Marsha McGregor, Oral History

Recorded: May 4, 2000
Interviewed by Deborah Frazier
Transcribed by Maggie Castellani

[Interviewer]: Hello. Today is May 4th, 2000. I'm Deborah Frazier and I'll be helping you with your oral history today. Tell me about who you are and where you were on May 4th, 1970.

[Marsha McGregor]: My name is Marsha McGregor. On May 4th, 1970, I was at home with my mother, I was twelve years old, and I was waiting to hear about the whereabouts of my two sisters and my brother who were on campus that day. Their future spouses were also on campus that day. I had spent many happy hours up on the campus as a young person. Travelling up here to be with my sisters for "Li'l Sibs" weekends. And I remember walking fearlessly at night around campus during the warm spring weather with them. And enjoying all kinds of, sort of innocent fun with them and thinking how wonderfully grown up it felt to be on campus and what a wonderful thing it was going to be able, I was going to be able to do when I was old enough to come here. And I don't remember much of the day of the shootings except my mother's back looking out the living room window. And I really didn't understand what was going on. But I could tell from the line of her back and the tension in her neck that there was something very wrong. And I remember a little bit about soldiers and I had no concept of what that could possibly be because it was so in opposition to what my image of the college campus was like. And all the phone lines were down. There was no way that we could get through to the campus to find out where my two sisters and brother might be. And it was a very long and tiring day. And the other primary memory that I have on, of that day is my sister's boyfriend coming to the house letting us know that everybody was O.K. And I was watching from the archway of the family room as he spoke to my mother and he was trying to describe to her what had happened. And he got down on one knee and he pantomimed a soldier pointing a gun and he said, "And they just turned around and shot at them." And I think at that moment, my whole sense of innocence kind of went out the window in terms of what life on a college campus could be like.

My sister told me later that she was in her dorm at the time they heard shots firing. I believe it was Terrace, Terrace Hall. And they were going to go visit a girl in the hospital who had actually been bayonetted the night before by a Guardsman. And suddenly chaos reigned and girls were screaming in the halls and saying, "They've shot people! They've shot people!" And it was just complete chaos from there on in. They had a hard time getting out, off the campus. And they said the atmosphere was just curiously surreal. I remember she said there were tanks and guns and soldiers on the street and the streets were clogged with cars. And yet for people that really didn't understand what had happened yet, there was like a festive air on the streets of the town almost because it was a beautiful day and there were so many people gathered. She said it was very surreal.

My other sister was working across the street. She was teaching at the University School and she had come across on her lunch hour to see what was going on. And she said it was just the most incredible thing to see lines of soldiers with guns drawn on her campus.

My brother ... I'm not sure exactly where he was at the moment of the shooting, but he lived in College Towers. And I think to escape sort of the chaos and the horror of it all and not knowing what to do with all the feelings that maybe he had about it, he took off to Myrtle Beach with a carful of guys. And his apartment was subsequently looted. And all of his, he was very attached to his music collection, and all of his albums were stolen. And I remember him being very upset about that.

I was just happy that they were all alive. And I remember being confused about the whole thing because I went to a Catholic school and the nun who taught me eighth grade was a huge supporter and fan of Lieutenant William Calley. And one of our assignments in class one day was to write a letter of support to William Calley who was on ... the trial, what's that called when you're on trial when you're in the Army ... the court marshal. We had no idea, you know, at the tender age of fourteen what in the world we were doing. But she would get up there and rail about how the radicals were ruining the country and this poor man had been vilified for doing his job. And he was a good and loyal soldier and we were to write to him and support him. So we all did. Didn't know what in the world we were talking about. Another good example of an abuse of power, I think, of that time. And on the other hand, there were my sisters and brother who tried to graduate in the wake of all this and go on job interviews. And one of them was an honors student and could barely get interviews because she always got asked about what she felt about the situation. And there was just this incredible contrast in my life of this youthful innocence and pajama parties and "Li'l Sibs" weekends and then, and then you know, these bullet holes in, the bullet hole in the sculpture that I visited the next year with her.

I ended up going to Kent myself. I graduated in '82, started there in '75. I have always attended the vigils almost every year since then. I live in the area. And I have often tried to seek out what meaning that may have held for me. It was hard for me to understand what to take away from the tragedy, what good it might have accomplished and what comfort the survivors could take. And it took me years and years to be able to reach any kind of conclusion about that. But I felt drawn to come and honor the dead and know that it could have been my siblings. In the '70's when I was attending school, people didn't want to talk about Kent State. The sororities and fraternities were kind of on the rise. And the Tent City people were kind of labelled as freaks. And the administration was very big on trying to brush everything under the table. It was still very shameful for them. And I applaud the current administration for taking the stand they do today -- on bringing it out as a focal point. I've brought my children, well, I've brought one child, to the site. But he was too young to explain. He was only two at the time. And I'll bring him back when the time is right.

But last night when I came to the vigil and I stood next to, I stood next to, I stood next to the site where Jeffrey Miller's body ... as I stood next to the marker where Jeffrey Miller's body had laid, at midnight last night, and his parents stood there inside that marker, they were so dignified. And I asked myself what I took away from the vigil last night because every year I take away something different. And I guess on this thirty-year anniversary, I struck me that they were getting old and their son will be always nineteen, or however old he was. And then I guess I was there last night to honor not only the dead but the survivors especially who have managed over the years to put one foot in front of the other, one day at a time and keep going -- in spite of their grief, in spite of the idiocy of some of the public opinion, in spite of the trials, in spite of years of denial from the public and the University, of their own suffering. I admire them so much that they continue to live and keep going and came back, came back this weekend. And I guess that's what I took away most from my being here this year. And I will continue to come back every year because it is a key piece of world history and it needs to be kept alive. Thank you.

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