by G. Jack Urso
All the debate
about standing up or kneeling for the national anthem might lead one to believe
that it is a fairly recent phenomenon, but it is an old, time-honored tradition
of protest.
I recall an
incident in 1986 at Houghton College, a Conservative Evangelical Christian college I attended.
I was protesting Selective Service and the 1982 Solomon Amendment which denied
college financial aid (loans and grants) to male students who do not register
for Selective Service by the age of 24. While one may say it was the young
men’s own fault for not registering, I ask you — when was the last time you saw
an ad on TV or in the paper or a magazine, heard a PSA, or saw or a poster at a
school or post office promoting it?
The Solomon
Amendment to Selective Service was finally repealed in December 2020, but only
after a generation of young men who failed to register for Selective Service
for 38 years were denied financial aid. Typically, these were drop-outs who only
learned of the requirement after they got their lives on track and applied to
college.
I had already
protested Selective Service earlier in the year in the chapel during a talent
show when the college’s resident cover band, The Pledge, for whom I played
bass, played “Johnny B. Good.” As we walked off after the song, I grabbed the
lead singer’s microphone and asked, “Ronald Regan says the Selective Service is
not the draft, but a list. A list for what? In case we’re invited to his
birthday party?”
A mild protest
by any stretch of the imagination, but it initiated a quick response, including
a chorus of “Oooooos,” “Boos,” and a few hisses. One young theology major in
charge of the audio board nearly impaled himself running back to the board to
shut off the mic. I actually liked the guy and regretted putting him in that
position, but I was a young man with long hair and on a mission. I was not to
be denied.
Then, later in 1986,
a Canadian basketball team played our school. I stood for their national anthem
and pointedly sat down during the U.S. anthem, furthering my protest against
the Selective Service. I was in the front row on the top tier of the gym
overlooking the court, so it was pretty obvious as well. Predictably, I got
some dirty looks, but no one said anything to me. It was a silent protest and I
said nothing.
The Resident
Director of my dorm approached me in the bathroom after the game and asked why
I didn’t stand up. While I had a political reason, I choose not to offer it.
Instead, I asked him:
"Do I have
to?"
"No, but
it’s respectful."
“OK, so it’s not
a rule. Will it affect my grades if I don't?"
"No."
"Will I get
kicked out of the dorm if I don’t?"
"No."
"Will I get
kicked out of school if I don't?"
"No."
"Then what
exactly is the problem?" I asked.
"Some
people found it offensive," he said.
I thought a
moment as I stood in front of the urinal trying to concentrate on why I was
there.
“Well, I’m
standing up now. Want to invite everybody in and we’ll bang out a verse?”
The RD sighed
deeply, knowing he was getting nowhere with me.
As he turned to
leave and opened the door, I shouted so everyone could hear.
“Hey! All
employees must wash their hands!”