Reception Centers Fight Chaos As the Marchers Keep Pouring In

WASHINGTON, D. C. - The Asbury Methodist Church isn't in one of Washington's better neighborhoods. "11th and K? Four blocks over." said the passerby, "but for God's sake, becareful in there."

Outside the church, one of four New Mobe reception centers for out of town marchers, are two lines of people. One pours from Greyhound buses into the center. The other files out of the center into yellow school buses heading for Arlington Cemetery and the March Against Death.

Thursday evening it was raining and they were running out of death marchers, so as people entered the building the reception staff immediately took the luggage and sent the marchers out into the other line.

The basement of the church is set up as if for a church bazaar. Little booths roped off with string sell anti-war books (ten per cent off), food (coffee and sandwich for a fifteen cent "donation"), and bumper stickers (fifty cents). Others provide general information, housing arrangements, and the ever-present leaflets and flyers.

On a bulletin board in the middle of the room, people have left messages for their friends:

"Detroit-Tony Polak and T. M. I'm in D C somewhere, Mike P."

Cold Loaf

"Dick Nixon-come home. Your meat loaf is getting cold. Pat."

Asbury Methodist is one of four reception centers New Mobe has set up throughout the city. Marchers from each state are assigned to a center. Two of the centers are twice as large as this one. A minister from Wellesley at the information booth said this center processed 425 people between 7 and 10 p. m. Thursday.

As in any organization, a status system makes its presence felt. A Silver Springs, Md., housewife at the housing booth said that people who arrive in buses are placed in "institutions" (i. e., gymnasium floors); while those who come individually are more likely to get spaces in private homes. Not that there are a lot of these.

An old gentleman offered to put up three marchers in his studio apartment, and the woman countered, "How about six?" And though everyone is anxious for the commune effect. there is an unconvincing cardboard sign on a door to the rear, warning "Staff Only!" Behind this door are two more doors, one labelled "Special Staff Only."

Everyone wears armbands. Some say "Peace." some say "Moratorium." and black ones for the March Against Death don't have to say anything.

The Veneer Cracks

So through the veneer of efficient organization-the files, signs, arrows, and loudspeakers-the chaos occasionally emerges.

While the Wellesley minister explained patiently to a girl from the University of Colarado that it wouldn't pay for her to take a cab out to her roommate's cousin's house in Baltimore, and that the Georgetown University gym wouldn't be all that uncomfortable, another young man wearing an official-looking badge ordered people out into the buses for Arlington Cemetery and the death march.

"Death march?" wailed a girl as she was shoved out the door. "I can't go on the death march. My hair's a mess."