OCR Text |
Show -195- University, not in the faculty lot. The car was In a one-hour zone? and as they came up to it, his friend began to curse. His car had a city parking ticket on the windshield. "Just one more thing to hold against that bastard who calls himself our president," he commented as he pulled the pink slip out from beneath the wipers and thrust it into his pocket? He was half-laughing; half-angry, as he got into the automobile and began to maneuver it out of the space. It was still too early to drive down to pick up his wife, the Professor thought. She would probably still be at the hospital. He decided to take his friend's vacated parking place and walk to the University to check his mail. As he crossed Nineteenth Avenue, there was little activity in front of the Humanities Building, just the usual cluster of students thumbing rides or waiting for the streetcar. The striking students, he supposed, were all on the quadrangle, where there was, in fact* the customary distant hum of protesting voices. Inside the building, the halls were almost empty, unusual at this time of day. The strike of the Black and Third World students was strange. There were no pickets to keep students and faculty out of the buildings, jusdb the usual demonstrations on the quad and the marching through the halls urging all students to respect the strike and boycott classes. Now the students were all outside, and even the mail room was hushed. The secretary was reading a book and did not look up when he enter- |