Thousands Hit the Streets for Peace

From college students and grandmothers to businessmen and toddlers, thousands protested America’s war on terrorism Saturday, a day originally marked for massive demonstrations against the policies of the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund.

Following the Sept. 11 attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, the two financial organizations canceled their annual meetings here because of security concerns. At that point, organizers changed the focus of their protest from antiglobalization to antiwar, and a new wave of demonstrators from around the country packed into vans and buses for Washington to support peace on a march to the Capitol.

While the number of marchers--most estimates put it at about 10,000--fell far short of the 100,000 expected for the antiglobalization protests, those who participated called the day a good beginning.

One of them was Nora Freeman, whose antiwar roots go back to the early 1970s when her parents took her to march against the Vietnam War. On Saturday, Freeman, 45, a speech therapist from Port Chester, N.Y., was marching again--although, admittedly, her message this time was a lot less popular.

“Nobody has ever asked me what I think,” she said of polls that estimate that more than 90% of Americans support the Bush administration’s response to the terrorist attacks.

Ashton Applewhite, 49, a writer from New York City, wore a sandwich-board sign declaring: “Our Grief is not a Cry for War.”

“It is important not to let our collective loss be appropriated for aggressive military actions,” she said. “I know we are a minority now, but it’s important for the world to know that there is a growing antiwar movement.”

Applewhite stressed the distinction between punishing Osama bin Laden, whose terror network is believed to be behind the Sept. 11 assaults, and waging an attack where innocents could be harmed or killed.

In Los Angeles, as many as 2,000 demonstrators, representing a hodgepodge of political and religious groups, gathered in front of the Federal Building in Westwood.

They waved handmade placards and chanted, “One, two, three, four, we don’t want your racist war,” before marching through Westwood Village with a sizable police escort. A handful of counterdemonstrators who support military action moved across the street from the Federal Building after police separated the two groups.

Flanked by dozens of Los Angeles police officers in riot gear, several hundred people marched peacefully through downtown.

“Islam is not the enemy, war is not the answer,” chanted the Coalition of Anti-Globalization Activists, led by Aztec-costumed drummers and dancers.

Organizers said the march up Broadway had been scheduled since June to protest issues like free trade, American involvement in Colombia’s civil war and the Immigration and Naturalization Service’s border crackdown.

The Washington demonstrators were loud and defiant, marching to chants of “No war,” and “While we still can, stop the war in Afghanistan.” The protest was mostly peaceful, although dozens of police in riot gear were a commanding presence. Several arrests were made, police said.

At one point, officers used pepper spray to control a few rowdy participants.

For the most part, though, the atmosphere was festive. Some demonstrators marched in clown costumes or on stilts. Others brought their children. One woman pushed a baby carriage draped in a sign that read: “Bombs and babies don’t mix.”

Diners, joggers and tourists stopped to watch the colorful group. Some observers accepted antiwar fliers from the protesters, while others were enraged.

“These people make me sick,” said Mike McEleney, a Florida native now working for a Republican member of Congress. His friend, Frank, stood on a park bench shouting, “You morons,” as the protesters, many of whom were students, passed by.

“They’re trying to tear us apart,” said Frank, who didn’t want his last name used. “This is a time when we need unity.”

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Times staff writers Daren Briscoe and Joe Mozingo in Los Angeles contributed to this story.