Buoyed by the positive reaction to the artichoke spellout, we decided to up the ante for a nationally televised game against Texas, and so created a yell that symbolized Berkeley—the free speech yell. To get the greatest exposure possible, Bob thought it best to do the yell early, while the game was in progress, rather than during one of the many TV timeouts. We couldn’t wait to see what happened.

When the time for the yell arrived, Bob barked out instructions to the student section. “OK, listen up! Free speech yell. ‘Anything-you-want Texas.’ Got it?” Students’ eyes widened. “On three. One. Two. Three!”
Memorial Stadium rang with “F— Texas!” Bob followed up with three rousing “Go Bears!” Students howled in the stands; we cracked up on the ramp. The pom-pon girls moved even farther away.

Monday morning, Bob was summoned to Sproul Hall by Dean Jim Lemmon. Ellsberg was read the riot act. The free speech yell was never, ever, to be done again. Bob defended our actions by pointing out that we did not tell the students what to say, but had simply allowed students to express themselves freely—hence the name of the yell. Dean Lemmon shook his head in disbelief as he kicked Ellsberg out of his office.

A few weeks later, Sports Illustrated ran an article about college spirit in the turbulent ’60s. Our squad, and the free speech yell in particular, was mentioned prominently. It tickled us to think of readers across the country saying, “Just what you’d expect from those Berkeley students.”

But the crowning achievement of the Ellsberg reign was yet to come. During Big Game week, Bob convinced Dean Lemmon to allow a “smoker” —an all-male rally that had been a common prelude to the Big Game rally in generations past—featuring Vicki Drake, a stripper and Stanford grad student. The dean OK’d the rally on Ellsberg’s solemn vow that the main attraction would not disrobe.

Held in a parking lot on College Avenue, the smoker was packed. The mostly male audience (a few women managed to sneak in to observe the spectacle) hooted, hollered, and threw money in hopes that Vicki would take it off. A woman of her word, she remained mostly clothed; nonetheless, the throng was in a frenzy as they headed to the Greek Theatre for the official Big Game rally. The raucous crowd wanted more of Vicki, and when our guest of honor finally took the stage wearing a red Stanford crew jersey, yells of “Take off that red shirt!” filled the air. Soon enough, with some assistance from Oski, Vicki found herself displaying her professional talents as Oski skipped around the stage waving the red shirt triumphantly.

The crowd went bananas. Male students rushed the stage. Ellsberg covered Miss Drake and quickly ushered her offstage to safety. Campus police cleared the scene and, with no lasting damage done, the rally proceeded.

The next week, Bob and Dean Lemmon passed each other on campus. The dean didn’t speak a word, but just shook his head dismissively. Even with free speech, sometimes there’s nothing left to say.


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