As I backed away from the brawl, two dogs began fighting behind me and a march leader shouting “Peace!” into his bullhorn was attacked by a freak wearing a Prussian helmet. The anti-war parade had turned savagely on itself.

Rubin, a Yippie organizer and veteran of every major protest since the first Berkeley uprising in 1964, was staring at the chaos around the flag-pole. “Awful,” he muttered: “This whole thing is depressing. . . no life, no direction. . . this may be the last demonstration.”

His words echoed a notion I'd just scribbled in my notebook: “No more singing, no more speeches, farewell to all that. . .” I understood what Rubin meant; our paths had crossed constantly in the past four years, from the Bay Area to Chicago. . . always on different levels of involvement, he as a central figure and I as a journalist. . . but now, in 1969, it was obvious to both of us that the scene had changed drastically.

Violence and confrontation are the themes now. The whole concept of “peaceful protest” died in Chicago, at the Democratic Convention. Nobody invited Joan Baez to Washington; nobody sang “We Shall Overcome.” There were other, newer slogans here, like “Kill the Pigs!” “---- the War,” and “Two-Four-Six-Eight. . . Organize to Smash the State!”

Vicious dissidence is the style. Nobody goes limp. They throw rocks at the cops, then run. . . and two minutes later they pop up somewhere else and throw more rocks. We have come a long way from Berkeley and the Free peech Movement. There is a new meanness on both sides. . . and no more humor.

For Rubin, the change is bitterly personal. As a result of the police riot in Chicago, he is now free on $25,000 bail, charged with solicitation to commit mob action, a felony carrying a possible five-year prison sentence. In the good old days, three months in jail was considered harsh punishment for a protest leader. Now, in the Nixon era, people like Rubin are candidates for the bastinado.

As for me. . . well, the change is not yet physical. With press credentials, I usually manage to avoid arrest. . . although I suspect that, too, will change in the new era. A press badge or even a notebook is coming to be a liability in the increasingly polarized atmosphere of these civil conflicts. Neutrality is obsolete. The question now, even for a journalist, is “Which side are you on?” In Chicago I was clubbed by police: In Washington I was menanced by demonstrators.