To canvass for the Cambridge Neighborhood Committee on Vietnam, I got the shortest haircut I have had since high school and my sister took her longest skirt out of mothballs. These were not exactly sacrifices for the cause, but they were concessions, and we half-expected some concessions in return from the voters of Cambridge. We wanted them to listen.

"No!" said the sixtyish spinster after taking a good look at us, and she slammed the door. It was discouraging to have our first canvassee react that way, but in a moment the door re-opened.

"Are you two from Cambridge?" said the spinster.

"No," said my sister.

"Then what right have you got to try to influence Cambridge voters?" asked the spinster.

"The war in Vietnam isn't just a local issue."

"Have you done any military service, young man?" said the spinster, trying a new tack.

"I'm only twenty," I said.

"Well, it might please you to know that there are many boys not even that old fighting for America. I think patriotism is the important thing. I'm sorry!" And the door closed again, for good.

The precinct captain for the CNCV had told us not to argue; argument would only irritate the hawks and drive them to the polls. Remind the doves that the referendum is on the ballot, he said, and that there is an organization out there working to end the war. Most important, encourage the undecided; don't antagonize them, but give them a little talk and the pamphlet of Boston Globe antiwar editorials. The CNCV could count on only about fifteen percent of Cambridge to vote against the war. The great hope was with the undecided.

People of Decision

The people of Ward 4, where we canvassed, were very much decided. Ward 4 starts on Trow-bridge Street, spreads around the small doves' nest of SDSers on Dana Street, and ends somewhere in the hawkish territory of Central Square. Its residents are loath to be told, or even have suggested, what they ought to think about the war. Not that they are all openly hostile to the canvassers. "I believe that we're fighting for America, so that people like you will be free to hand out leaflets," said a patient old man in a straw hat and an old suit. But he would not take any of the leaflets. Wouldn't he just look at "What Six Military Leaders Say About Vietnam," you ask, handing him the shortest of the pamphlets.

He shakes his head and hands it back, saying, "I've read enough and I've come to my conclusions. Now I'm praying, praying for you young people that you'll come to your senses and support America."

Prayer is manifest in Ward 4, especially on the Irish blocks, where it is framed and hung on the wall. "Visit this habitation, we beseech thee O Lord, and protect us from the snares of our enemy." The homes with prayers in the alcove are likely to contain suspicious inhabitants who quickly close the door with, "I'm not interested," or "I've read all about the war," or "My husband's out now, but when he gets back he'll tell me how to vote."

Occasionally you encounter "yes" votes, or people eager to read the literature. Once or twice, a family is divided and a row ensues as soon as the door is shut. "Why did you even take that stuff?" shouts the wife, and the family is in for a morning of Vietnam debate.