Walking on the Cal campus in early May 1960, I received a leaflet about a student demonstration planned against hearings of the House Committee on Un-American Activities at the San Francisco City Hall. As a freshman considering a major in political science, I was interested. What, I thought, was an un-American activity? My roommate and I decided to go to the hearing.

HUAC was part of the nationÕs anti-communist hysteria of the 1950s. It is difficult today to imagine what this was like. Even the California Legislature had such a committee. The effort had its roots in the U.S. Senate, led by the infamous Joe McCarthy, who thought the reason China became communist was that the U.S. Army and the State Department were full of communists.

The only thing I knew about communists was that Russians were communist. In elementary school, we practiced ducking under our desks in case the Russian communists dropped atomic bombs on Marin County.

These things were in my thoughts as we took our bus to San Francisco. At City Hall, the hearing was under way, but only people who had passes issued by the committee were being admitted. Over loudspeakers in the rotunda one could hear committee members grilling local teachers and labor activists about their Òun-American activities.Ó Most of the exchanges involved speeches by right-wing congressmen like the chairman, Ed Willis of Louisiana, as witnesses cited the Fifth Amendment and refused to cooperate.

A student near me said, ÒIsnÕt this supposed to be an open public meeting?Ó Students began to chant ÒLet us inÓ and ÒMr. Willis, weÕre still here.Ó Another student, who had been involved in early civil rights demonstrations in the South, explained what a Òsit-inÓ was. We sat down on the cold marble floor of the rotunda. The sheriff came out and said this was an unlawful assembly. The police put up a big barricade. I was amazed to see plainclothes police uncoil a fire hose.

We kept sitting and chanting. Suddenly we were sprayed with water, full and hard. I backed up and didnÕt get too wet. The S.F. riot police arrived, running up the steps. They seemed to be clubbing anybody who appeared to be wet. They ran past me. Other cops pushed me and my roommate outside. We went to the street and watched as more than 60 drenched students were pushed into police vehicles, some bleeding from their wounds. We had never before seen police act in this way. It made a deep impression.

The next day, 10 times as many students turned out to protest the committee. The San Francisco ChronicleÕs entire front page was a huge photo of young people being washed down the City Hall steps, with a headline that said ÒStudents Riot.Ó My parents were angry that I was among these troublemakers. But all charges against the demonstrators were dismissed.

This was HUACÕs last hurrah. The demonstrations and the controversial police response got more press than the committeeÕs ÒinvestigationsÓ into subversive teaching, etc. Congress disbanded HUAC soon after. On campus, we began to call this event ÒBlack Friday.Ó It was the beginning of a new student political awareness that grew into the 1964 Free Speech Movement, and energized the civil rights and anti-Vietnam War efforts of the late 1960s and early Õ70s.

Last week was the 50th anniversary of the HUAC demonstrations. There was a commemorative gathering on the City Hall steps. I could not attend, but I did find my old ÒNo on HUACÓ button. The memory is still clear. Its meaning is even clearer.

Ñ Ken Wagstaff, a longtime Davis resident, is a former mayor of Davis.