Dr. Harold Siegel, psychology professor at Rutgers-Newark, sits relaxed in his leather chair. His campus office is filled with a clutter of papers that consume both his desk and his table. On the filing cabinet is a bottle of Sambuca. “I don’t like to drink,” says the man with the wild, white hair. “Only on occasion,” he chuckles.
Watching Siegel is like peering into a window to the past. His wild hair, grown during the ’60s, was part of a trend that represented youth’s contempt for conformity and structure. Once, his hair stirred during the changing winds of an antiwar protest. Now it hangs, wanting to return to the days when student activism was a trend of the day. In his youth, this man saw many radical sights. As he talks about those days a smirk breaks through his lips, and he erupts into a roar of laughter. These were good times for Seigel, times filled with protest, higher learning and transformations that made him the man he is today.
Siegel, a rowdy spirit with a studious mind, is a product of the political, cultural and religious revolution of the 1960s. He found himself forced to face and think about issues—like the Vietnam War and the civil rights movement—that motivated him to be concerned about issues outside his world of Hoboken, N.J. As a youth, his thought and behavior were nonconformist. His religious practices were a testament to this. “I remember my mother asking me why I wasn’t more Jewish, all the while sending me to Seton Hall Prep, a Catholic high school.” His “goofy mom,” as he put it, didn’t conform to the notion that one must adhere to one belief system. She found herself teetering between two worlds: Judaic and Catholic. His mother’s dual spirituality confused young Siegel and made him briefly wonder what he should believe in. “Once, I even considered converting to Christianity, but my mother threatened that if I did, she would disown me.”
The professor shakes his head as he recalls this confusing dualism: “Back then, I was bombarded with two religions so that I didn’t know what exactly to believe in. Plus, there was so much going on in the ’60s, and I was so preoccupied with the war and civil rights that I couldn’t really care about worshiping a higher power. This is why I currently don’t have any religious beliefs.”
After his graduation from Hoboken High School in 1965, Siegel left home to receive a college education at Rutgers University in New Brunswick. At the time many young people, including himself, were swept up in the ’60s “revolution.” Convention was detested. Obedience to authority was rejected. Rebellion was everywhere. Experimentation with drugs and use of alcohol were a big part of the ’60s party scene. “Oh, yeah, I drank a lot in college. You drink at the parties that were thrown on the weekends on campus. The only problem, though, was that I would get sick easily from the alcohol. I tried tricks like drinking milk before drinking. Allegedly, that was supposed to coat my stomach so I wouldn’t get sick. Didn’t work—still got sick, but I still drank anyway.”
Time: fall semester of college, freshman year, 1965. Place: Rutgers University, New Brunswick. Harold Siegel smirks at his buddies. The freshmen boys quietly tiptoe up to the unsuspecting victim’s door. They pack as much snow as possible in front of their fellow student’s door, basically covering the large area in front of the door. The pranksters give each other a thumbs up and cackle as they make their swift exit from the scene. From a distance, there is laughter as they wait for all the snow to melt and flood their victim’s room.
This was college life for the young rebel. The freedom of being away from home, the intoxicating freshness of the changing times and a need to be a bit rebellious helped Siegel earn warnings in four out of his five classes that semester. These warnings were issued when a student was doing poorly in class, and this student was doing very poorly. Not attending class, going to an endless string of weekend parties and playing pranks filled this student’s time more than homework, lectures and studying. “This was how life was back then. Everyone was so caught up in the excitement of protests and everything that class didn’t seem as important or interesting.”
Siegel shakes his head. His hippielike hair sways back and forth as he recounts how much he distrusts the government. “I didn’t trust the government back then. I couldn’t understand how they could continue to let Americans die in a war that didn’t need to be fought. I think that our own government lied about things like where they were bombing and the number of casualties. Because of that, I still don’t trust them.” From the very beginning of the war, Siegel, like other youths, couldn’t understand the United States’ reasons for fighting in a war that didn’t concern them. He believed that many American lives were being violently wasted by a corrupt government that couldn’t be trusted by its own people.
Like others, Siegel vehemently opposed the Vietnam War because of his personal connection to it. “Everyone knew someone who was fighting in the war. Everyone knew someone who died in the war. My friends were some of the lives that were lost over there.” A complete opposition to the government branched into an opposition to and subtle disregard for authority in general. Siegel began to question why the American people should obey and serve a government that was risking American lives for an unknown reason.
He sternly believed that if he ever got drafted, he would flee to the Canadian border to avoid fighting a nonsensical war. Luckily for him, an arthritic hip, a condition that developed in 1963 and resulted in numerous surgeries, saved him from serving.
Siegel joined many of his fellow students in countless antiwar marches and teach-ins, which were a way for even the faculty to protest the war. A professor would basically cancel the class session and take his students to another location where the students had the right to voice their opinions on any issue. In Siegel’s eye, this created a sense of unity among his peers. It gave protesters the ability to freely proclaim their beliefs, and it united people in a common cause. One by one, activists would rise up and shout out their concerns and opinions over a strumming of guitars and singing of folk songs. “I would attend a march at least once a week. Usually, we would all gather at a certain location. Some people would bring picket signs. Others would shout out what they wanted to protest. Either way, each marcher somehow indicated to those around them that they were unhappy with the Vietnam War or that they believed firmly in the growth of the civil rights movement. I never liked the picket signs so I shouted.”
The ’60s were such a great and exciting time for Siegel because all these happenings made a person proud to be an American. A true American was proud to stand up for his beliefs by participating in a unifying cause. People were forced to think of issues outside their personal world. They were forced to think about issues that affected everyone everywhere.
Dr. Siegel sits still in his chair, hands behind his head and wonders what happened to student activism. He knows that his I-hate-Bush mentality is shared by many students, but he doesn’t understand why no one is compelled to protest Bush’s decisions and the war in Iraq. He is furious at these complacent students because they ignore the larger issues in the world. They are too preoccupied with their own little lives and their own problems. Doesn’t any of this affect them? Where’s the activism? Where’s the concern? Where’s the unity?
Siegel’s smile fades as he begins to remember that the ’60s are gone. All that is left of the time is the man he is now. His beliefs, the way he approaches certain matters, even the way he wears his hair are all influenced by his love for the ’60s. He still doesn’t trust the government and the way it runs the country. He believes in giving warning notices to students who are at risk of getting expelled from school. His strong opinions and fiery spirit are still a part of him. “I should never say ‘never,’ but I will never change.” And he has yet to cut that long hair. “I have a haircut tomorrow, but I doubt I’ll take much off.” He still even wears his Levi’s button-down jean shirt from the ’60s.
He was alive back then protesting, pranking and, on occasion, partying. College life now is still pretty wild, but without Woodstock concerts and open orgies of drug use. What is fundamentally different between the ’60s and today is the lack of concern in worldly matters. One thing the ’60s has taught Siegel is that there is a world beyond what you see and what you directly experience. There should be concern with matters outside your own life. Today, students constantly rebel against authority, but are they fighting for the right reasons? Or are they just rebels without a cause?
Carissa Hipolito is an Honors College student at Rutgers-Newark.
