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1971, the Kennedy Center opens in Washington to huge crowds.
In Moscow, Nikita Khrushchev dies in oblivion, ignored by the new crowd in the Kremlin.
In Vancouver, a prime minister takes a young wife, and there are dire predictions that
at the White House, they're talking tough.
This woman has a premonition of danger.
When I became suddenly very upset for no apparent reason, it took me a very long time to calm
down, and the following day in Paris, I found out that my brother was killed at exactly
that same time.
He signs D.B. Cooper on the passenger list, and jumps to fame and fortune with two parachutes
and $200,000 in cash.
From this plane crash, the story of one survivor.
Philadelphia to Boston changed planes, from Boston to Hanover.
And you were flying alone?
My husband died in the plane.
The reality and the brutality of war is focused on one man, Lieutenant William Kelly, indicted
for the murders at Meli.
Muhammad Ali loses his first fight, despite this forecast.
Joe Frazier is in trouble.
I predict he will not stand a chance.
They're off.
One arrow second at the Kentucky Derby, camels on the Sahara, four more astronauts dance
on the moon, and a vision of galaxies yet ahead.
There will be those among us who will reject this golden age of mankind with all comforts
provided, but no frontiers left to explore.
And they will wish to break away from their home planet and move out to seek new experiences,
to conquer new challenges, new adversities.
And Satchmo and his trumpet are booked into the realm of Gabriel's horn.
A White House wedding, Tricia Nixon to Harvard Law student Edward Cox, the first wedding
ever in the Rose Garden.
A proud moment for a proud papa.
Ah, yes, a time to remember.
Nixon White House is, as one columnist describes it, splendiferous.
Even the three White House dogs wore corsages.
There are 1,000 guests, Billy Graham, J. Edgar Hoover, Norman Vincent Peel, Bibi Robozzo,
Bob Hope, Mamie Eisenhower, and some 55 million Americans watch it all on television.
The press is told that Edward's family dates back to the revolution.
They first met Tricia at a school dance when they were teenagers.
There's Ed now with Pat.
Dick whirls Pat around the dance floor.
They make a handsome couple.
And as Tricia leaves, the president expresses his hope that she will be able to live a life
of her own out of the merciless glare of publicity.
Amen.
Canada's highly unorthodox bachelor prime minister, 51-year-old Pierre Elliott Trudeau,
seems the dream politician.
He's a model of statesmanship with a quick wit and a parliamentary presence.
A man who plays and teases.
He's at home on the water in an Eskimo kayak.
He shoots and dances, paddles and munches and bikes, surfs and whirls and jumps and
clowns around to the amusement of his fans.
He's one of those men who does most everything well.
He has a stable of lovely ladies, but none holds his attention for long.
On a holiday in Tahiti, he meets Maggie, Maggie Sinclair, and they are wed.
Free-thinking Pierre, free-spirited Maggie, who is something of a flower child.
I think that there was a beautiful revolution happening with the flower children or the
hippie movement of getting back down to earth.
And I'd hate to if this life destroyed that in me.
It would have destroyed, I think, the best part of me.
And so they settle down to a quiet domestic life, to live happily, but not for long.
Running hard to stay in the same place, athletes have always been big users of drugs to ease
the pain of exertion and injury.
But there's a new nostrum on the playing fields today, anabolic steroids, synthetic derivatives
of the male sex hormone, pills alleged to make the weak strong and the strong stronger.
Some of the practices dismay champion shot putter Dave Steen.
Drugs plays a huge part in sport right now, more than anybody wants to believe, especially
those people who administer the sport.
And I think when they begin to realize what's happening with drugs, there's going to be
a great reaction to it, as there has been in all society against use of artificial ingredients
in the body for uses which are not terribly human.
The problem is, at least in large doses, there are side effects, viralization and menstrual
upset for women, liver and bone damage, impairment of sexual function.
One study suggests there may be benefits without dangerous side effects if steroids are used
in moderation.
But most authorities remain skeptical.
Some athletes continue the pill popping despite the dangers.
Many athletes are so worried about keeping up to world class competition.
And one of the reasons that I took the few pills that I did was this awful desperation.
I wanted to be a world class shot putter and I thought maybe the only way I could get on
those last few inches and last few feet was to take steroid drugs.
Those steroids are banned.
One Olympic committee man says that in some sports we couldn't field a team if athletes
taking steroids were disallowed.
And at the Olympic Games five years later, eight athletes are disqualified when tests
reveal they have used anabolic steroids.
This man is fed up with the many slurs against Italian Americans, books like The Godfather,
periodic FBI and Justice Department releases talking about the Mafia and the Cosa Nostra.
To the officials, members and friends of the Italian American Civil Rights League, I present
this gold and solid flag to Mr. Colombo.
Joe Colombo is himself, often identified as the head of one of New York's five mafia
families of organized crime.
His Italian American Civil Rights League, here addressed by his son, is a huge success.
In a year, it grows into a genuine vehicle of expression for thousands of Americans of
Italian descent who know nothing of the mafia or crime.
The organization helps many achieve a sense of pride in their Italian heritage.
Colombo's league, and he clearly runs it, organizes a demonstration around FBI headquarters
in New York.
But then, at the request of FBI officials, he disperses the protesters.
Thank you, God bless you, go home.
You don't want to make any distinction that someday you would think maybe it was a girl
for a boy.
So if you could hair a little short, a little neater, that's nice.
Never, never have we ever spoken violence, never do we preach violence.
Mr. Colombo, are you a boss of the Mafia?
No, I am not.
Is there a mafia?
No, there is not.
Your brother.
I don't know what the word mafia means, would you believe that?
Why is it you?
Because it isn't only me, they say there's many a bosses, and they have to make bosses
for wherever they need scapegoats.
I happen to be one of the scapegoats for them.
The Civil Rights League's second annual Unity Day is marked by tragedy.
Joe Colombo is shot by a young black who poses as a photographer at the rally.
Colombo's rise in the mob hierarchy has earned him powerful enemies, among them, Crazy Joe
Gallo.
Later, Gallo is killed, the gang war is on, the black who shot Colombo is killed, and
the black revolutionary attack team claims credit for the Colombo shooting.
Police believe it was mafia justice.
Joe Colombo lives for seven more years, but the shooting leaves him paralyzed and semi-comatose.
In what we might call the backwash of the longer hair revolution, men came to be as
fussy as that other sex about finding the right haircutter, but one man had the answer.
If you tried that good barber down at the hotel, he's wonderful.
Want to be in the mob crowd?
Must have your do done by someone named Mr. Ivan, or at a place called Unisex Barbers
Incorporated, gone is the old familiar red and white striped pole.
And as the new race of super sexy cutters proliferates, each must outdo the other, but
the most fashionable cutter of them all doesn't even cut.
He burns, singeing they call it, and the wallet burn is even more memorable than the cut.
Anti-singers claim it's only a device to make more money.
Well, you know, where there's smoke, there's fire.
Lindsey, you want to send your key down?
It was the Quakers who began modern prisons back in 1790, seeking to end the brutality
of corporal punishment.
They set up penitentiaries, places for wrongdoers to become penitent, one more reform movement
that spawned its own abuses.
In 1971, Vice President Spiro Agnew calls the U.S. prison system the most humane and
advanced in the world, but President Nixon calls them universities of crime, overcrowded,
understaffed, some of the keepers more deranged than the kept.
The worst prisons erupt from time to time, when man's real or imagined indignity to
man reaches an intolerable level.
At Attica, where 383 whites guard 2,250 black and Puerto Rican inmates, some prisoners refuse
to form a work detail.
They revolt, take over three cell blocks, set fires in six buildings.
As the riot grows, out come the hidden pipes and knives.
The inmates take 39 hostages, and the troops move in.
There's no sense in going on with it forever.
I don't want to see anybody die either, but it's got to end somewhere.
There's a circus flavor at all big news stories, and convicts know how to handle the media
too.
We're further demanding that Governor Rockefeller come down to the prison as requested and meet
the demands of the inmates.
This institution has a long history for barbaric treatment of prisoners, beatings, masings,
gassings, torture, racist comments, solitary confinement without hearings, you name it
and it's gone on here.
This is in actuality a concentration camp for black and Puerto Rican people up here.
Four days of negotiations end with the decision to move in, a decision announced outside to
the press.
The action now underway was initiated with extreme reluctance, only after all attempts
to achieve a peaceful solution failed.
An hour long pitched battle, a lot of blood is shed.
28 hostages are rescued, 11 of the hostages, guards and civilian workers are killed, shot
unintentionally by the attacking troops, 29 prisoners are killed, 3 had their throats
cut by other inmates, hundreds of prisoners are wounded.
Governor Rockefeller, who refused to come to Attica, is for many the logical scapegoat.
We not only want people to stay away from downtown shopping, but we don't want nobody
to go to work.
It's demanded that Governor Rockefeller be indicted for murder.
I heard about my husband's death on the radio before they informed me and I couldn't believe
it.
I said, if I wish to claim the body, if I wish to claim the body.
I mean, that's no way to send a telegram to anyone after what happened up there.
They could just show a little more concern.
The most violent outbreak in the history of American prisons is over, said Governor Rockefeller.
I used my best judgment.
In a few of the nation's 4,037 penal institutions, there are attempts to modify the old system,
to find ways to make it work, halfway houses, conjugal visits, work release programs.
This man in a California prison is visited by his family.
In most states, a felony conviction is grounds for divorce, but studies show that conjugal
visits like this, including a few private hours for married couples alone in an isolated
cottage, helps keep families together, husband and wife planning together for their life
after prison.
But it's a hell of a thing to visit with your family a couple of days, I'll tell you that.
Some penitentiaries introduce rap sessions for convicts to get them to help each other
with the job of rehabilitation.
And I suppress it, suppress it and keep suppressing it until I just, you know, I got a visit yesterday
from my wife and son, and had so much on my mind after the visit, I even forgot my Bible
class.
Every morning at seven, this man checks out of prison to go to work.
He returns at night, and he's behind bars over the weekend, but he's easing into the
outside world.
Others attend university classes.
Some are rewarded with furloughs to visit their homes.
This convict carries with him a locator, a device that allows the prison to reach him
at any time.
The locator is an experimental use of technology.
The prisoner wears a device which reports continuously on his whereabouts.
Prison authorities can instantly locate their man if they think he's in trouble or merely
for a spot check.
The man is urged to call in to report any difficulty.
Ever since the day's Russian exiles plotted against the czars, London has been a haven
for revolutionaries of all kinds.
Today there is another plot being hatched, a commercial plot to sell belts made out of
bullets to the working, fashion-hungry masses from Hoboken to Hong Kong.
This one fashion commune alone claims it has made and sold about 4,500 bullet belts in
three months.
The bullet belts retail in London for up to $24.
The revolution is tripping from strength to strength.
Some analysts think the bullet belt exploded out of the tumult that was the Paris student
revolt of 1968.
Another group claims the inspiration was the Arab girl hijacker Leila Khaled.
Others say Che Guevara.
Nobody but nobody mentions John Wayne.
So gun belts saunter on, as one enthusiast says, gives you some place to hang your thumbs.
In labs around the world, scientists are unraveling the secrets of DNA, the blueprint substance
in each man's 60 trillion cells, geneticist Dr. David Suzuki.
How is it that a muscle cell differs in its appearance and function from a bone cell or
a nerve cell, if they all have the same blueprint, why are they different?
And what it appears to be now is that the way they differentiate into these various
cell types is by reading the blueprint at different places.
And we'd like to know what are the signals that tell a cell, you read the blueprint on
how to make muscle, don't read anything else, and then it becomes a muscle cell.
Research with fruit flies, a less complex life form, may hold some answers.
But understanding of how genetic information is passed between generations came from the
work of a 19th century scientist, an Austrian monk named Gregor Mendel.
What we have yet to learn is how to alter this process in man, understanding how the
genes in a single cell divide could answer questions about cancer, mental retardation,
and congenital defects.
Scientists believe we may someday design our offspring, boy or girl, blonde or brunette,
Einstein or athlete.
But most scientists urge great caution in tampering with man's genetic code.
The implications of this kind of work for man are enormous, because if we can understand
the signals that generate or allow a cell to read the right chapters, then it means
that, for example, if we cut off our hand or our fingers, if we can treat the region
of the cut with the proper chemicals and get the right signals read, then we should be
able to regrow a new hand or a new finger in the same way that many lizards can regrow
a new tail if you break it off.
The wheel of genetic fortune spins, and where it will stop, nobody knows.
It's the opening of the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C., a white marble memorial
to a murdered president.
It's something of a Klan affair for the most famous political family of this century, the
Kennedys and their friends, Ethel, comedian Alan King, Gregory Peck, Avril Harriman, accompanied
by Pat Lofford, and greeted by Sarge Shriver.
All of them gathered to hear Leonard Bernstein conduct his mass.
He has hugs for the choir boys and girls.
And there's Rose Kennedy, the matriarch of the family, coming over to thank Bernstein.
Rose Kennedy had four sons.
One died in World War II, two were assassinated.
Only Teddy is left to wear the Kennedy mantle, a burden he inherited the day of his eulogy
for Brother Bobby.
My brother need not be idealized, or enlarged from death beyond what he was in life, to be
remembered simply as a good and decent man who saw wrong and tried to right it, saw suffering
and tried to heal it, saw war and tried to stop it.
Those of us who loved him, and who take him to his rest today, pray that what he was to
us, and what he wished for others, will someday come to pass for all the world.
As he said many times, in many parts of this nation, for those he touched and who sought
to touch him, some men see things as they are and say why.
I dream things that never were and say why not.
Given its long-standing feud with California over the quality of oranges, no one is surprised
when Florida comes up with Disney World, 90 times bigger than Disneyland, where it all
began.
Four years ago, an old-timer described the Florida swamp as the sorriest piece of land
God ever put together.
He got the land cheap, $185 an acre.
It's twice the size of Manhattan, but then for Manhattan, the Dutch paid only $24.
For America's 37th president, his third year in office goes fairly smoothly, all things
considered.
The public opinion polls are encouraging, he takes steps to deal with inflation, he announces
his plan to visit China next year.
You've got to do what you can to, more important than anything else now, is to get the facts
out with regard to what we have done, that we have the worst for political settlement,
what we have done for the refugees and so forth and so on.
If you see that some here in the Senate or the House, for whatever reason, get out and
misrepresent our opinions, I want you to hit it frontally, strongly and toughly, is that
clear?
I mean, don't just take the gloves off and crack it, because you know exactly what we've
done, okay?
Fine.
All right.
Okay.
His secretary for 24 years, Rosemary Woods, still takes his dictation by shorthand, no
recording devices for her.
Come to the golf tournament in Florida on February 21, I thought I would be able to
work it into my schedule.
That is the date I arrived in Peking, and even if we had an SST, I would be unable to
be in both places at the same time.
I wish you would extend my best wishes to all the big money winners at the tournament
and also to the losers.
There were no people with the troops.
That's absolutely correct.
No Americans with any of the troops, any place.
I mean, the attachés are at the embassy, so basically what is happening, the attachés
are, the Indian attaché will reflect the Indian reports, and the Pakistan attaché will
reflect the Pakistan reports.
But we have a variety of independent sources.
Yeah, I know.
I know.
None of them are liable.
None of them.
Totally reliable.
That's right.
Okay.
In mid-1971, that five-sided building in Washington gives its name to The Case of the Pentagon
Papers, a 47-volume study of slipping and sliding through the marshes of Southeast Asia.
The government tries to stop publication of the study, leaked by Dr. Daniel Ellsberg to
The New York Times.
Because I felt that the concealment of this information for 25 years has now led to the
death of 50,000 Americans and several hundred thousand Vietnamese in the last few years,
a couple of million over two years, over the 20 years of this involvement.
And I think that the odds have been weighted in favor of secrecy judgments at this point
of whether the American public is to be trusted to make these decisions versus the U.S. executive
branch can now be judged by you and by citizens and by the courts and by Congress in the light
of where secrecy has led us over the last 25 years.
Times publisher A.O.
Punch Solzberger.
This was not a breach of the national security.
We gave away no national secrets.
We didn't jeopardize any American soldiers or Marines overseas.
And The Times lawyer.
What about the question of security?
I'm not going to comment on that.
Are you saying in effect that the government is seeking for reasons other than national
security to halt this publication?
No, I'm not saying that.
I think the government believes that perhaps the further publication in their judgment
may not be in the interest of national security.
And The Times will not feel that way.
We do not feel that way.
We would have not published in the first instance.
How do we felt that way?
There are tons of documents even from World War II, which have been over 25 years now
that are still classified secret.
And I think as I said earlier in this meeting that it's a wonderful way, if you got egg
on your face, to prevent anybody from knowing about it, stamp its secret and put it away.
The Times wins, Ellsberg is vindicated.
In Vietnam, as in every struggle since man first tried to civilize warfare at the Geneva
Conference of 1864, the dehumanizing force of battle leads to murder, rape, and plunder.
The grunts who fight an unpopular war in Vietnam are no better and maybe no worse than all
the armies that have gone before.
But the man who gets pinned for murder is platoon leader Lieutenant William Rusty Calley
Jr., the man in charge of the infantry unit at My Lai, a man some say is only a scapegoat.
I think he's culpable of everything I've read about it, but I do think that certainly there
was involvement farther up the line, you know, Captain Medina and...
World War II.
And we got our orders from up above, we didn't do anything, we weren't told to do.
You think higher officers are responsible then?
Certainly.
And they just don't want to take the blame.
Calley's lawyer, F. Lee Bailey.
I don't know and I don't think the judge does at this point, all we can do is proffer it.
I will hope that he rules that way for us.
The government's accusation depends on a finding that Medina knew what Calley was doing, is
what it boils down to, and encouraged him to do it, or at least remain silent for the
purpose of having Calley kill more people.
The statement, according to Captain Hicks, is that Medina didn't know it, Calley knew
he didn't know it.
When he found out about it, he was surprised after the event.
That negates the entire government theory, and it corroborates testimony Medina will
give about his conversations with Calley.
What about the testimony of Captain Catoosh?
Well, we said at the outset of this trial, we intended to show that Medina acted on what
he thought was reasonable grounds to frighten a man.
It's a nice legal question as to whether you can frighten a man by throwing a round over
his head, or whether it's better to point the gun at him without pulling the trigger.
I expect we'll be arguing that for a while.
Calley is found guilty, sentenced to life at hard labor.
Like we would go into a village, and all of a sudden you get fire from the village and
you start firing back, you're not going to be able to distinguish between the innocent
people and the ones who are firing at you, unless you see the weapons.
But if you're just pouring fire into a village, and whoever gets in the way gets in the way,
you can't help it.
You can't help it.
That's all it's, that's it.
Calley is freed after serving one-third of his 10-year sentence, which has been reduced
twice.
And in Vietnam, the war and the pain and the suffering of the peasants goes on.
There are two magnificent achievements for American spacemen in 1971, Apollo 14 and 15.
Four more men walk on the moon, bringing the total to eight.
Apollo 14 gets off to a shaky start, liftoff of the Saturn V rocket, delayed by storm clouds
and rain.
Later, there is docking difficulty between the command ship and the lunar module, a faulty
computer switch.
But in the end, Alan Shepard, Edgar Mitchell, and Stuart Russo make it all work.
Shepard, now 47, was America's first man in space, and it is he who smuggles along two
golf balls and a makeshift club so he can practice in the sand traps of the moon.
On this flight, TV viewers get the first sustained look in living color of Earthmen on the moon,
some 238,000 miles away.
But beyond the moon are a billion galaxies, and someday we'll explore them, says the chief
of the Goddard Space Institute, Dr. Robert Jastrow.
It is inconceivable that we should remain forever on this planet when you reflect that
there have been millions of years in the past history of man, and that six billion years
lie ahead of us in the lifetime of this solar system.
The history of life on our planet has been marked by the fact that in every species and
every population, a small, questing, probing fringe of individuals has always explored
the limits of their environment.
And among those, the ones most favored by fitness for survival in the new environment
have departed and established a niche, a new niche in it.
What will happen in the next million years?
What will be the evolution of the developments that we have seen in the last 300 years of
science and the last 10 years of the space age?
You simply cannot be convinced that we will not move out into the solar system and in
some way beyond the solar system.
But who will make the move?
I'd love to if I had the opportunity.
I will go there if the price of tickets is not too much.
My grandson can make it, but me at 72 years of age, I don't think I can get it.
40 years from now, we'll do it.
About 400 BC, Epicurean philosopher Metrodorus said, to consider the Earth the only populated
world in infinite space is as absurd as to assert that in an entire field sown with millet,
only one grain will grow.
On November 24, 1971, Northwest Airlines Flight 305 takes off from Portland, Oregon.
As a newly boarded passenger, nondescript, dark, about 40, his ticket says DB Cooper.
The note he hands the stewardess says he wants $200,000 in cash waiting in Seattle, along
with two parachutes.
His briefcase contains what looks to the stewardess like a bomb.
His demands are met.
He releases the passengers and some of the crew.
The plane, now off to Mexico, has a scheduled fuel stop in Reno.
But somewhere in flight, the rear exit is opened.
The hijacker has flown the coupe.
It's the only unsolved case of air piracy on record.
In 1971, there are 203 airline fatalities, 57 more than the previous year.
There are 32 dead in this crash near Hanover, New Hampshire.
Investigators for the National Transportation Safety Board find 10 survivors as they move
in to try to unravel the reason for the crash.
Investigator Edward Patton.
The airplane hit Moose Mountain just under 2,300 feet.
So he was above the ceiling and obviously in the fog and overcast when he hit.
But he was several hundred feet under the altitude he should have been crossing Moose
Mountain.
This will give us his altitude at impact, also his airspeed, and if he was flying like
he should have been, according to the approach procedures up here in New Hampshire.
Later, we hear the story of one survivor, Mrs. Marietta Nettle.
The air hostess freed herself, put the flames out on my hair, rushed to the emergency exit
and tried to force it open.
My left foot was jammed, I freed it, then I frantically rushed after the air hostess.
A man helped to open her the emergency exit and thank God we were free.
And we stepped outside and I suddenly noticed we were at great height and before I could
think how to get down from the tail, I just slipped and fell through an enormous height.
And I think I fell through a pine tree which held, each branch held my fall so luckily
after a long time I landed very softly.
We were flying from Philadelphia to Boston, changed planes from Boston to Hanover.
Were you traveling alone?
My husband died in the plane.
I'm just going to see him.
Flying is safer than driving your car, but it could still be a lot safer.
In every time, in every culture, there are reports of bizarre dreams, flashes, mental
happenings, in which people sense something is about to happen, sometimes half a world
away.
Researchers trying to unravel this mystery label it extrasensory perception.
Dr. Montague Ullman, in my opinion, based on my own research and my familiarity with
the research of others, ESP is an established scientific fact.
I had been in Grenoble in the Alps having lunch when I became suddenly very upset for
no apparent reason.
It took me a very long time to calm down and the following day in Paris I found out that
my brother was killed at exactly that same time, 3,000 miles away.
One night in the Maimonides dream lab, a sleeping subject awoke to report a dream she thought
was precognitive, a dream about the future.
In her dream, she says she saw a picture of a collapsed building on the front page of
a newspaper.
Two weeks later, an old hotel collapsed and the newspaper printed a photograph of the
wreckage on its front page.
She claimed it was identical to the photo in her dream.
Coincidence?
Precognition?
Who can say?
Space and time seem to be transcended by telepathic effects on the one hand and precognitive effects
on the other where aspects of the future seem to be captured in situations where that future
hasn't yet occurred.
It was Freud who once told a skeptic he should think more kindly of thought transference
and telepathy.
Nothing in 1971 seems so certain and inevitable as war between India and Pakistan.
The excuse is Pakistan's civil war, but the real reason is as old as history, hatred between
Hindus and Muslims.
No matter how many people are living in that area, they just kill them.
Just places, they surround the area with gasoline and set it on fire and any people that come
out, they shoot them.
In a subcontinent as complex as this one, there is no simple cause for anything.
But one factor which brought about the war is the traditional antagonism between the
Bengalis who live in East Pakistan and the Punjabis who live in the West.
Another factor is that the peasants in the Eastern part feel exploited by the power and
industrial wealth of the Western part and so a civil war begins.
We do not give them a pitch battle because in that they have the advantage.
We melt away.
We sit on their elapses and ambush their columns.
We raid their outposts.
We try and isolate them and destroy them in detail.
The ragtag Liberation Army of the East numbers about 25,000, poorly organized and equipped
facing a force of twice as many West Pakistanis.
They are made up of a plinth of troops but most of them are unarmed.
Like so many peasant armies through history, they make up in spirit what they lack in equipment.
Plainly tired of paying West Pakistan's bills, they struggle fiercely to overcome the oppression
of the industrial West.
Their leader, Sheikh Mujibar Rahman, a fiery, charismatic man, inspires them to continue
the fight.
President Khan, fearing the loss of his rich province, intensifies his efforts.
He and his generals work ruthlessly and thoroughly and by mid-April their campaign is complete.
Air and ground attacks leave the cities and villages of East Pakistan devastated.
They were burning their houses, carrying on looting and arson and they were taking the
young girls and they were raping the women.
The ancient Banyan trees of the East now shade the waste of war, no longer the thriving rice
paddies.
Casualties, many of them civilians, anywhere from 200,000 to a million dead.
In the villages, bodies are dumped into community water wells and for a time it looks as if
the West Pakistanis have won.
Seven to ten million refugees desert East Pakistan to escape the massacre.
India accepts this unending flood of the destitute.
But as Prime Minister Indira Gandhi tells her people, India's already teetering economy
cannot tolerate anymore.
As India tries to feed the masses, foreign aid pours in.
But simultaneously the monsoons come with floods and cholera epidemics to further plague
the starving refugees.
Now India joins the battle and wipes out the Pakistani Air Force in two days.
India supports East Pakistan independence and so East Pakistan becomes Bangladesh.
A new nation is born.
America is known to be a symbol of democracy.
It has produced men like Lincoln and Jefferson.
Today we are fighting for our democracy.
The American administration should be with the people.
We want our independence.
We want an independent Bangladesh.
Louis Armstrong didn't invent jazz, but you don't have to invent a country to become its
king and that's how it was with the man called Satchomouth, later and lovingly Satchmo.
When Satchmo sings, they say it sounds like a piece of sandpaper calling to its mate.
But when he blows on that trumpet, we know how he earned his title, the King of Jazz.
His first public vocalizing was in his native New Orleans, singing in the streets for pennies.
The horn came at 13 when he matriculated for a time at what was called the Colored Waif's
Home for Boys.
He played in New Orleans marching bands, a few of the city's many dives and on the Mississippi
River boats.
But his climb to international fame and fortune began with a long trip to Chicago in the early
1920s.
Born on the 4th of July in 1900, the end comes 71 years and two days later.
The king is dead, but his music lives on.