Let us sing in admiration and praise and love of Guy from Rye, Guy Chi a man I’ve known for three decades and more who lies at home on his death bed
enfolded by family and friends.
Guy Chichester the man who organized me at the Rochester, NH library in 1976, after showing a film, Lovejoy’s Nuclear War, inviting me to a meeting that began fourteen years of struggle with the Clamshell Alliance.
Guy whose forthright courage gave me courage.
Guy who blocked off Route 1-A with saw horses. Guy wearing a multi-colored African National Congress beret felling a Seabrook warning siren poll, toppling as the police drove up. Guy who convinced a jury that his civil disobedience was no felony, no crime because of the twenty year history of resistance to the violation of our democratic rights. Afterwards, the jury asked in the Superior Court Parking lot what they could do.
Guy who didn’t suffer fools gladly, who spoke his mind, who stood up and invited others to come along.
Guy an American tough guy, practicing non-violence and active resistance to the designs of Governor Thomson and the bully Sununu, to Public Service Company and their lackeys in places high and low, to the Judges of the NRC, to Onassis and his oil refiner plans.
Guy, co-founder of Clamshell, the U.S. Green Party, on and on.
A Long Island carpenter who moved to the NH Seacoast where the struggle found him. A man with a big house, big family, elegantly gracious Maddy at his side, a man with open arms, big insights and appetites, open doors and courage.
A man who became my long term friend, an old comrade of many actions from affinity groups occupying the Board Room of the First National Bank to Seabrook occupations with thousands of Clams.
A man who stood up. I man who would leave no one behind. A man I sat next to in court as his make believe lawyer arguing with a company judge against a bogus injunction.
A man picked from all of us as one of the 100 N.H, notables of the 20th century in the newspaper’s nod to activism.
Guy no plaster saint, a real American hero.
Guy, as a Long Island carpenter facing the repo man in the middle of the night, told me he reflexively hurled bricks from his porch at his car. Bricks that hit the car with a loud bang, bang and the repo man screamed, don’t shoot, don’t shoot and disappeared into the night.
The arc of those bricks becomes the path pursued by a champion of democracy and nonviolent resistance to illegitimate authority, a Sam Adams for our times.
A man that thousands of Clams and history will not forget.
My friend, my brother in years of dedicated action, highs and lows, triumphs and defeats, nonviolently fighting the good fight, a life well lived.
February 11th, 2009 at 8:20 pm
In Praise of Guy
Let us sing in admiration and praise and love of Guy from Rye, Guy Chi a man I’ve known for three decades and more who lies at home on his death bed
enfolded by family and friends.
Guy Chichester the man who organized me at the Rochester, NH library in 1976, after showing a film, Lovejoy’s Nuclear War, inviting me to a meeting that began fourteen years of struggle with the Clamshell Alliance.
Guy whose forthright courage gave me courage.
Guy who blocked off Route 1-A with saw horses. Guy wearing a multi-colored African National Congress beret felling a Seabrook warning siren poll, toppling as the police drove up. Guy who convinced a jury that his civil disobedience was no felony, no crime because of the twenty year history of resistance to the violation of our democratic rights. Afterwards, the jury asked in the Superior Court Parking lot what they could do.
Guy who didn’t suffer fools gladly, who spoke his mind, who stood up and invited others to come along.
Guy an American tough guy, practicing non-violence and active resistance to the designs of Governor Thomson and the bully Sununu, to Public Service Company and their lackeys in places high and low, to the Judges of the NRC, to Onassis and his oil refiner plans.
Guy, co-founder of Clamshell, the U.S. Green Party, on and on.
A Long Island carpenter who moved to the NH Seacoast where the struggle found him. A man with a big house, big family, elegantly gracious Maddy at his side, a man with open arms, big insights and appetites, open doors and courage.
A man who became my long term friend, an old comrade of many actions from affinity groups occupying the Board Room of the First National Bank to Seabrook occupations with thousands of Clams.
A man who stood up. I man who would leave no one behind. A man I sat next to in court as his make believe lawyer arguing with a company judge against a bogus injunction.
A man picked from all of us as one of the 100 N.H, notables of the 20th century in the newspaper’s nod to activism.
Guy no plaster saint, a real American hero.
Guy, as a Long Island carpenter facing the repo man in the middle of the night, told me he reflexively hurled bricks from his porch at his car. Bricks that hit the car with a loud bang, bang and the repo man screamed, don’t shoot, don’t shoot and disappeared into the night.
The arc of those bricks becomes the path pursued by a champion of democracy and nonviolent resistance to illegitimate authority, a Sam Adams for our times.
A man that thousands of Clams and history will not forget.
My friend, my brother in years of dedicated action, highs and lows, triumphs and defeats, nonviolently fighting the good fight, a life well lived.
Roy Morrison