Half A Century With A Wink

From Byron

Byron Black

 

 

The more time passes, the more time seems to pass as in a dream. Technology can be terrible but that which has brought us all together on-line is certainly magical, and it is through the internet that I re-established contact, first with Jim and Chau Yoder, then through them with Le Han and Nghia, two old pals from the Fresno State days.

I should have tried to stay in contact after I escaped from Fresno – but how? Only my oldest penpal, Richard Markley, determinedly maintained an exchange of letters with me, all my years in Japan, Canada and now Indonesia, where I’ve lived since 1988.

No, I’ll start at the beginning. No I won’t – that would be too long and drawn out. The beginning I'll start with is my rather lackluster academic career in the doctoral progam of the Department of Linguistics at the University of Texas in Austin, in 1966. I was ‘ABD’ (‘all but dissertation’), close to a Ph.D., and had previously helped set up an ESL program for medical students at La Universidad del Valle, Cali, Colombia, working for the Rockefeller Foundation.

My dissertation supervisor, the famed Professor Winfred P. Lehmann, perhaps sensing that I wasn’t going to complete my Ph.D. program (I didn't) was contacted about a combined teaching / administrative position way out in the San Joaquin Valley of central California. I’d never even heard of Fresno, and Bingo! suddenly I was ‘Campus Coordinator’ of the US/AID ‘Scholarship for Leadership’ Project.

I had spent several years studying and working in Japan by that time, spoke Japanese and actually planned to live in that country someday. But I had had no contact at all with Vietnamese people. So the experience in Fresno was new for me on a number of levels.

Nor was I particularly ‘political’ when I first moved to central California – I described myself as a ‘Cold War Liberal’, and coming from an Air Force family was rather conservative in my political outlook. The war in Vietnam was far from my concern at that time, but contact with my Vietnamese students quickly changed that, along with Lyndon Johnson’s bombings, reports of atrocities, mass movements against the war, and the general mood in California (though not at Fresno State College, which was a definitely reactionary ‘agribusiness’ institution).

I lived in the same apartment complex with my students, and they were the ones who soon radicalized me against the American aggression on Vietnam. Here we were – me getting paid to work for the US Government, my students undoubtedly vetted by military intelligence back in Saigon, and I found myself become a vocal opponent of the war. Ironic, yes. And certainly not acceptable on college campuses in the 1960s, not with Ronald Reagan as Governor of California anyway.

I participated in demonstrations – the Fresno Resistance – made speeches, and even created an ‘artistic expression’ by flying a huge supermarket balloon with a hanging banner which read, rhetorically, ‘HOW MUCH MEAT DO  YOU NEED FOR YOUR MACHINE?’ The administration, led by President Frederick Ness, was dismayed and annoyed. My key opponent was a Professor of Speech named Philip Walker, who was amusingly a dead ringer for V. Lenin. Very much pro-war, pro-American exceptionalism.

I went to Century City to participate in an antiwar demonstration where Mohammed Ali spoke; he signed my draft card. That was the same draft card I later ate, smothered in Heinz catsup, and made worldwide headlines.

 

 

Causing a scandal in conservative Fresno

(and for the record I was protesting the WAR and not the DRAFT)

 

And lost my job because of my activity. AND was indicted by a Federal Grand Jury in Fresno for ‘Destruction of United States Government Property’. I offered to give back the draft card after it passed through me but they were not interested.

The local draft board attempted to induct me – at age 27 undoubtedly what is known as a ‘punitive draft’ – but I refused to go into the military. I did not approve of the U.S.A. waging war on a country that had done nothing to it (actually Ho Chi Minh was an admirer of George Washington and the American Revolution).

My students were meanwhile busily studying away, thinking of their future and their families as the war back home in Vietnam rolled on. It was corrupting America as well: GIs were fragging their officers, hating the war, openly smoking marijuana on the battlefield; the CIA was deep into the narcotics business, often smuggling heroin back to the U.S.A. in the sealed coffins of dead soldiers. It was tragic all-around.

I had two choices: continue battling Lyndon Johnson, go to court in the U.S.A. and even go to jail, or become a political refugee. I chose the latter path.

It was after I left that Nguyen Thai Binh attempted to hijack a 747 on the runway in Saigon and was shot to death for his troubles. I heard through the grapevine that I was to blame for radicalizing him. I had ‘corrupted’ my students!! Priceless, since it was the other way around. Although I certainly never felt in the wrong: I knew that standing up for my principles was my only path.

In late 1968 I was hired by CYCLE WORLD Magazine to be their ‘Japan Correspondent’ (they were unaware of my political problems). I spent a year working in Japan before the American Embassy cancelled my passport and the Japanese government revoked my visa. I had 24 hours to decide: Stockholm or Vancouver.

 

My main love in life – racing motorcycles.

That's why my career in academia was doomed, most likely.

Home in Texas, riding a Yamaha TD-2 at the Aqua Fest in Austin 1966.

 

 

I chose the latter and flew out on December 27, 1969. The Immigration guy in Canada said he had been informed my passport was revoked – but it looked fine to him so he let me in (wink wink). I also had $2000. to show that I wasn’t going to become a liability.

Ten years in Canada, pursuing a media and art career, with very mixed results. I produced what I thought were excellent films and videos but among other artists my name was mud. So in 1980 – the charges against me all dropped after my retired Air Force father went to Fresno and talked to officials – I decided to work in Japan again, as a Video Instructor in Osaka. That lasted just over three years; living in Japan is high-pressure and they really basically do not like foreigners; so I moved on, working for the Government of Thailand, also in video, from 1984~1986. I liked living in Thailand, had many Thai friends – but making a living there was problematical.

 

I made some funny movies, such as THE MASTER OF IMAGES (1972).

My first wife, Lulu du Ulul, was my ‘star’.

 

Then in 1986 I attempted to re-enter American society – big mistake. I found by this time that I was so ‘Asian-ized’ that I did not fit any longer into the rough’n’tough U.S.A. So bye-bye once more and here we are in Jakarta, living with monkeys and boys since 1988. How time passes when you’re having fun.

 

I’ve been living with monkeys in Indonesia since 1991.

 

 

 

Years and years later, serious bicyclist,

riding the hills of West Java,

just surviving into old age (also with vicious monkey).

 

 

I also found out that someone uploaded an essay I wrote upon leaving Fresno State (and had forgotten about). Check it out at this location:

http://www.walkinginla.com/Page2/ByronBlk/byronblk.html

 

Byron Black