Jim Nance was the athlete speaker instead of Bellino, who was cited, however, for fine leadership in this crusade. First, Jim clarified his political leanings. "I am not anti-left. I am not pro-right." People were talking in low voices, worried. "I am strongly pro-American!" And that made up for it. Heavy applause. More inspiring words. Flex.

By this time, there were other divisive elements in the crowd. A guy about 20 feet to my left shouted periodically to speakers in an attempt to interject logic. He was standing next to a 25-year-old guy with a butch hair cut and a dark suit. This guy was trying to persuade the shouter of something, but every time the crowd applauded, he stopped talking and started pushing his YAF-ish sign up and down as quickly as he could with a look of rapt concentration on his fact.

And every time the younger fellow yelled a word, the cops standing in front of me turned their heads in unison toward him. It was great. All these cops shifting to the left as if in formation. Five-second surveillance, then heads straight ahead. "Look at that hair. Wouldn't knew he's a boy 'cept for that deep voice."

Al Capp was the next star. He was another to make allusions to the riot in Harvard Square, an event they really beat into the ground Sunday. "I live in Cambridge, a stone's throw from Harvard Square." The crowd got it. Suddenly he became solemn. "Over there flag-waving is a dirty word, but I would rather see our flag waved than burned!" That statement would have had the highest reading of the day if they'd had one of those applause meters like the ones they used to use on "Queen For A Day." Really an incredible response, and everyone waved his little flag at the same time.

The silent majority was alive and well in Government Center. Those in the crowd were getting immeasurable satisfaction from hearing the noise they could generate together, from seeing a large group like this all honoring America. "College radicals aren't the only ones who can get people out for rallies," one man assured me. "Most of us don't have the time to demonstrate all the time, but today, for example, a lot of us could get out, and I think it's pretty impressive," he added. "But the news tonight will probably show ten seconds of it and say we only got 5000 people to show."

I DIDN'T KNOW whether to be amused or depressed. I tend now to look at the whole thing as a big joke because I find it more enjoyable, and because I hate to contemplate sad realities. So I go to Tremont Street and then to Government Center to yuk it up for three solid hours, but I can't help thinking meanwhile that no matter how hard I laugh, these people are determining our pollicies around the world. They're putting the punch in Nixon's words. They're the reason Nixon can watch a football game and ignore 250,000 demonstrators who have come miles to walk by his house and yell at him. So I should not laugh.

And for every person in Government Center Sunday, how many more like him were sitting at home or somewhere else? More than I would have guessed. Who will change their minds? Who's going to convince them that it wouldn't be so bad to admit defeat? Who's going to convince them that Communism isn't the work of the Devil?

But then another veteran got up to the microphone, and I was laughing again. This man wanted to speak to us about those NLF flag-wavers in this country. "These people would be happier in other countries." The crowd agreed vehemently. "Some say that 'Love it or leave it' is reactionary. I see nothing wrong with it." Someone pumped a "Love It or Leave It" sign up and down for all he was worth.

A boy scout came by and presented me with a leaflet all about the clenched fist- "The Communist Salute." It was covered with pictures of Lee Harvey Oswald, Communist workers, Jesie Jackson, Fred Evans, etc., all with one thing in common: in the pictures they are raising clenched fists. The argument goes that they are all, therefore. Communists, therefore, evil: Q.E.D. There's a picture of a Panther demonstration in Oakland. Part of the caption reads: "Mao Tse Tung's 'Red Guard Manual' protrudes from girl's pocket."

ANOTHER speaker was a student from YAF. He emphasized that there were students in the crowd. "Just look around you." People looked. He had some warnings about what might be happening to those of us in college, and said that parents ought to visit and check up on what kind of education their children were getting.

Then an appeal to the younger persons there. "Get a college education. Don't get a college indoctrination by being brow-beaten by professors." I was unashamedly nauseated by that statement. Maybe when older people said similar things earlier I had listened with a detached understanding.But when I heard this kid spewing forth with advice, I was disgusted. I looked around for the guy selling 25c popsicles to get my mind off it, but I didn't see him right away, so I gave up the search.

The rally was about over. A few more special people got up to give their blessings to the movement and to give and/or receive patriot awards.

"We've done it the American way today," we were told. That was nice to know.

It was petering out towards a climax. The climax came when the man at the microphone asked us to join in the singing of "God Bless America." It was lousy not singing. I didn't hold back because of my crummy voice: I liked the song enough to compensate for vocal deficiencies. But I could not join these people in the spirit in which they sang. It would have been two different songs at once. I just looked around. I looked particularly at eyes. Old men's eyes, working men's eyes, occasional children's eyes.

Riding home in the subway, I thought about Bob Hope. I wondered if 20 years from now I'd be standing out there laughing at his jokes the same old way I used to.