[Peace-discuss] Fwd: Beware of what others see you reading

[Al Kagan]

>Date: Sun, 20 Jul 2003 22:43:09 -0400
>To: SRRT Action Council <srrtac-l at ala.org>
>From: Mark Rosenzweig <iskra at earthlink.net>
>Subject: [SRRTAC-L:11387] Fwd: Beware of what others see you reading
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>
>Here's a very sobering if amusingly recounted tale of the times...
>Mark Rosenzweig
>
>>>
>>>Subject: Beware of what others see you reading
>>>
>>>
>>>These are interesting times, indeed !! In the days of public governmental
>>>censorship we used to bring back Henry Miller writings from Paris, we
>>>read them by flashlight under the sheets -- and we had plain brown
>>>wrappers for  carrying them around in public.
>>>
>>>Here's a fella who reads an e-mail print out called  "Weapons Of Mass
>>>Stupidity  ...... " and someone calls the FBI on him !!
>>>==========
>>>
>>>http://atlanta.creativeloafing.com/2003-07-17/rant.html
>>>
>>>READING WHILE BEARDED: Marc Schultz shows off a souvenir from his
>>>encounter with two FBI agents.
>>>(Jim Stawniak)
>>>
>>>Careful: The FB-eye may be watching --  Reading the wrong thing in public
>>>can get you in trouble
>>>BY MARC SCHULTZ
>>>   Marc Schultz is a freelance writer in Atlanta. The Weekly Planet happens
>>>to be Creative Loafing's sister paper in Tampa. For a copy of the column
>>>that got Schultz in hot water, go to
>>>http://charlotte.creativeloafing.com/newsstand/2003-06-04/news_cover.html
>>>" Weapons Of Mass Stupidity --Fox News hits a new lowest common
>>>denominator"
>>>
>>>============
>>>
>>>"The FBI is here,"Mom tells me over the phone. Immediately I can see my
>>>mom with her back to a couple of Matrix-like figures in black suits and
>>>opaque sunglasses, her hand covering the mouthpiece like Grace Kelly in
>>>Dial M for Murder. This must be a joke, I think. But it's not, because Mom
>>>isn't that funny.
>>>
>>>"The who?" I say.
>>>
>>>"Two FBI agents. They say you're not in trouble, they just want to talk.
>>>They want to come to the store."
>>>
>>>I work in a small, independent bookstore, and since it's a slow Tuesday
>>>afternoon, I figure, "Sure." Someone I know must have gotten some
>>>government work, I think; hadn't my consultant friend spoken recently of
>>>getting rolled onto some government job? Background check, I think,
>>>interviewing acquaintances ... No big deal, right? Then, of course, I make
>>>a big deal about it in front of my co-workers.
>>>
>>>"That was my mom," I tell them. "The FBI's coming for me." They laugh;
>>>it's a good joke, especially when the FBI actually shows up. They are not
>>>the bogeymen I had been expecting. They're dressed casually, they speak
>>>familiarly, but they are big. The one in front stands close to 7 feet, and
>>>you can tell his partner is built like a bulldog under his baggy shirt and
>>>shorts.
>>>
>>>"You Marc Schultz?" asks the tall one. He shows me his badge, introduces
>>>himself as Special Agent Clay Trippi. After assuring me that I'm not in
>>>trouble, he asks if there is someplace we can sit down and talk. We head
>>>back to Reference, where a table and chairs are set up. We sit down, and
>>>I'm again informed that I am not in trouble.
>>>
>>>Then, Agent Trippi asks, "Do you drive a black Nissan Altima?" And I
>>>realize this meeting is not about a friend. Despite their reassurances,
>>>and despite the fact that I haven't committed any federal offenses (that I
>>>know of), I'm starting to feel a bit like I'm in trouble.
>>>
>>>They ask me if I was driving my car on Saturday, and I say, reasonably
>>>sure, that I was. They ask me where I went, and I struggle for a moment to
>>>remember Saturday. I make a lame joke about how the days run together when
>>>you're underemployed. They smile politely. Was I at work on Saturday? I
>>>think so.
>>>
>>>"Were you at the Caribou Coffee on Powers Ferry?" asks Agent Trippi.
>>>That's where I get my coffee before work, and so I tell him yes, probably,
>>>just before remembering Saturday: Harry Potter day, opening early, in at
>>>8:30.
>>>
>>>So I would have been at Caribou Coffee that Saturday, getting my small
>>>coffee, room for cream. This information seems to please the agents.
>>>
>>>"Did you notice anything unusual, anyone worth commenting on?" OK, I
>>>think. It's the unusual guy they want, not me. I think hard, wondering if
>>>it was Saturday I saw the guy in the really cool reclining wheelchair, the
>>>guy who struck me as a potential James Bondian supervillain, but no: That
>>>was Monday.
>>>
>>>Then they ask if I carried anything into the shop -- and we're back to me.
>>>
>>>My mind races. I think: a bomb? A knife? A balloon filled with narcotics?
>>>But no. I don't own any of those things. "Sunglasses," I say. "Maybe my
>>>cell phone?"
>>>
>>>Not the right answer. I'm nervous now, wondering how I must look: average,
>>>mid-20s, unassuming retail employee. What could I have possibly been
>>>carrying?
>>>
>>>Trippi's partner speaks up: "Any reading material? Papers?" I don't think
>>>so. Then Trippi decides to level with me: "I'll tell you what, Marc.
>>>Someone in the shop that day saw you reading something, and thought it
>>>looked suspicious enough to call us about. So that's why we're here, just
>>>checking it out. Like I said, there's no problem. We'd just like to get to
>>>the bottom of this. Now if we can't, then you may have a problem. And you
>>>don't want that."
>>>
>>>You don't want that? Have I just been threatened by the FBI? Confusion and
>>>a light dusting of panic conspire to keep me speechless. Was I reading
>>>something that morning? Something that would constitute a problem?
>>>
>>>The partner speaks up again: "Maybe a printout of some kind?"
>>>
>>>Then it occurs to me: I was reading. It was an article my dad had printed
>>>off the Web. I remember carrying it into Caribou with me, reading it in
>>>line, and then while stirring cream into my coffee. I remember bringing it
>>>with me to the store, finishing it before we opened. I can't remember what
>>>the article was about, but I'm sure it was some kind of left-wing
>>>editorial, the kind that never fails to incite me to anger and despair
>>>over the state of the country.
>>>
>>>I tell them all this, but they want specifics: the title of the article,
>>>the author, some kind of synopsis, but I can't help them -- I read so much
>>>of this stuff.
>>>
>>>"Do you still have the article?" Probably not, but I suggest we check
>>>behind the counter. When that doesn't pan out, I have the bright idea to
>>>call my dad at work, see if he can remember. Of course, he can't put
>>>together a coherent sentence after I tell him the FBI are at the store,
>>>questioning me.
>>>
>>>"The FBI?" he keeps asking. Eventually I get him off the phone, and
>>>suggest it may be in my car. They follow me out to the parking lot, where
>>>Trippi asks me if there's anything in the car he should know about.
>>>
>>>"Weapons, drugs? It's not a problem if you do, but if you don't tell me
>>>and then I find something, that's going to be a problem." I assure him
>>>there's nothing in my car, coming very close to quoting Rudy Ray Moore in
>>>Dolemite: "There's nothin' in my trunk, man."
>>>
>>>The excitement of the questioning -- the interrogation -- has made me just
>>>a little bit giddy. I almost laugh out loud when they ask me to pop my
>>>trunk.
>>>
>>>There's nothing in my car, of course. I keep looking anyway, while telling
>>>them it was probably some kind of
>>>what-did-they-know-and-when-did-they-know-it article about the buildup to
>>>Gulf War II. Trippi nods, unsatisfied. I turn up some papers from the
>>>University of Georgia, where I'm about to begin as a grad student. He asks
>>>me what I'm going to study.
>>>
>>>"Journalism," I say. As I duck back into the car, I hear Agent Trippi
>>>informing his partner, "He's going to UGA for journalism" in a way that
>>>makes me wonder whether that counts against me.
>>>
>>>Back in the store, Trippi gives me his card and tells me to call him if I
>>>remember anything. After he's gone, I call my dad back to see if he has
>>>calmed down, maybe come up with a name. We retrace some steps together,
>>>figure out the article was Hal Crowther's "Weapons of Mass Stupidity" from
>>>the Weekly Planet, a free independent out of Tampa. It comes back to me
>>>then, this scathing screed focusing on the way corporate interests have
>>>poisoned the country's media, focusing mostly on Fox News and Rupert
>>>Murdoch -- really infuriating, deadly accurate stuff about American
>>>journalism post-9-11. So I call the number on the card, leave a message
>>>with the name, author and origin of the column, and ask him to call me if
>>>he has any more questions.
>>>
>>>To tell the truth, I'm kind of anxious to hear back from the FBI, if only
>>>for the chance to ask why anyone would find media criticism suspicious, or
>>>if maybe the sight of a dark, bearded man reading in public is itself
>>>enough to strike fear in the heart of a patriotic citizen.
>>>
>>>My co-worker, Craig, says that we should probably be thankful the FBI
>>>takes these things seriously; I say it seems like a dark day when an
>>>American citizen regards reading as a threat, and downright pitch-black
>>>when the federal government agrees.
>>>
>>>Special Agent Trippi didn't return calls from CL. But Special Agent Joe
>>>Paris, Atlanta field office spokesman, stressed that specific FBI
>>>investigations are confidential. He wouldn't confirm or deny the Schultz
>>>interview.
>>>
>>>"In this post-911 era, it is the absolute responsibility of the FBI to
>>>follow through on any tips of potential terrorist activity," Paris says.
>>>"Are people going to take exception and be inconvenienced by this at
>>>times? Oh, yeah. ... A certain amount of convenience is going to be offset
>>>by an increase in security."


-- 


Al Kagan
African Studies Bibliographer and Professor of Library Administration
Africana Unit, Room 328
University of Illinois Library
1408 W. Gregory Drive
Urbana, IL 61801, USA

tel. 217-333-6519
fax. 217-333-2214
e-mail. akagan at uiuc.edu