I didn't lose a business or serve as a guardsman. What I lost was innocence. At 12 or 13, I traveled by bus to the lower eastside (Mack). We lived on the far eastside (across Hamtramck) which was pretty much untouched. My mother and I were going to check on a friend who lived in the stricken area. The bus couldn't go all the way because of blockades. The streets were blocked off by white guardsmen carrying large guns and tanks were rolling down the street. So, we had to walk a long way pass smoldering buildings and angry policemen. It was like a scene out of a World War II movie. I remember my mother clutching my hand very tightly, her only way of protecting me.
What I remember is fear, not of the "rioters" but fear of the policemen who were angry, red-faced, and loudly aggressive. And fear of the guardsmen who all seemed young like teenagers, confused and carrying big guns as that sat atop the huge tanks. My mother and I didn't stay long. After she made sure her friend was OK, we made our way back home and stayed there watching the horror of people being shot and herded into police stations. I'd been taught that policemen and our gov't were there to help. Their response to 1967 rebellion stripped me of that childish belief.
