New York, NY–We gathered downtown in New York City to welcome home our fellow Occupy Wall Street protesters and occupiers from around the country who had just marched in the blazing summer weather on a multi-day trek from Philadelphia to New York. We welcomed them and of course marched on Wall Street, converging at Zuccotti Park where it all began last September. It was beautiful: we were singing, speaking out, and talking with friends whom we had not been seen in a long time. It felt a bit like the park last fall. It was peaceful, loving, and communal.

At the height of this beauty the NYPD came into the park and began arresting someone for drumming. This man had been drumming the entire day but the orders were not given to come in and make arrests until we were all at the height of our solidarity, that thing which threatens state and corporate power so absolutely. Another man was filming the arrest and then cops jumped on him, threw him to the ground, and beat him before arresting him. I witnessed this entire scene personally as did many others. The occupiers from other locations were dumbfounded by the militancy of the New York Police Department. Of course, when beatings and arrests like this happen we converge and it all becomes very emotional because the brutality of the state, while they are doing the bidding of neo-liberal capital power, is the embodiment of what we are  rising up against. It is a very direct tactic the cops use to break up our communal experience; it is when we are at the height of our peaceful experience and connecting with each other that they break it up thru violence.

Needless to say after this the momentum of our gathering was interrupted and cops began marching through the park randomly picking people and making futile efforts at intimidation. It was a scene I have seen so many times at protests, scattered people in shock. This went on for some time while the violence and threat of violence only grew as did the separation of the masses. After the police action the crowd that was originally a cohesive body of people was a mass of individuals and small gatherings who were in shock and awe of the violence.

It was in this space that I began to hear something. It was very low like a background noise but it was growing. It sounded calming, like a humming of some sort. I looked over and saw a few individuals who had come together and where ohming, you know, going “ooooohhhmmm,” a meditative sound. It was so calming that the shocked individuals began gravitating toward the sound and joining the circle.The circle slowly began to grow and grew and grew, bringing more people into it. As the circle grew the calming sound grew. I joined, and the feeling of peace while I stood in that circle ohming was so powerful that it took me away and grounded me at the same time. I closed my eyes and let myself go into that experience. When I opened my eyes the circle had grown so large that it had encompassed much of the park, and all of the cops were now on the outside of the circle, and outside of the park. What remained in that space where violence, fear, shock, awe, and fragmentation had existed only moments before was now peace, calmness, safety, solidarity, and love.

I promise you all that another world is possible and we can create it–even in the face of greed, violence, and selfishness. We created it that night at Zuccotti Park.

- Sean McAlpin -

Editor’s note: You may read another perspective of the same night in Zuccotti here. If you were there as well, share with us your story. Photo by Julia Reinhart.

Editor’s note: This story is one of many that recount events related to the Occupy National Gathering in Philadelphia. You may read another account from the 99 Mile March here.

New York, NY–The first Occupy National Gathering had just come to an end, and occupiers lined the fence surrounding Independence Hall, waiting to depart on the Guitarmy 99 Mile March from Philadelphia to New York. The march would take seven days, but I was only able to accompany them for the first three.

We made our way through some pretty unpleasant areas on the first day. Hours after the march had begun, we hadn’t even encountered the smallest park. There wasn’t even an attempt to recreate nature. Someone made an observation that we had lost our connection to it. “We paved paradise and put up a parking lot,” they said, making reference to Joni Mitchell’s Big Yellow Taxi. We usually drive though cities so quickly. It’s harder to recognize what you’re missing when you move so fast. We slowed down time that day, and it was really unsettling seeing just how much we’ve paved away the beauty of this world. The last time I remember feeling that out of touch with nature was when I first walked the streets of Florence, Italy, where the streets are so narrow that they can’t even line them with trees. It leads me to ponder what was behind the drive to almost totally remove ourselves from that which gives us life.

We encountered many people over those first three days. Some people would look on us with an air of total confusion. “Why would anyone walk in this heat? What are these people doing? Are they crazy?”  Then, there were those who would look on with curiosity, look on as if they were searching for something and didn’t fully realize that this was it yet. They were undoubtedly intrigued. They wanted to know more. I was able to pass out a flyer for my blog in those situations hoping that they would pull up the web address and come to see the real reason why 70 people would march 99 miles in that heat, why we felt it so important to bring our message to the road. It’s unfortunate that we didn’t have the time to really relay that message in person.

Of course, we encountered a handful of people who felt the need to throw pure venom. A car would pass throwing phrases like, “Get a job” or “Take a bath.” One man even honked at us just to give us the finger. One’s first reaction to this might be anger or retaliation, but I just get sad now when I witness this because it’s so uninformed. The ones who are confused or curious are half awake or in the process of waking up, but the ones that are that angry are still so deep in slumber that it really demonstrates how far we still have to go. Luckily, those people were the exception.

I would say a good majority of the people we encountered responded in a very positive way. Some were overcome with joy at the sight of Occupy. The sound of horns honking in support of us was quite frequent and definitely uplifting. People would often smile and throw their arms up as we’d pass. The first of three encounters that had the most affect on me was where a man strung a hose out of his basement window to give us a break from the heat of the day. He told us, “I’m too old to be out there with boots on the ground, but I’m grateful that you guys are doing it.” A woman at his house offered their bathroom to the marchers, and he decided to march a mile or so with us, getting a taste of what he longed for and supported from afar. The second incident was when a young girl and her mother were running cold water out to us from their refrigerator, and the third was when we passed a bar with all of its windows open, and people came to the windows to cheer and wish us success. It was amazing to see the faces of the people who struggle with us and clutch to hope that this might bring the shift that they’ve so longing for.

There were occupiers from all over the country on the march, as well as an indignado from Spain. Among the marchers were occupiers from Houston and Portland and New Haven and Los Angeles and Philadelphia and New Jersey. All would form a real bond by the end. There was tension in the first few days arising from some miscommunication and the lack a horizontal structure that occupiers so long for. We’re all still learning how to walk. People made some mistakes, but every time we have the courage to put ourselves in these situations that can be uncomfortable, we learn from them, and that will make us more prepared for some of the things we might have to face in the future on a much larger scale.

It’s beautiful that some put so much of their time into putting such an action together, and it’s extremely beautiful that we are among people who refuse to just be taken care of. Occupiers want to have their hands in it. They prefer horizontal rather than hierarchical. It’s important that everyone is able to contribute and play a role in society, and for that week, the march was a society. Like Zuccotti, as I’m sure other occupations around the world, building a functioning society is not done without its tribulations. I wish I had been able to stay for the entire march to watch that evolve.

Another challenge that the community faced was the serious mental instability of one of the members. It was clear that the trauma this person had experienced living in this dysfunctional world had really had a debilitating affect on her. She was poised for confrontation. Even saying something nice to her at the wrong time would provoke an insult, and at times when she would come to you and seem in a better state, the littlest thing could trigger her and send her into a rage. In the time I was there, I started to observe things that would mitigate here. She liked to cook, and she liked to sing. She even expressed during one of her moments of clarity that she needed to keep busy to stay out of her head. It would have been a real sign of progress if the community had been able to keep her on and encourage the activities that made her feel good about herself. Unfortunately, she was given a bus ticket to New York. Perhaps it was too difficult a situation to really give her the time and energy that would have been required. I really feel that the movement needs to work at creating a safe and empathetic place for people like that. This society that we’re fighting against has created a lot of dysfunction and instability. I think Occupy was probably the most accepting environment she had ever been in. At times, she begged us to work with her condition. I think a great deal of healing could come from an environment that really took the time to do so.

It was overall a really beautiful experience, and nothing to me brings beauty in a way that music does. The first night at the farm, we had a concert. It was a time that we really got to see our old and new friends shine individually. Each person brought their beauty to the experience, a collective beauty that erupted when we reached the Staten Island Ferry Station. An Occupier from Houston belted out the beautiful lyrics from a song called One Day by Matisyahu, and the rest of us sang along. I can’t imagine a more relevant song for our current situation. It was a beautiful moment. The energy and love and passion and determination all swam together in a colorful symphony. Everyone was beaming with joy, accomplishment and hope.

On our arrival to Zuccotti, the marchers sang it again to all of the New York occupiers who came out to welcome them, and for one day, we were able to again experience the vibrancy and energy of our occupation at Liberty Square, and it will not be the last time. The NYPD can harass us. Congress can make laws to try and stifle us. They can even incarcerate a beloved member. We will not stand down. This revolution is happening. Embers of it can be seen in cities all over the world, and each step we take forward brings us closer to a time when it’s a blazing inferno of love. The members of this march took a lot of those steps, and I am honored to have been able to share some of those steps with such beautiful people.

 - Stacy Lanyon -

Photos by Stacy Lanyon. Check out Stacy’s website, At the Heart of an Occupation, which profiles individuals of the Occupy movement.

New York, NY–Wednesday, July 11th I awoke refreshed. The day I had been anticipating since leaving Philadelphia  had finally come. The Guitarmy would land in lower Manhattan via Staten Island Ferry, some 99 miles from their departure point, and would return to our home in the concrete jungle. Sitting at work I found myself scanning livestreams, scouring Twitter feeds and counting down the seconds to 5:30.

Before I arrived at Zuccotti there were a few arrests, and an elderly woman had even been knocked unconscious. By the time I had made my way down, the park, though surrounded by police, was peaceful in stark contrast to the events earlier in the day. Friends were sitting and chatting, the familiar sound of jackhammers pounding in the distance. An announcement session broke out and I listened in as report backs circled. News broke that Occupy San Diego would be planning a National Gathering for 12.12.12, dubbing the action “A Day Without Borders,” as well as announcements on the GA reboot and other Occupy projects. Acoustic music and singing flowed over the park, people were laughing and smiling again.  It was almost like we had a chance in hell at a peaceful evening.

That’s when I noticed the wall closing around us. In two tight, single-file lines, the boys in blue stood at the top of the steps. Staring down at their prey as if they were hawks on the hunt, a new addition to their uniforms piqued my interest: gloves. Thick, black, leather gloves. My stomach dropped, they descended the steps and the powderkeg began to explode.Their sights were set, and in a clear attempt to incite a negative response they narrowed their focus on an elderly woman, sitting in a lawn chair, kitting. A clear and present danger to the general public, she had to be removed, immediately.  The swarm of blue sent chills up my spine, I was suddenly surrounded. With my cellphone in hand I began furiously tweeting and taking photos, being pushed around by the massive crowd attempting to protect our comrade from the forceful hands of the NYPD. I felt a strong shove and then a sharp pain in my arm. An officer was grabbing me, screaming at me that I had to leave the park.

“GET OUT! The park is closed,” he said.

“Pardon me, Officer, but this is a privately owned public space which is required to be open to the public 24 hours a day,” I replied snarkily. “The park is not closed, I do not have to leave,” I squeaked as he grabbed my arm tighter and shoved me face-first onto the cement bench.

I threw my arms in the air in an attempt to visually reinforce that I was not resisting any type of arrest, only their blatant disregard for our right to peaceably assemble. I was thrown backwards into the sea of blue, my arm still being squeezed by the brute. I screamed “I DO NOT HAVE TO LEAVE, THE PARK IS NOT CLOSED.”

He rang my arm tighter. “If you don’t get the fuck out, I’m going to arrest you.”

I fell to the ground as the stampede swept through the park, taking with it the beautiful energy we had created.

Over the next few hours, the game of cat and mouse continued. Targeted arrests left our voices hoarse, screaming “Winski, how do you sleep at night?!”

All we could do was shout and console each other. Dazed and confused we began to join hands. Only a few of us at first, then growing gradually larger, we came together to Ohm and bring peace back to the space. Bring peace back to our home. Eventually, it seemed as if the entire park was a part of the circle. Positive energy pulsing through our park once more, we erupted in a mic check and thanked each other for the beauty of the moment. We all needed it.

I lingered a while longer, but knowing I had work in a few hours decided to call it a night when most of the tension had died down. Usually, I try to reflect on the events of the evening or write down my thoughts when I leave an action but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. July 11th marked a new dawn in the NYPD’s tactical response to Occupy that shocked and revolted me.

I didn’t sleep at all that night.

- Nicole Rose -

Photos by Julia Reinhart

Editor’s note: This post originally appeared at 99% Solidarity.

Southampton, NY–It’s never easy to take the dramatic step of confronting an unfortunate soul about their dependence on a dangerous substance and the harm it is doing to those around them. On Sunday, July 8, OWS, Occupy Storefront, The Long Island Progressive Society, United New York, and other groups, joined together at an intervention in Southampton to talk to Mitt Romney about his Koch addiction.  While Romney may not be concerned about his debilitating craving for Koch cash, the effect of his (and Obama and other politicians) obsessive need for hundreds of millions of 1%er dollars has terrible consequences for the rest of us.  The $50,000 dollar per couple fundraiser sponsored by David Koch at his beach house was the perfect opportunity to get Mitt to take that first big step toward recovery: admitting you have a problem.

Though the Koch brothers are certainly not the only ones who use their billions to influence our government to the detriment of the 99%, they are apt representatives of the problem.  They poured millions into Wisconsin to prevent the recall of Governor Scott Walker.  Koch money has gone into the fight against healthcare, support for Citizens United, attacks on public education, funding for ALEC, union busting, and many other regressive campaigns.  They also use their wealth to prevent the use of alternative fuel sources and reductions in the use of fossil fuels.  The Koch brothers and their ilk have little regard for the 99%; they seek only to hasten the demise of the middle class and increase their profits.  At times their behavior is outright criminal.  In 2000, David and Charles Koch’s company was indicted on criminal charges related to the dumping of 91 tons of liquid benzene, a chemical linked to childhood leukemia, into a stream in Corpus Christie, Texas. After successfully lobbying the newly appointed Attorney General John Ashcroft in 2001, David and Charles reduced their criminal counts to a $350 million dollar fine for falsifying documents related to the dumping.

Though it was obvious we were headed to the getaway of the elite, as soon as we arrived in Southampton and looked around it struck us acutely that we sure were not in Kansas anymore.  We passed by the huge estates of the 1%, some with gatehouses that were bigger than my home.  The gathering place was at Coopers Beach.  Activists arrived by car and bus, and by four o’clock around 250 of us had gathered on the roadway.  There was also a lot of press, which was encouraging.  Lining the road across from the beach access, we held our signs high as cars rolled past.  There were more shows of support than I expected, though some yelled out the standard “Get a job.”  When one occupier yelled back “I have two jobs,” the response was “that figures.”

Once gathered, we marched down to the protest point at the end of the street leading to David Koch’s residence.  It was a far cry from the city streets we are used to marching along.  Instead of monolithic buildings towering overhead, we marched past pristine beaches, wetlands, and palatial homes.  We stood with our banners and signs, chanting as the luxury vehicles of the 1% rolled by on their way to the fundraiser.  It was then that the Occupy “Romney Mobile” drove up, bedecked in corporate stickers, and almost made it past the roadblock.  Perhaps the (fake) dog strapped to the top was a giveaway.  As I took a break in the shade, one supportive resident of the area told me, “There’s never been anything like this here before.”

The heat was oppressive.  We stood in nearly triple digit temperatures for over an hour.  Heat has been an issue at the Chicago NATO action, NatGat, and this last action, which is ironic, since we may have been dealing with the consequences of global warming while protesting at the residence of someone who spends millions of dollars to refute global warming with pseudo-science.  Some of us decided to head to the beach and protest from the ocean side of the Koch mansion.  About a dozen of us marched, one carrying an American flag.  It was a good move.  The beach was cooler, and we walked along letting the refreshing waves lap at our feet.  When we reached the Koch residence we planted the flag Iwo Jima style in the sand dunes as the secret service and police looked on from the property.  We held up our signs and offered the security forces some water, since the Kochs hadn’t provided any refreshments.  Just then we looked above and saw a plane with a banner trailing behind it that read:  Romney has a Koch addiction.  It circled the estate for the entire action.  We were all feeling pretty exuberant.

Then we saw the rest of the protestors marching down the beach toward us, banners unfurled, signs held high.  They were a half mile away, just a blur, kicking up a cloud of sand.  It was a strangely beautiful scene, certainly not a typical day at the beach.  They reached us and we stood together shouting loudly, “Voters in, money out,” and such.  Photographers took pictures, live streamers worked up and down the crowd, and reporters did interviews.  There was ample documentation.  We continued for about an hour and it was getting close to the bus departure time.  Many occupiers took advantage of the locale and enjoyed some well deserved beach time.  Though our mission was serious, there was also something festive in the air.  Ocean breezes, white sands, the brilliant blue water and crashing waves, allowed everyone to end the day on a relaxed and joyful note.

Though two hundred fifty people might seem like a small turnout, it was interesting that we got as much attention and impact for this event as for actions where thousands were present.  The logistics for this beach invasion were difficult and the organizers did a good job with only a little time and limited resources.  And the numbers were adequate for the mission.  There’s a lesson to be learned here on effective messaging at the right time and place.  Money out of Politics is a core Occupy issue, as well as the focus of many other groups.  Working in coalitions and taking this message into the political arena in an election year where Obama and Romney may raise over a billion dollars combined will expose the true nature of our government, and, while we may not see an immediate solution, the voters may become much more skeptical about the candidates and the system.

- Stuart Leonard -

Editor’s note: This post is part of our #NatGat coverage. You can read the author’s coverage of the first day of #NatGat by clicking here, and can find day two here.

Philadelphia, PA–The third day of the Occupy National Gathering was full of energy and good conversation. Speaker Amadon DellErba from Spritualution discussed the importance of ending all “isms,” Gina McGill from Alabama promoted the ideas in Beyond Plutocracy, and Matt Taibbi exposed bank collusion. Captain Ray Lewis declined to speak in the group because of the many side conversations, but made himself available for any individual conversation throughout the afternoon.

At 5:00pm, a march began against Comcast and Verizon, and in solidarity with the NATO 5 (and the NatGat Occupier being held in the federal courthouse). It included a join up of union members and Occupiers, speeches from homeowners who have been foreclosed upon from Action United, and an energetic dancing protest down Broad Street and around City Hall.

The evening included songs from Reverend Billy and the Church of Stop Shopping and a General Assembly on racism. The assembly was cut short so that Occupiers could join the veterans on Independence Mall who were going to be evicted at 9:00pm. However, the veteran protesters were granted a twelve-hour extension, with negotiations to be held in the morning. Some Occupiers went to a bank sleep at Wells Fargo while others went back to the Friend’s Center parking lot to sleep.

- Zachary Bell -

Editor’s note: This post is part of our #NatGat coverage. You can read the author’s coverage of the first day of #NatGat by clicking here.

Philadelphia, PA–The second day of the Occupy National Gathering began with some sense of stability, with Franklin Square set as the permanent location for workshops and the Friends Center’s parking lot as the permanent sleeping area. However, the day of speakers and skill-shares precipitated an evening of arrests, with 25-30 reportedly taken into custody.

The morning of thematic meet-ups was followed by a series of speeches by activists like Occupier Lisa Fithian and CounterPunch contributor Mark Provost. At around 2:00pm, Occupiers broke out into workshops that ranged from the Money Out of Politics Voting Bloc to Code Pink.

A group of protesters, including many who are part of All In The Red, led a casserole march against debt, in solidarity with Montreal’s student strike. The protesters donning red squares were blocked off at Penn’s landing by a line of police. While there were arguments with police, and brief physical contact when cops let civilians pass through the line, there was no real confrontation.

At 6:00pm, Chris Hedges addressed the crowd of Occupiers. Hedges described the state of political America, including the death of the radical class, the “monstrosity of faux liberals like Bill Clinton and Barack Obama,” and the marginalization of structural critique in political discourse. He addressed Occupy’s future, articulating Occupy’s immediate goal “to reverse the corporate coup d’état and put the power back in the hands of people.” Hedges opined that the black bloc’s tactics are destructive because it plays into the hands “of those who want to destroy us” by demonizing Occupy in the mind of the public. But he remained hopeful and urged patience, citing his experience in movements that took time to build: “This is the dress rehearsal for the end of the corporate state.”

At 7:15pm, the first Occupy National Gathering Feminist General Assembly met. Through small and large group discussions, the participants in the FemGA shared how feminism can be alienating, shared common objectives (like ending sexual violence and strict gender roles) and listed the main goals of the FemGA.

By 9:00pm, Occupiers some were getting ready to settle into the parking lot at 4th and Arch and others were preparing to march in a jail solidarity protest. At around 10:30pm, a group of marching protesters were kettled and arrested. Cops used bikes to push Occupiers and refused calls by protesters to explain the charges. Of the 27 reportedly arrested, 7 were released by 9:45am. Others are being released slowly.

- Zachary Bell -

Editors note: Mark Adams is serving a forty-five day jail sentence for his participation in an occupy wall street event. This story orginally appeared on Support Mark Adams. 

Rikers Island Correctional Facility, NY – At 6:30 in the morning on Saturday, we met at the Queens Q100 bus stop moments before the heat struck. The bus comes frequently about every 20 minutes, but usually earlier than the scheduled time. We piled on with a group of predominantly female-presenting people carrying coffee, newspapers, and magazines with some children tagging along.  It was an easy 20-minute drive out through Queens. We took the time to check in with one another, preparing mentally and emotionally for what we expected to be terribly oppressive conditions, and also to learn a song with which we serenaded Mark.

The theme park-style signs surprised us with retro lettering inviting us to “Enjoy your visit to Rikers!” which is situated just a few meters from LaGuardia Airport. The idea of people flying freely around the world right over the heads of 14,000 trapped individuals seemed like torture.  Another sign read: “Bullying or intimidation of any kind by anyone of any age will not be tolerated. Period.”

The atmosphere going in was unexpectedly positive, complete with some smiling corrections officers; the first locker room was an open atrium, sunshine pouring in.  We needed quarters to deposit our things in the locker and surprisingly we got them back at the end.  We went through the first security check like standard airport scans, removing shoes, nothing metal permitted. Unfortunately, the harmonica we brought was not allowed in as a gift.

There are several boarding gates for the various housing centers of the prison complex, each with roughly 35 seats and 1 TV. The one to go to Mark is EMTC, and Fox News was on. We must have our photos taken and fingerprints scanned for our passport for the day before boarding a shuttle bus, so we tracked down a check-in desk with attending corrections officers, since the one in our gate was unattended. They asked each of us our relationship to Mark. We told them definitively, “Friend.” We went back to our gate, and waited for not even 10 minutes, boarded the bus to the Eric M. Taylor Center, the second stop.

We noted the spools of barbed wire atop the relatively flimsy chain-link fence lining all the grey buildings.  All the female-presenting visitors, predominantly of color, were very chatty and upbeat, laughing with the officers, making bunny ears on the bus driver. Children played with the security trays on their heads.  A few sitting nearby in the same waiting room asked us if it was our first time and made jokes about the different officers who check the inmate packages. They were going to visit partners, sons, husbands, and were very familiar with the system. It all felt oddly normalized. They said, “Saturday morning is the best time to visit, you just breeze right through.”

We went through another security check and then individual checks in a private room, asked to pull our socks down, unzip and lower our pants, run our fingers along our underwear and pull our pockets inside-out.  Female-assigned visitors should know that it is a requirement to wear a bra, though underwire will set off the metal detectors.  One visitor told us a story of one time forgetting to wear theirs when visiting their son and consequently forced to meet in a room separated by glass.

We waited in another room, this time similar to a hospital waiting room, for about 20 minutes facing a large TV blaring pop news about Tom Cruise.  Those who had visited many times told us, “No matter how early you get here, they never bring them out until 9:00 a.m. on Saturdays.”

Soon enough we were all called and led into a colorful basketball gym with rows of plastic chairs in every Crayola color. There was a caged children’s corner with an impressive mural of characters like Dora the Explorer and Big Bird, of Super Grover holding up an NYPD badge in the sky. Next to the officer surveillance booth which sits behind a tinted window, was a mural of the Manhattan skyline with the Twin Towers still intact.

A CO (corrections officer) shouted, “Go home everyone!  It’s too hot!” to the laughter and mock defiance of some visitors and indifference of others.

Then, solemn men in grey DOC jumpsuits began to file in and there was our Mark, not looking up to see us until about 20 feet away and then the beard slowly revealed a smile.  We pulled him into massive loving hugs but were quickly told we had to sit down.  We grasped his hands across the tiny round table for the entire visit.  At first Mark seemed very small, he kept his head down and tears streamed from his eyes while he expressed his sense of loss to us.  He said he doesn’t like who he is in here – that he feels he lost something the day he was taken to prison.  He said he has not discovered anything good about himself from being here, that “Nothing good should live in here.” He wants to leave this feeling behind when he comes out. It was very hard to see his obvious pain but we were encouraged by Mark’s awareness of his emotions and his openness to share with us, both the dark and the light. We discussed what skills he has developed to survive and get through this time and we assured him that he will find the old Mark again, and that he won’t have to bear the weight by himself, that he will have all his friends to hug any last bit of sadness out of him when he is free. We promised all the support, rehabilitation and love he may need when he rejoins us.

We sensed that he really wanted to talk so we mainly listened and chimed in when it felt right. He quickly perked up and started to make eye contact again, his face still holding a healthy glow and the twinkle in his eyes has not faded.  He talked a lot about being hungry and looking forward to eating again but he is dedicated to his hunger strike, sharing his food with other inmates at mealtimes. The doctors are attentive and concerned so he has two visits with them a day and is being well looked-after. He has the support of one doctor in particular who sympathizes with the symbolic meaning of the strike and tells Mark it will help him get rid of toxins.  He has lost some weight, about 8-10 lbs but said he gains some of it back in water weight quickly. He mostly keeps to himself, stays inside reading and sleeping. He avoids going out to the yard for exercise because of some dangerous fights after which he has witnessed people come back bloodied with injuries. Although, we were very happy to hear he has a bunch of people looking out for him through individual OWS members’ connections with gang members and skinheads. There is a team of unlikely guardians watching his back.

Mark did describe concerns with his cellmate who has been transferred with him several times, even though inmates are usually transferred individually. He described him as being very inquisitive, asking for Mark’s phone number and email so they can be in touch when they get out.  He asks lots of questions about Mark’s activities and politics. Mark chooses to remain quiet and keep to himself.

He is getting a reputation for the amount of letters he receives from all around the country – Texas and Alabama and Oklahoma – and even books from Vancouver, Canada.  One CO cheered him on once he found out he was from Occupy Wall Street. Mark loves getting letters and he even received a lock of hair from Diego and relished its softness but he discourages others from sending hair.  Rather, he encourages everyone to grow their hair out as he hopes to grow his beard out to reach his navel like in its glory days when he lived in Virginia. 

He has received so many books that his small plastic bin is now full, but is very thankful for what everyone has given although he had hoped for more Anarchist theory rather than Communist. He is currently reading a book about the Spanish Civil War and made jokes about how the anarchists are criticized by the author for sitting in circles and talking too much rather than fighting the war. Mark is disappointed at the lack of a library at Rikers. He was hoping he could leave his books there when finished, and when he leaves. He noted that books left around are thrown away by COs and staff rather than shared with inmates.

He is starting to write back, primarily to strangers from across the country who are writing him.  He would like to get more envelopes but hopes no one will be disappointed if they don’t hear back from him. We assured him that no one expects anything in return.

He was very curious to hear about what’s going on with OWS, and loved to hear about the protests at Trinity and the sleep-ins.  We told him how everyone’s Facebook profile photos and Twitter avatars are now mostly either his face or red squares. He was delighted and surprised to hear his Facebook page is still active and that it’s filled with messages of love and solidarity.  Keep posting on there so he can read through them all when he gets out!

He hates to be away from OWS and plans to jump right back into actions with his “family” although he hopes he can contribute without getting arrested. He is very worried about his open court cases where he will face the same DA and judge who sentenced him.  He has gone to court for one case already while in prison and he described it as a painful 13-hour long process that he does not want to endure again.

Overall, Mark was extremely optimistic about getting out, and brightly announced he’s already done 15 days, already talking about the party he wants to have – full of food (though we reminded him he should probably carefully ease back into eating,) his friends, and Care Bears. He misses his bicycle but was relieved to hear that it was rescued by TimesUp! and looks forward to riding again.  He spoke fondly of his going-away party at the Living Theatre and joked how the theater people there were confused by an anarchist party where people dance to Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys.  He is so thankful for this night and thinks back on it with much joy. He loved that there is an Otter Solidarity Group coordinating support efforts and laughed after hearing about the detailed forms people had to fill out to be able to visit him.

There will be little way of knowing when or where he will be released – which, if all goes well, will be on the 15^th of July.  From what Mark has heard, releases usually happen after the 5pm dinner, sometime in the middle of the night, after having to sit in an extremely cramped transfer cell for several hours. Meg, his lawyer, has promised to be on-call 24/7 to track his whereabouts so we can all be present to shower him with love.

There are no clocks in the room and we were not allowed watches unless it was for an inmate so we couldn’t discern how much time we had with Mark. We went in shortly after 9:00 and had our watches back on by 10:15. It seemed to go by so quickly.

We sang Mark this song (to the tune of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelejuah”):

They say Mark Adams ain’t free

but that just doesn’t ring true to me

’cause everywhere I go I see Mark Adams

They locked him up and it wasn’t fair

but he kept his spirit and he kept his beard hair

and everywhere the people rise for Mark Adams!

(chorus)

We love Mark Adams

We love Mark Adams

We love Mark Adams

We love Mark Adams

(repeat as long as needed)

Mark was clearly moved and said no one had ever written him a song before. He smiled from ear to ear and thanked us.

Like the thoughtful, caring being he is, Mark summoned the energy to be a gracious host.  He thanked us for going through the process to visit him and took the time to ask us each how we were doing and wanted to hear about our lives as well. He remembered that each of has been out of town recently and wanted to hear about our trips.

Before we knew it, we were asked to finish up.  We asked if there is anything he wants us to do, to bring. He does need some envelopes for writing letters because he’s only allowed one trip a week to the commissary and can only buy so many. Also, he could use white underwear (boxer-briefs) because all inmates wear underwear in the shower. White is the only color accepted by the DOC.  He looks forward to the surprise of his guests each time and trusts his solidarity network with decision-making.

We embraced him once more telling him we loved him and that we’ll see him soon when he is free!  He walked through the gym without looking back.  His face began to cloud over again as he stepped further and further away. By the end of our visit, it felt so familiar with us all laughing and talking about the future, it seemed like he would just walk out with us and head straight to a protest.

Saying goodbye left a sharp pain. We got our things from the locker in silence and then hugged each other. One friendly visitor from before asked how our friend was and they shared that their son was fine but the brightness of their earlier mood was now darkened.  The bus ride back was much quieter as we all gazed at those grey impassive walls barring us from our loved ones.  We took time afterwards to meet and process our visit, what we noticed about Mark, what we remembered, our own feelings and thoughts about freedom. We schemed designs for Mark Adams t-shirts and how we could construct a Care Bear-covered vehicle to collect him in and deliver him to the love and freedom that await him.

Keep the letters and the love coming!  He feels it and sends it back with every fiber in his body.

With solidarity and rage,

Monica

Brett

Amelia

Editor’s note: This post is part of our #NatGat coverage. You may read more #NatGat-related stories here.

Philadelphia, PA–On the first day of the Occupy National Gathering, the excitement to meet one another was hampered by police confrontation. This led to indecision and internal arguments over contingency plans, but by the evening, Occupiers were safely assembled at jail solidarity or at the National Gathering Comedy Show.

The afternoon began with workshops around issues like the All In The Red debt campaign and the War on Drugs. Through the afternoon, the Occupy Caravans delivered activists from Tuscon, Wichita, Los Angeles, Salt Lake City and many more cities from around the country, who were all formally welcomed at the informational meeting at 3:30 on Independence Mall. At the meeting, National Gathering Working Group members explained issues from food to legal safety, reviewing the logistics Occupy National Gathering Welcome Packet.

At 6pm, an enthusiastic and dance-filled March to End Corporate Personhood began at Wells Fargo and looped around to the park behind Independence Mall. The heavy police presence prompted a series of mic-checks, in which Occupiers shared a range of opinions about Occupy’s relationship with the cops.

Around 7pm, an Occupier attempted to put down a cot and police officers and park rangers informed the group that any setting up of bedding was prohibited. Occupiers set down a tent and surrounded it in solidarity. Members of the Philadelphia Police strike force pushed through the protest line using bikes to clear Occupiers. In the clashes, one Occupier was arrested while others were knocked to the ground. The officers carried away all sleeping material, including those not being set up.

Still surrounded by police, the conversation was strained about what to do next. NatGat Working Group members informed the assembled that Occupiers were legally allowed to sleep on sidewalks, which would also show solidarity with Philadelphia’s homeless, or stay at 4th and Arch in the parking lot of the Philadelphia Friend’s Center. However, the ring of police around the meeting made some feel uncomfortable with a discussion about strategy, causing the attempted impromptu assembly to largely devolve. Most went to 4th and Arch, although others remained in the park or went elsewhere.

At a little after 9pm, a group of Occupiers gathered in the Friends’ Center parking lot for the upcoming entertainment, while another group went to the Philadelphia roundhouse to do jail solidarity for the arrested protester — who was reportedly arrested for assaulting a police officer on federal property. The National Gathering Comedy Show was hosted by N.A. Po of Occupy Philly and included several local comedians. Activists drank from water jugs and enjoyed pizza and snacks in the parking lot where many settled for the night.

- Zachary Bell -

Editor’s note: This post is part of our #NatGat coverage. You may read more #NatGat-related stories here.

Philadelphia, PA–I’ve done the All in the Red casseroles marches weekly in New York and was curious to see what it would be like in a different city. Arriving to the Occupy National Gathering in Philadelphia on Sunday, this was my first march as part of the National Gathering, and my first ever protest in Philadelphia, and I was unsure of what to expect but mostly optimistic and excited. It would be interesting to participate in a march that (as far as I knew in the United States) was only happening on a regular basis in my home city, but this time in a new place with a group of unfamiliar people.

Shortly after we began, there was a split between those who wanted to take the streets and those who did not. I recognized those who organized and were pacing the march were from New York; where we’re from, taking the streets is a risk in which you may be arrested immediately for setting one foot in the road. But the cops here cruised on their bicycles, letting us move freely. The pacers responded by mic checking that they supported autonomous action but were not recommending or suggesting we walk in the street. But once it seemed as though the police truly did not care, they and most of the march poured into the street.

Because many of us are from different cities, and therefore have varying experiences with different police forces, everyone seemed to react differently to the authorities. I was not in Philadelphia the day before, so I had no previous experience with the Philadelphia Police Department and could only go by their indifference to our taking the street, and felt that the police were being very permissive and respectful. But a few people taunted the police while others yelled at comrades in the streets things like “Good luck getting arrested!” Few of us from out of town anticipated the police’s leniency, and I probably wasn’t the only one who wondered how long this would last.

The bulk of the march was spent walking east on Market Street. I had been here before a few times years ago, going across the river to Philadelphia for concerts in my teen years, but the new context made the place seem rather alien. The last time I visited here was before I moved to New York, and today the city seemed desolate and devoid of people—but here on Market Street, people stopped, stood and watched us.

We approached Penn’s Landing, and many of us out-of-towners weren’t quite sure where the bridge led to. We took the bridge, and when we made it half-way across we circled around and came back. “We shouldn’t have turned around,” I heard someone say behind me. “Why don’t we cross to the other side?” A few steps after our turn-around we stopped again with a mic check from a pacer: apparently, we were originally meant to cross the bridge but the front of the march had come upon a wall of cops on the other side. Not wanting to start conflict with them, those in front decided to turn around and walk back. But some protesters took issue with this and wanted to face the cops. Would we continue on this new path, off the bridge on the side we entered, or confront the police?

Opinions divided, and the march did as well. I followed the group that went back towards the police, but there was no clear strategy as to what to do once we met with them. What were we here for? Some said confronting the police was exactly the reason why we had all come together; others said this march was only to educate and raise awareness to the student debt crisis, and that conflicts with the police would only muddy that message and invite criticism we didn’t need. So we ended up doing a lot of standing and sitting on the other end of the bridge in front of the police. I heard one guy gossip that obviously an undercover had suggested that we move back towards the police instead of re-routing; another one was showing rumors that he received on his phone that police re-enforcements were on their way to kettle and arrest us all.

There was slight conflict with civilians when the police opened up space in their wall to allow civilians from a street festival on the other side of the bridge to pass. I wasn’t so close to see what happened—I expect protesters tried to squeeze through—but I heard a lot of yelling as a mother and her kids (and then other civilians, but she was doing the yelling) walked past us looking flustered. One girl said it best: “They see us as an inconvenience, and don’t realize that this inconvenience is a public service.”

We eventually decided to march back to Franklin Square Park. Again, we were divided between those in and out of the street, but the walk back was largely casual, with fewer chants. We made it back with pretty much no conflict, and lots of support from bystanders and drivers.

- Joe Sutton -