Sit-in method may have detracted from message

I think Ryan Olson has confused the term “sit-in” with “love-in.”

True, a 23-year-old pup can’t be expected to understand the ‘60s concepts that geezers like me grew up with.

But back in my day, political protesters who sat down in public buildings and then refused to leave had to be handcuffed and carried out by cops.

They didn’t get handshakes. Or thoughtful parting gifts, either.

Let me explain.

On Tuesday I joined some of my fellow media mongrels in the Lincoln Heights Shopping Center parking lot. We came to watch Olson and other well-intentioned youths protest the military’s “no gays allowed” policy at an Army recruiting station.

I’m down with that. People gay or straight should have an equal opportunity to visit Iraq and hopefully not get blown to smithereens.

And let’s not kid ourselves. There’s already an untold army of gay patriots serving our country. These people are just forced into silence because of all that “don’t ask, don’t tell” malarkey.

To protest this hypocrisy, Olson and Dana Corral, both GU students, walked into the Army office. They made their sexual orientation known and said they wanted to enlist.

Sgt. Anthony Clark told the pair thanks but no thanks.

Orders, even the stupid ones, must be followed.

Olson is a poised and well-spoken young man. He essentially informed Sgt. Clark that they weren’t leaving until the government came to its senses.

He asked where they might conduct their sit-in. Sgt. Clark directed them to a spot in the middle of the room that was out of the main flow of some movers who were bringing in and setting up new office furniture.

Sgt. Clark is an affable and thoughtful fellow. The last thing he needs on his record is a gay rights protester being clobbered by a wayward filing cabinet.

I did think it odd that 19-year-old Nick LaPalm was part of the sit-in. I learned during my pre-protest parking lot press briefing that LaPalm was actually straight.

Wait a minute! There was no Army regulation that prevented Nick from signing up and being Baghdad bound.

Apparently Sgt. Clark didn’t ask, or Nick didn’t tell.

Sgt. Clark requested non-sitters (reporters, supportive GU students) step outside. The movers weren’t so lucky.

I obliged, although for a split second I thought about hunkering down and making my stand.

Earlier in the day I had discovered that the Army didn’t want me, either. The government has this silly “thing” about 55-year-old bald dudes not having the right stuff.

Hey, I get enough of that from my editor.

Ba-doom ching!

Sgt. Clark made a call to the Spokane Police Department. Being familiar with the SPD’s non-emergency response crawl, I figured I had plenty of time to go eat lunch.

Sure enough. I was just finishing a tasty half-pound mushroom and Swiss burger with fries and a diet soda at Hogan’s before the first prowl car rolled into the lot.

I made it back in time to see the Gonzaga Three stand up, make some chummy farewells and exit the recruiting station.

No handcuffs. No carry-out.

There was, alas, a bit of cheesy theater. As cameras rolled, Olson and LaPalm walked out of the recruiting station with heads bent and hands behind their backs as if they were cuffed.

What is this, the “In Cold Blood” execution scene?

When I called Olson on it, he told me that this was what Soulforce, the national organization behind the sit-in, wanted. For shame.

In the parking area, the three were cited for trespass. Olson said the police officers were so nice that he’d like to go to coffee with them. Sgt. Clark was one terrific host, too. Olson said that, before the cops arrived, the good sergeant gave his guests complimentary U.S. Army pens.

Maybe I’m protesting too much. But the only thing missing at this sit-in was a caterer.