Wicker always wondered later whether he could have averted the massacre. At the time, he believed in the system, that it would work things out, because it always had. He didn't realize how greatly the police and guards hated and feared the inmates, nor how deeply the inmates mistrusted the state. Governor Rockefeller condemned their radical action, but his condemnation rang hollow. He had effected no prison reform since he came to office in 1959, and not until Attica did the state promise change. Of the 28 reforms the state agreed to in the process of bargaining at Attica only three--the creation of an ombudsman's office, a grievance procedure, and allowing political activity--were real changes. The rest were either hedged promises conditional on legislative action--modernizing inmate education and applying the minimum wage to inmate labor, for instance--or changes like allowing religious freedom that Wicker thought should have been in effect all along. The inmates were holding out for amnesty from prosecution for actions taken during the rebellion. They knew of the Auburn and Tombs riots after which the state had filed grab-bag blanket charges against inmates, and of the case of the Harlem Four, whom New York was attempting to bring to court again after six years, two mistrials, and an overthrown verdict. Those were only three examples of an entire racial consciousness of dragnet arrests, trumped-up charges, manufactured or flimsy evidence, dubious identifications, legal technicalities, forced plea bargains, lack of decent or concerned counsel, delayed trials, vengeful prosecutions, excessive bail, stiff sentencing, and violating of civil rights and liberties. Amnesty was the only demand that really mattered.

GOVERNOR ROCKEFELLER refused to grant amnesty. He didn't think he had that constitutional power, and he was convinced it would be wrong anyway--it would "undermine the basic tenets of our society," that is, "equal application of the laws." This was Rockefeller's answer to the Attica Brothers, many of whom were in prison because of the unequal application of the laws--this, from one of the most "equal" men in a nation where all too many are more equal than others.

Tom Wicker tried to convince Rockefeller to come to Attica, so that he could see the awful chances for bloodshed. But the governor refused to come and refused to give the observers more time. Wicker says the "order of things" was more important to the governor than lives.

Governors must not deal as equals with lawbreakers; that would endanger the order of things. Amnesty must not be given to offenders; they must pay a debt in the order of things. If policemen and armies, being human, sometimes go too far, use unusual force, that is deplorable, but still they are the necessary enforcers of the order of things.

Rockefeller and the order of things have buried 39 people and two issues--prison reform and basic human decency--in the cemetery reserved for all the dirty little stories of American history, most of which share the same themes: racism and violence. New York Congressman Herman Badillo provided the epitaph for Attica's tombstone: "There's always a time to die. I don't know what the rush was."

Tom Wicker has ot disinterred the bones. No one can do that. He only promised us a "time for anger," and four and a half years after Attica, his book screams quietly--a stark gravestone rubbing to remind us of the grave and what is buried there, lest we forget to cry.