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Remembering Dave

By Joe Miller & Barry Romo

Most of us knew that Dave Dellinger had been quite ill for some time, but the news of his death this past May still came as quite a shock. We got used to having Dave around, always the conscience of the movement for peace and social justice, always at the forefront of any activity that would expand freedom and equality. Now he is gone, but not from our hearts or our memories, and his fight — our fight — continues.

I first learned of Dave Dellinger around 1966 or 1967, while I was still in the Navy and becoming more and more radicalized by the Vietnam war. I read about him in all the underground newspapers I could find. I recall photographs of him splattered with red paint as he marched for peace and social justice with other movement figures like Staughton Lynd. He seemed awfully brave to me, as I was taking mild amounts of shit for speaking up against the war while in uniform. I admired how willing he was to continue the fight in the face of serious and often very dangerous reaction.

I was in the courtroom in Chicago in 1969, sitting next to Sid Lens, when Dave and the other members of the "Chicago Eight" were arraigned. Dave stood tall and fearless in the face of this government effort to railroad him and the others into prison for exercising their First Amendment rights.

Nearly twenty years passed befre I actually met Dave and got to know him a little better.

In 1988, he was invited to be a guest-in-residence at one of the dorms here at the University of Illinois. I attended as many of the public events as I could, gradually introducing myself to Dave. He was very happy to meet a continuing VVAW member in downstate Illinois, and he had many great things to say about our organization and, in particular, about Barry Romo, with whom he had maintained contact over the years.

Unfortunately, Dave's visit to Champaign-Urbana was cut short that time, as he received word that his son had just passed away from cancer. I still remember the tears in his eyes as he chatted with me on the afternoon of his departure.

After that, Dave returned to Champaign-Urbana a few more times, including two trips with his life-partner Elizabeth Peterson. In these later years, Dave was clearly more frail, but the spark in his eyes and the fire of his commitment lit up the rooms in which he spoke.

Dave's legacy to the struggle for a nonviolent world is considerable. For us in VVAW, he holds a very special place, as he is remembered for his efforts to bridge the supposed gap between the peace movement and the GIs and veterans during the Vietnam war. In 1966 he wrote:

In a sensible world it would be obvious that there is a natural alliance of sympathy and common interest between the men whose lives and limbs are threatened in a dishonest and unnecessary war and those who are trying to bring that war to an end. It would also be obvious that among those who are exempt (because of age, occupation, sex or other accidental circumstance) it takes more courage, more loyalty to one's fellows who are bearing the brunt of the war, to speak up for peace than to keep conveniently and safely quiet. This does not mean that the peace demonstrators are necessarily right in everything they say or do, but it should be clear that their motives and character are different than is often suggested by the government and its most narrow-minded supporters.

— From Dellinger's foreword to "In the Teeth of War: Photographic Documentary of the March 26th, 1966, New York City Demonstration against the War in Vietnam"

Nearly forty years later, these words carry weight in the current struggles against war and for social justice. Dave Dellinger lives on in the spirit of these words and in the memories of those who witnessed him in action. We'll miss you, Dave.

Joe Miller

I was lucky to be Dave Dellinger's friend for more than 30 years. I first met him when I moved to New York City to serve in VVAW's National Office — heady times for a young Chicano from San Bernardino, California. There I met this famed pacifist from the Chicago Eight and instantly liked him.

We worked together closely in Miami during the political conventions. He started a hunger strike, and a number of VVAW members joined in. I did too, but didn't last a day.

I am not a pacifist, but he did not try to convert me. Not because I wasn't worth it, but because he led by example instead of preaching. When I fell into sectarianism, we remained friends. When I fell out of ultra-leftism and apologized, he didn't accept my apology, saying I had nothing to apologize to him for.

I didn't meet his wife Elizabeth until much later, but I can see why he was with this intelligent and sweet woman.

There is a poem from Ho Chi Minh's "Prison Diary" about a signpost and how it isn't big, but it points the way and says how far to go and people will remember it. Dave was a road atlas. He was a hero, and we should remember our heroes.

Barry Romo