In November, 1890, even more serious trouble arose following another
series of arrests for post-office "rushing." During the evening sounds
of rifle shots were heard, and the students, already excited, scented
more trouble. They gathered in a great crowd in front of the house where
the firing had occurred but found that it was only a wedding
celebration. Then, with characteristic good nature, they called for a
speech, but their intentions were misinterpreted, and when the militia,
who had attended the wedding in a body, marched out the students
followed them with jokes and jeers. Finally the militiamen lost patience
and charged with clubbed guns, and one quiet student who had been
apparently only a spectator, was felled to the ground and afterward died
of his injury. The sergeant in charge of the soldiers was also seriously
injured. In this instance the students were guilty of nothing but noise,
while the militia were acting entirely contrary to the law.
Nevertheless, though eight men were arrested, the blame could not be
fixed on any one man. The Governor of the State, however, disbanded the
company for its unsoldierly conduct.
[Illustration: ALONG THE HURON
A glimpse of Ann Arbor's park system]
While the growth of the University of late years would suggest a
corresponding increase in such troubles as have been described, the
actual development has been quite otherwise, and serious clashes between
students and townsfolk have been very rare in recent years. There have,
it is true, been occasional raids on street-cars and signs; students
have been arrested for playing ball on the streets; and sometimes
political meetings have been disturbed. One of the most amusing
incidents of this character was an address given by W.J. Bryan in 1900
from the portico of the Court House. Wild cheering greeted him as he
rose to speak, which lasted for at least fifteen minutes. At first he
was obviously greatly flattered; then he began to suspect something was
not quite right and majestically raised his hand for silence. Instantly
every student waved his hand in response, and the exchange was continued
for some time. Meanwhile the police force was busy dragging off to jail
any unlucky student on the outskirts of the crowd they could lay hands
on. When the speaker was at length able to make himself heard his first
words, somewhat unfortunate under the circumstances, were, "If I were an
imperialist I would call out an army to suppress you. But I am not."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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