[News] The perils of forgotten history - Los Seis de Boulder find their way back to CU thanks to a timely piece of art

[Anti-Imperialist News]

https://www.boulderweekly.com/news/the-perils-of-forgotten-history/


  The perils of forgotten history

*Los Seis de Boulder find their way back to CU thanks to a timely piece 
of art *

ByJoel Dyer <https://www.boulderweekly.com/author/joeldyer/> - August 
29, 2019
------------------------------------------------------------------------
<https://www.boulderweekly.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/08/Web-cover-online-8.29.19.jpg>A 
new public art project is dedicated to the memory of Los Seis de 
Boulder, six Chicano activists who died in bombings just 48 hours a 
part. The art piece is a rectangular sculpture approximately seven feet 
tall containing six mosaic tile portraits that has been placed on a 
concrete slab in front of the TB-1 building just east of Macky 
Auditorium. The sculpture is the result of a community art project 
dreamed up and brought to fruition by Jasmine Baetz, a Master of Fine 
Art student from Canada currently studying at CU.

Joel Dyer

If it’s true that it’s the history we don’t know that dooms us to repeat 
the mistakes of our past, then familiarizing ourselves with the story of 
Los Seis de Boulder (The Six of Boulder) at this time could not be more 
pertinent.

The racism and inequity that once took our nation to the brink has 
resurfaced with a vengeance. Today, we have millions of our Latinx 
neighbors living in fear of having their families torn apart by arrest 
and deportation. We have brown babies being torn from the arms of their 
mothers and locked in cages. We have sick children suffering from 
life-threatening diseases being deported from our hospitals back to 
countries where they will die without treatment. We have tens of 
thousands of Latinx people being held in tortuous conditions in 
facilities so overcrowded as to make laying down impossible. We have a 
president who calls all brown migrants rapists, drug smugglers and MS-13 
gang members. And we have a federal government that is treating migrants 
— most of whom came here seeking asylum after fleeing the violence and 
severe poverty of their home countries — as if the president’s lies were 
true.

The last time this level of racism against Latinx people was so overt it 
was the 1960s and ’70s. That era eventually gave rise to the Chicano 
Movement, and Boulder was at the epicenter of this national struggle for 
social justice and racial equality.

So, what lessons can history teach us about today’s struggles, and what 
does a new piece of public art on the University of Colorado-Boulder 
campus have to do with that history? The answer to both questions is “a 
great deal.”

The referenced public art is a rectangular sculpture approximately seven 
feet tall containing six mosaic tile portraits that has been placed on a 
concrete slab in front of the TB-1 building just east of Macky 
Auditorium. The sculpture is the result of a community art project 
dreamed up and brought to fruition by Jasmine Baetz, a Master of Fine 
Art student from Canada currently studying at CU.

Joel Dyer Artist Jasmine Baetz (right) speaks with Steph Boulton, one of 
the more than 200 people who worked on the Los Seis de Boulder sculpture 
project. The sculpture is located in front of the TB-1 building on the 
CU Boulder campus.

In 2017, by chance, Baetz attended a screening of the film /Symbols of 
Resistance/, a documentary telling the story of Los Seis de Boulder and 
what was going on at CU in 1974. Baetz says, “I try to impress upon 
people how random it was that I went in the room to see it. I got an 
email from the Women in Gender Studies listserv saying, ‘Hey, this film 
is screening tonight.’ And I happened to be in my studio in the building 
next to where it was screening. And I just went over because I wanted a 
break from the studio. I had no understanding of what the content of the 
film was. And I think at that point, if I’d ever seen the word Chicano, 
I didn’t understand what it meant.”

But the film stuck with her as did the words of the panelists that 
night, which included Pricilla Falcon, Chicana activist, professor of 
Hispanic Studies at the University of Northern Colorado and widow of 
murdered Chicano leader Ricardo Falcon.

Baetz saw Los Seis as something akin to Kent State, only in Boulder. 
That’s to say she understood the important historical significance of 
Los Seis and what was happening in the struggle for educational equity 
and social justice on the CU campus in the early 1970s. What she didn’t 
understand was why that rich and important history seemed to be missing 
from the University’s conscience.

So Baetz did what artists do. She decided to create a piece of art that 
could honor the sacrifice of Los Seis de Boulder while also serving as a 
tribute to all those who fight for justice and equity in education.

 From the beginning of the project, which took two years to complete, 
Baetz was committed to making this public work of art a community 
effort. She posted flyers and sent out notices that read:

“You are invited to participate in this community sculpture project that 
is creating a public art sculpture to commemorate the activism of the 
Chicano Student Movement, during which Los Seis, as they became known, 
were killed in two separate and unexplained car bombs on May 27 and 29, 
1974.”

Her efforts were successful.

Baetz says that more than 200 people eventually worked on the sculpture 
in some capacity, including creating the many tiles that make up the 
mosaic portraits of Los Seis. If you look closely at the finished work, 
you’ll see the names of some 60 or so of those who worked on the piece 
written on small individual tiles within the mosaics.

For now, the sculpture’s location at TB-1 has only been granted on a 
temporary basis. But many hope this will be the sculpture’s permanent 
home. It is the perfect place.

The statement that encircles the sculpture’s base reads, “Dedicated in 
2019 to Los Seis de Boulder & Chicana and Chicano students who occupied 
TB-1 in 1974 & everyone who fights for equity in education at CU Boulder 
& the original stewards of this land who were forcibly removed & all who 
remain.” And it adds “Por Todxs Quienes Luehan Por La Justicisa (for all 
those who fight for justice).

For most people familiar with the story of Los Seis, this work of art is 
a long overdue acknowledgment of their sacrifice. For those who lived 
the story in the 1970s and for those now willing to hear and understand 
that story, this piece of art can and should serve as a permanent 
reminder of what happens when inequality and racism become the law of 
the land and the victims of that inequity are left with no option but to 
confront it head-on at all costs.

Forty-five years ago, Boulder was a hotbed of political activity. Years 
of anti-Vietnam War activism coupled with the pursuit of racial justice 
and women’s rights had put the CU campus and Boulder on the government’s 
activist watch list. And they watched no groups more closely than those 
within the Chicano Movement.

Thanks to a number of new student-aid programs launched in 1970, the 
number of students of Mexican heritage on college campuses exploded, and 
Colorado was no exception.

For the first time, students from the San Luis Valley, Pueblo and the 
greater Denver area were arriving on campus in record numbers thanks to 
these new Educational Opportunity Programs. Activists within the growing 
Chicano Movement acted as recruiters across the state in an effort to 
get as many young Chicanos as possible into colleges under the programs, 
which provided money for books, tuition, food and housing.

By 1973, there were nearly 1,500 student members of UMAS (United Mexican 
American Students) on the Boulder campus and they were, to say the 
least, politically active. But not everyone approved of the school’s 
changing demographics.

Joseph Coors was a CU regent in those days, and his beer company had 
been the target of a very effective national boycott started by Chicanos 
over its lack of Mexican-American employees and anti-union stance; 
Coors’ support of conservative politics in general; and his backing of 
grape growers who fought against the boycott organized by Cesar Chavez 
and the United Farm Workers in the 1960s.

As a result of these tensions, according to /BW/’s past interviews with 
a number of those UMAS students from the 1970s, things began to change 
on campus around 1973. These former students claim CU administrators and 
trustees had decided that there were too many Chicano activists at the 
school and that the University began trying to reduce their numbers by 
any and every means possible, ethical or not.

According to those who were there, they say the University began to lose 
the aid files of Chicanos without explanation. Badly needed stipend 
checks failed to arrive on time and some students who fell behind on 
their tuition while waiting for their money were told to leave school. 
This tinkering with student aid only added fuel to the already growing 
fire of the Chicano Movement.

Eventually, frustration erupted into action over the aid situation 
coupled with demands from the UMAS students that two university-hired 
staff members be fired.

On Monday, May 10, 1974, eight students, including Neva Romero (one of 
Los Seis), went to TB-1 early in the morning and barricaded themselves 
on the building’s third floor and refused to leave until their demands 
were met. By evening, a larger group of UMAS students and supporters had 
gathered in front of TB-1. This group then decided to take over the main 
floor of the building.

The next day, now holding the entire building, no one knew exactly what 
to expect. There were police with rifles on nearby rooftops but no one 
seemed willing to negotiate with the students over their demands and the 
phone lines were cut.

The occupation went on for days, then weeks. School finally let out for 
summer but the Chicano students stayed, still holding the building. And 
then things took a turn that no one could have foreseen.

At 9:47 p.m. on May 27, the students occupying TB-1 heard, and felt, a 
massive explosion, as did most of the residents of Boulder. Emergency 
vehicles rolled south past the university and up Baseline Road toward 
Chautauqua Park. A few hours later the tragic news arrived at TB-1; Neva 
Romero and fellow Chicano activists Reyes Martinez and his girlfriend, 
Una Jaakola, had all been killed in a massive explosion while sitting in 
Martinez’ car behind Chautauqua Hall. Their body parts, along with 
pieces of the car, were blown out over several blocks.

The students inside TB-1 were devastated. Their friends were gone, and 
they couldn’t understand how or why it had happened. The next two days 
were long and filled with sadness and confusion, and then the 
unthinkable happened again; another massive explosion shook the windows 
of TB-1.

On May 29, in the parking lot of Pudlik’s Liquor near what is now a 
Burger King on 28th Street, four more young Chicano activists familiar 
to those in TB-1 were in a car that mysteriously exploded in a nearly 
identical fashion as what had occurred only 48 hours earlier.

This time the lives lost belonged to Francisco Dougherty, Heriberto 
Teran and Florencio Granada. The fourth man, Antonio Alcantar, was very 
seriously injured, suffering terrible burns and losing a leg in the blast.

Inside TB-1, shock turned to fear and anger. Six of their own, Los Seis 
de Boulder, had been lost in explosions that no one could explain and 
that were simply too bizarre to have been some kind of freak coincidence.

Finally, following the tragic deaths of Los Seis, the CU administration 
called and negotiated an end to the standoff, giving in to most of the 
student’s demands and promising that no one involved in the occupation 
would be prosecuted. Still, it was a hollow victory.

So, what was happening in Boulder in 1974 that could possibly explain 
the tragic deaths of Los Seis? There are several theories to explain the 
deadly explosions.

Chicano leader Rodolfo “Corky” Gonzales had launched his nationally 
influential Crusade for Justice in Denver in 1967. Having grown weary of 
trying to work on Chicano issues within the established Democratic 
Party, Gonzales eventually concluded that Mexicans should fight for self 
determination over their historical lands in the Southwest. Following a 
shootout between some members of the Crusade and Denver police that 
included an explosion, Gonzales and his organization landed squarely on 
the radar of law enforcement authorities, including the FBI.

As the Chicano Movement grew and became more influential within the 
community, it was only natural that there was plenty of crossover 
between the Chicano activists within UMAS on campus and the larger 
Chicano Movement in Colorado, including the Crusade.

Part of the history of 1974 that has been mostly lost to time is the 
fact that a bomb was going off somewhere in the U.S. on average every 
four days throughout that year. These explosions were blamed on the 
Black Panthers, the Weathermen, the Puerto Rican Independence Movement, 
the American Indian Movement and numerous Chicano organizations, 
including the Brown Berets, the Crusade for Justice and the CU Chicano 
activists.

Virtually all of these bombings were conducted at times when people 
would not be injured. Today they would be called terrorism. But 50 years 
ago, they were considered a tactic for garnering media attention in a 
world that was largely deaf to the voices of people of color.

Few who walk the Pearl Street Mall today have any idea of what was 
happening here in 1974. The Boulder Courthouse was bombed that year. The 
CU police annex and the university president’s house were bombed. A 
local elementary school was bombed because it was considered to be 
discriminating against Spanish-speaking students.

And, of course, the other two bombs that killed Los Seis.

To understand the controversy around the Los Seis bombings requires yet 
another dip into history, this time concerning the FBI’s COINTELPRO 
operations.

As previously described, the country was coming apart at the seams in 
1974. The Vietnam War was still winding down and many groups had been 
formed around racial and geographical identity for the purpose of 
forcing long-overdue political change. These groups, particularly those 
seeking self-determination over certain lands within the U.S., were 
viewed as a serious threat by the U.S. government at the time and still 
today. Thanks to the Freedom of Information Act and a lot of great work 
by journalists over the years, we now know that the FBI’s COunter 
INTELligence PROgram, COINTELPRO, was in full swing in numerous 
locations during the 1960s and ’70s.

In South Dakota, for instance, the FBI’s use of this program is blamed 
for dozens of deaths on the Pine Ridge Reservation, where the Bureau’s 
efforts to disrupt the American Indian Movement (AIM) were a priority.

COINTELPRO was a hideous, albeit effective tactic from the government’s 
point of view. It preyed upon the natural paranoia that exists within 
groups organized to bring about radical political change that required 
secrecy and potential violence.

For instance: Imagine the FBI orchestrating the arrests of 20 activists 
at the same time at a meeting, but then letting just one person go after 
an hour while holding the others for days or weeks. Then later the FBI 
puts that same activist in the back of an FBI car, and drives them past 
places where they will be seen and recognized. And finally, a paid FBI 
plant within the activist ranks starts spreading the rumor that the 
person who got out early and was seen in the car must be an FBI spy. Mix 
in a little fear and paranoia and the next thing you know that perfectly 
innocent person turns up dead, likely at the hands of one of their own.

These are the kind of deadly, dirty tricks that COINTELPRO employed and 
likely still employs albeit under a different name. The government 
claims that it officially ended its decades-long COINTELPRO operations 
in 1971, which it admits were designed for surveilling, infiltrating, 
discrediting and disrupting domestic political organizations. But the 
evidence suggests otherwise.

COINTELPRO also fabricated evidence in order to arrest and imprison 
leaders of these groups. Such was the case for AIM leader Leonard 
Peltier when the FBI fabricated ballistics evidence to secure his 
conviction. And this happened in 1977, long after the program was said 
to have been dissolved. There were also numerous mysterious killings of 
activist leaders in the first half of the 1970s that have never been 
reasonably explained, including Los Seis and their fellow Chicano 
leaders Ricardo Falcon, Luis “Junior” Martinez and Carlos Zapata.

The Chicano Movement, including people from CU and the Crusade for 
Justice, had close ties to AIM during the period of armed conflict in 
South Dakota. Considering the FBI’s operations regarding AIM and its 
claims that Chicano Movement activists were responsible for a series of 
bombings in Boulder and Denver at the time, it makes sense that the FBI 
would have deployed its COINTELPRO operations among the Chicano 
activists on the Front Range. But any documents that the Bureau had 
regarding its surveillance and efforts to disrupt the CU and Denver 
groups is said to have been destroyed in a fire. So, for now, we are 
left with three theories of what happened to Los Seis.

The law enforcement version of events is that the young activists blew 
themselves up accidentally while setting the timers on bombs they 
intended to plant at nearby locations. Space does not allow for a full 
examination of the criticisms of this theory here. But issues concerning 
the handling of the crime scene and the actions of the FBI and local 
police and first responders in the days and hours before the explosions 
do challenge this perspective.

There is also a theory that turf wars within the Chicano Movement itself 
could have led to Chicano on Chicano violence resulting in the deaths of 
Los Seis. But that theory has no evidence to support it and, even if 
true, would likely have been attributable to FBI COINTELPRO operations.

And the final theory, which has long been the most accepted within 
Chicano circles, is that the government, by way of COINTELPRO, killed 
the six young activists by planting bombs in their vehicles or by 
rigging the timers on bombs that were going to be used as a form of 
protest to go off prematurely. The ultimate goal for the FBI under this 
scenario being to disrupt the growing Chicano activism on the CU campus, 
the Front Range, across Colorado and the nation.

The Chicano Movement was born in response to the long-held racism and 
inequitable treatment of people of Mexican descent living in the U.S. — 
some who immigrated here legally, some who did so without proper 
documentation and some who were born here after the border had crossed 
them.

Los Seis de Boulder are considered martyrs within the past and current 
Chicana/Chicano Movement because regardless of the circumstances that 
led to their tragic deaths, they died fighting for justice for their 
people. That point is not arguable.

It is good that CU is allowing these six young Chicano activists to be 
honored by the sculpture in front of TB-1 and much good can, and needs, 
to come from it.

On a recent afternoon I asked 225 people walking past the sculpture if 
they knew who the people in the mosaics were or the story behind the 
art. A staffer in TB-1 knew because she had taken the time to research 
the story after the piece was sited. Another university employee from 
the archive department also knew the story because of her position of 
employment. But the other 223 people — mostly students but also some 
faculty — had no idea who Los Seis were or the story of the TB-1 
struggle for educational equity.

That is why this piece of art is so important to this campus and this 
town and this country. If the history of what occurred in the 1960s and 
’70s in the struggle against racism and inequality for Latinx people is 
lost or forgotten or simply unknown, then we are surely doomed to repeat 
that history.

If we can learn the lessons from our past, perhaps we can change our 
current course away from the horrible racism that has overtaken our 
government and too many of our citizens by using the voting booth 
instead of more drastic measures. If so, then perhaps the deaths of 
young innocents can be avoided this time around. For many, that is the 
message and importance of this sculpture. It is the history we don’t 
know. It is the history we must learn.

The sculpture will be officially dedicated on Friday, Sept. 6.

Everyone is invited. **

*ON THE BILL: Los Seis de Boulder; *Community-created sculpture 
dedication and celebration. Sept. 6, 2 p.m., TB-1 building, CU campus 
east of Macky Auditorium and west of the Rec center at 3:30 p.m., 
Speakers and a screening of the film Symbols of Resistance at Case 
Auditorium.

-- 
Freedom Archives 522 Valencia Street San Francisco, CA 94110 415 
863.9977 https://freedomarchives.org/
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