So, can you tell us about that media-conscious exchange you heard that day in Southie?
On day in Southie we were coming up the hill in one of the, ah, Mayor's cars, and I was sitting with Bob Kiley, who was essentially a Deputy Mayor. And there had just been I'm sorry--
We were going up a hill one day in South Boston. I think it was probably the second or third or fourth week of busing. And I was with, ah, Bob Kiley, who was essentially the Deputy Mayor, sitting in one of the Mayor's cars, heading up the hill. There had just been yet another incident. Cops, White cops dealing with their White neighbors, and police screaming, ah, "Get out of the way!" and kids and mothers and fathers screaming, "Police brutality!" Sort of a replay of the White college kids fighting with cops earlier, or Blacks dealing with cops in the street. History was repeating itself in interesting ways, and a crowd of kids were moving up the hill, and our window was open. And we clearly heard one kid say to another, "No, that'll be too late to make the six o'clock, but it'll be on the eleven o'clock news." And, Kiley turned to me and shook his head, and said, "Don't tell me these people aren't aware." In other words, they're out there for a principle, bad or good, but folks also get out because they want to be on TV There's no question about it. Now, I would argue that were there no television, there would still have been fighting in the street. There still would have been hatred, there still would have been moments of accommodation. But the presence of the camera is startling, and for your lot of people, for a lot of people who will have their names in the newspaper only when they die, and there will be a little paid death notice, almost anything, any kind of access to becoming a star, even for 30 seconds is quite important to them, White or Black.