My name is Rebecca Howe. On May 4, 1970, I was in my dormitory room at Lake
Hall. At this particular time, I had chosen not to go to class because I knew
several people would be skipping class and going to the demonstration, so I
chose to not go to class and have lunch instead. Let me back up a little. I
had gone home for the weekend prior to this and, upon my return, found a large
number of tanks and Army personnel lining a path up to my dormitory. As my parents
and I entered, it gave me a very eerie feeling. And later my parents spoke of
questioning as to whether they should have left me there or not. That evening,
there was a lot of time for interpersonal communication between my roommate--roommates--at
Lake and the National Guardsmen. It was a matter of them coming to our window
because I lived on the first floor, chatting with us, sharing hot chocolate,
and lots of communication between people of the same generation.
I remember the floodlights and the sound of helicopters. And
even years later when I lived in Kent and some pranksters were flashing some
spotlights, I fell on the floor and crawled to the door because it was so frightening
and brought back so many memories.
Back to May 4th, at noon, at lunchtime. After eating lunch, I returned to my room to find blood dripping down the hall and into my dorm. My sister, who had been visiting, and also a nurse, was nowhere to be found. So, immediately I panicked. I remember finding my sister and one of the wounded students in the hall, and at this time we decided to help this young man. And, for years, I blanked this man's name from my mind because I remember he gave me his wallet and said, "Don't give this to anyone. I don't want them to know who I am." So, we escorted this young man to the Health Center, and at that time we saw all the other students who were either injured or dying. On the way, we stopped and tried to get help from--I'm not sure now if it was the State Patrol or the National Guardsmen--who were totally unaware of what had transpired.
Upon returning to my dorm, I remember much chaos and trying to keep the students in the dorm because I was, as I looked out I could see the National Guardsmen with bayonets and going towards the students. At that time, when we were told to leave, I remember taking as many things with us as we could and just trying to go somewhere, trying to find someone with a car. Finally, after walking three miles to an apartment where a friend of ours lived, we all got into a Volkswagen and started the long journey to our hometown, which was New Philadelphia. Along the way, we'd see lines of people waiting who had been commuters and who had been left on campus at the first notice that everyone should leave. We put as many people in our car as we could that particular time, but there were many of our friends that we saw stranded on the highways. And, at this time, I'm not sure how they ever managed to leave Kent.
As I reflect upon the event, it brings much sadness. And now that I'm attending
graduate school at Kent, oftentimes I feel as though I should think more about
the events of that particular year. I've explained it to my children; I want
them to understand. And they've done reports, and they've shared the information
that I've shared here today at their high school. I hope that this can continue
to be a remembrance of things that should never be.