hot bath, some a massage to gently knead the tired muscles. The day had been especially hard for Debbie, and she would not walk tomorrow, her last day of the week's vacation she had spent walking from Charlotte. Still, her hundred miles was the highest for any guest walker since we left Louisiana.

The day had evidently been hard on Ishiyama, and we were concerned about his health -- so much so that we changed our policy on accepting donated food: no more with high salt content. This was a big sacrifice for Sakamaki, nicknamed "Chipmonk" after he ate a pound of potato chips for supper. He loved them.

I went to sleep in the basement, around l0 o'clock. Others were up past midnight, eating popcorn and singing. Where did these people get their energy?

   March 26, Greensboro to Winston-Salem
After a tearful farewell to Debbie, we walked west, contrary to our northeast course. There were two reasons to go to Winston-Salem. It was a large city. And there was a young but strong disarmament movement there, CAN-Disarm. We were driven to Kernersville and walked the remaining l7 miles.

The weather was cold and windy. Carrying the banner, we'd have to fight to keep from being blown into the road; luckily, our frontage road didn't have much traffic. Banner-holders changed every 45 minutes.

As we left Kernersville, two city policemen greeted us without cordiality -- a prelude to the rest of the day. They were angry, and prepared to arrest us for getting out of the car on the road. If they got one complaint about us, we would all be arrested; furthermore, if one person stepped over the white line onto the road, he would be arrested for blocking traffic. Then they watched, from no more than a block away, while we walked out of the city limits; we would wave and smile each time we walked past a parked patrol car; at last they began smiling and waving back, but we were relieved to be out of Kernersville.

Not sure of a support vehicle, we carried our lunches. Linda Wolfe, Quaker minister from Winston-Salem, was there at lunch with water. Luckily: we had missed an intersection and were already two miles off our route. She was a lucky presence also in being able to take Ishiyama, so sick and weak he could barely stand up. Jane went ahead to stay with him, and we all rode with Linda as far as the missed intersection.

We were successful in reaching the Burger King, where our supporters were to meet us, right on schedule at 3:30. But no one was there. We got hot coffee and waited half an hour. Then, since we had directions to the church, we went on, though it meant more walking. We stayed on the sidewalk, not having a parade permit. As we crossed the I-40 overpass, four police cars pulled up and stopped the walk. The person who had talked with the police and been told we didn't need a permit if we stayed on the sidewalk had been misinformed, we were informed.

Now the police were nervous that day, the first day of the grand jury investigation of the KKK and Nazis, charged with violating the civil rights of the five Communist Workers Party members killed in Greensboro in November '79. The KKK had been denied a permit to march on the courthouse that very day; the city feared they would march anyway. We were halted swiftly when spotted. They held us on the bridge over an hour, driving Carole to headquarters to talk with the city attorney.

Now TV, radio, and newspapers picked up the incident. We were surrounded by cameras and notebooks; reporters expected us to be arrested, one station reporting we had been. A local woman who had happened on us and joined our walk pointed out an undercover policeman whom she had seen marching with the Klan.

Eventually Carole returned, accompanied by Linda and the city attorney. The police realized now that we were not KKKers without robes and would not arrest us -- unless we continued the walk. We were less than a mile from the church; most did not want to provoke an arrest, we told Morishita. For one thing, it would put a strain on our finances if we paid bail to walk on. Most of our supporters had strapped themselves more than they really should have. But...it was up to Morishita. He talked again with the attorney.

Unhappy with any decision, he decided to discontinue the walk, and the police gave us a ride to the church. I rode with a young Black policewoman. It developed that she and I had recently been social workers for the state. Ex-social workers are found in the strangest places. She was friendly and wished us luck.

Ishiyama and Jane were waiting for us at the church, worried because we were so late. Ishiyama was feeling much better. Everyone was happy that the day's walk was done, and when we joined hands for song and prayer before supper, I sang a few lines of a song. "Oh, the police makes it hard, boys, wherever I may roam / And I ain't got no home, in this world, anymore."

After supper, we were to go to a meeting. I was sick with a headache and couldn't go. I slept early. The day had taken its toll. go to page 28