'Chicago 10' offers compelling footage, but its revisionism can be distracting

By BILL WHITE
SPECIAL TO THE P-I

In August 1968, thousands of anti-war protesters went to Chicago to celebrate a Festival of Life as a counter-activity to the Democratic National Convention. The city's refusal to grant the necessary permits for this gathering resulted in protests, and in violent attacks on the protesters by police.

Following the August riots, eight defendants were tried for conspiring to cross state lines with the intent to create various disturbances in the city. With Black Panther Bobby Seale separated from the rest of the group and tried individually, these defendants became known as The Chicago 7.

Now, 40 years later, documentarian Brett Morgan ("The Kid Stays in the Picture") has made a film called "Chicago 10," restoring Seale to the mix, and adding defense attorneys William Kunstler and Leonard Weinglass, apparently because they received sentences for contempt.

Making the seven into 10 is only the beginning of Morgan's revisionism in his transformation of history into what might be called speculative allegory.

Music, an essential ingredient of the '60s revolution, is the first thing Morgan changes. We see the MC5 performing in the park, but it is Rage Against the Machine that we hear. In another scene, police escort a group of protesters from a rally to the accompaniment of rap music. Morgan may imagine that by changing the soundtrack he is making the events relevant to young people today, but it is a transparent sleight of hand that is unlikely to fool anybody.

What makes "Chicago 10" an important film, however, is the wealth of visual material Morgan has collected. Images from the Chicago riots have been used in earlier films, most notably Haskell Wexler's "Medium Cool," but never has such an enormous amount of footage from so many diverse sources been available in one place.

Morgan's decision to animate the trial segments is justifiable: Cameras were forbidden in the courtroom. The animation is preferable to out-and-out dramatization, which would have conflicted with the accompanying footage of real people outside the courthouse. The actors performing the voiceovers -- particularly Roy Scheider as Judge Hoffman -- do justice to the original tones and cadences of the trial transcripts.

There is plenty in "Chicago 10" to annoy those who lived through the period. The content selected for the courtroom scenes serves only to accentuate the outrageousness of the trial. (For example, Allen Ginsberg recited several poems during his testimony for the defense, but the one chosen for the film is an erotic poem having nothing to do with his participation in the protest.) Other witnesses are noticeably absent -- such as Phil Ochs, who had more to do with the planning of the protest than some of the defendants.

On other occasions, the film veers from the time frame of the convention and its aftermath to include such parenthetical material as Mayor Richard Daley's order to shoot all looters on sight during the riots following Martin Luther King's assassination. Morgan probably is suggesting a precedent to Daley's use of blind force in response to public chaos, but he does not make it clear that such an insinuation is intentional.

Yet there are many moments of historical force here, such as a clip of Walter Cronkite declaring "the Democratic Convention is about to begin in a police state." With its scenes of tear gas rolling into Lincoln Park accompanied by the cries of a random victim of police brutality desperately singing "We Shall Overcome" as she is forcefully shoved into a police wagon, "Chicago 10" is a timely reminder that dissident youth once were viewed by the government as enemies of the state. In 1968, as the cameras rolled, one of the slogans echoing through the brutalized crowds was "the whole world is watching." Morgan's collection of these images forces us to keep watching, and recognize this as part of our very recent history.

It also is a reminder of a line from one of the many songs Ochs wrote in response to the events of Chicago: "They teach you in the classroom that it can't happen here. But it has happened here."

Conversation with U.S. Student Ifshin Reported

[Interview with National Committee Member of the Association of American Students David Ifshin; Montevideo, Uruguay, El Popular, Spanish, 15 October 1971, p 2]

Hours before the government, in one more demonstration of its hatred of liberties and its scorn for rights and constitutional rules, expelled him from the country (the only Americans acceptable in the eyes of the government are inspectors from the IMF or agents of the CIA), we had the opportunity to chat with David Ifshin, former president of the National Association of American Students (grouping student associations of 500 of the 800 universities in his country), who visited Uruguay after participating in the Congress of Solidarity with Vietnam, which was organized in Santiago, Chile by the IUS and the WFDY. Ifshin, who has visited the Democratic Republic of Vietnam and who currently belongs to the national committee of the Association of American Students, participated at Santiago as an observer for the association.

Question: What are the most important characteristics of the American student movement?

Answer: Until now, the student movement has centered its efforts especially on the struggle against the war in Vietnam and for integration of the black people. Another subject which mobilizes American students is the question of university reform.

Question: What do students demands concerning the reform consist of?

Answer: It is being demanded that the existing competitive system in the universities for achieving better qualifications and better positions be done away with. This is the present system, and it represents an application of the success theory to the university environment. This theory was very important as a factor for mobilization. But it was understood that what is behind this system is the capitalist structure, which finds expression through competition, as in racial discrimination or in the war in Vietnam. Developments in the struggles have brought the students and the black population to understand that the struggle for partial objectives has no future and that it is a question of involving the entire social and economic structure. One of the important elements in helping to clarify the issue was the slaughter at Attica.

Question: Was this reflected in the movement?

Answer: There is one chief contradiction within the students' and people's movement. Having a greater awareness of what the real problem behind each of these expressions is, and beginning to face up to a general questioning of the capitalist structure, there still exist sectors which center their struggle around a particular demand -- some for improvements, others for women's rights, others for the war in Vietnam, and others for university reform. This means that despite a growing awareness of the total problem, difficulties which hold back the development of the movement remain due to this attention to partial demands.

Question: How is this problem met?

Answer: The struggle against the war in Vietnam has been taken at the center, and through this an attempt is made to unify the movement. Last spring one of the largest demonstrations for putting a stop to the war in Vietnam took place. Even the reactionary American press admitted that more than half a million persons took part in this demonstration. Students, workers, union leaders, and even important personalities, congressmen, and senators took part. It was called by the National Action Coalition for Peace and the People's Coalition for Peace and Justice, which not only called for the demonstration, but also for the application of civil disobedience measures. I mention in passing that the association of students belongs to both coalitions.

At the head of the demonstration was the Truckers' Union, one of the largest in the country, which takes part in demonstrations against the war in Vietnam, as well as many other unions. In addition -- and for the first time -- veterans of the Vietnam War, in uniform, took part in the demonstration for 5 days, opposing the government and the Supreme Court. This is the first time in the history of the United States that war veterans have participated against a war that was still going on. This protest demonstration continued for a week and was headlined nationally. The Supreme Court order the veterans to withdraw. They refused, and Nixon did not feel encouraged to give the police a public order to throw them out by force, although that was the order requested. There was one point at which the police refused to repress the veterans. For that reason -- because that atmosphere existed -- Nixon did not have the courage to give a public order for them to be thrown out. The veterans camped at night in a park near the Supreme Court. This demonstration took place in Washington. Many of the veterans who took part in it had been crippled in the war.

Even the reactionary press commented in its headlines that the war veterans disregarded the Supreme Court. Many of these veterans appeared voluntarily to accuse themselves as war criminals for having been in Vietnam.

It is becoming understood more and more that the war in Vietnam is not an isolated problem, but only the most severe and the most concrete example of American imperialism: something that can happen in Vietnam, as in Bolivia, Uruguay, or another part of the world.

Question: Particularly, in Latin America...?

Answer: Especially at this time, the subject of Latin America is entering a crucial period, according to [copy unclear; possibly intended to read: as is understandable]. The U.S. Government has not defined a policy for Latin America because it finds no way in which to explain it to the American people. The movement is trying to create awareness, so that people will understand the imperialist maneuver before action takes place and not afterward, as happened in Vietnam.

I think that the conditions are being created and that we are arriving at a point at which it will be possible to restrain aggression, for example, of the Santo Domingo type. Nixon is keeping the U.S. policy more and more a secret and deceiving the American people, because the people's movement is becoming a force capable of checking aggression. The government is going to have to think twice before carrying out an attack or an invasion. Even the U.S. military power has been broken. The Army wants to get out of Vietnam, despite the fact that 10 years ago it wanted to go into Vietnam. It must be said that the morale of the soldiers in Vietnam has hit bottom. More than 20 percent of the soldiers are drug addicts. Of course, Nixon lies to the people. He is trying to sue not soldiers, but mechanized warfare: bombing raids, for example, in order to avoid casualties and the participation of soldiers in combat. He thinks that he can keep the war more or less secret, to the extent that there are no dead soldiers. Our work is directed toward making people understand that the problem is not one of dead soldiers but of imperialist aggression.

Question: What is the government doing about the movement?

Answer: Nixon responds on many levels. The first thing was to say that the movement was violent, irresponsible, and controlled by foreign powers; that is, the use of anticommunism. But it is very easy to answer this, because all the violence of the movement cannot be compared to U.S. violence in 1 day of war in Vietnam. I must say that the attacks against the left have strengthened the left.

In addition, they have again had recourse to supposedly liberal methods, saying that the United States is a free country and that everyone can express himself as long as he is not violent, also that anyone who tries to do something is an extremist. They also accuse the leaders with criminal charges, as in the case of Angela Davis or Bobby Seale, one of the leaders of the Black Panthers, who was jailed with the other leaders, and who was released recently. They try to isolate the leaders of the movement in addition to attempting to frighten the movement.

They also make it necessary to divert forces, since the struggle to liberate the prisoners draws off forces, requires much effort, money, and so on.

Question: What do the American people think of Latin America?

Answer: The American people know very little about Latin America. They have been indoctrinated with false ideas. Many of my leftist friends did not understand why I was coming to Latin America. Only one sector of the left is really aware of what is happening in Latin America. For that reason I think it is very important to coordinate our forces and our movements in order to make more information available concerning what is happening. I think we have much to learn from Latin American experiments such as Popular Unity in Chile, the Broad Front in Uruguay, and the National Assembly of the Argentines. Many people in the United States think Latin America is limited to Bolivia, Cuba, and Mexico. I believe that the meeting in Chile was very important, but I think that more open contacts must be made in order to make better coordination easier.

--Transmitted by the CIA as part of Operation MHCHAOS

Hope keeps the weeds of cynicism from strangling democracy's flowers

By Nick Licata
Special to The Times

As the Democratic National Convention approaches, the one held 40 years ago in Chicago offers an insight into how the next election might turn out.

In 1968, the United States was embroiled in the unpopular Vietnam War, with hundreds of thousands of protesters marching in the streets. Today, the U.S. is stuck in the unpopular war in Iraq.

Although the number of protest marches is down, opinion polls show greater discontent with this war. It was not until after the 1968 election that a Gallup Poll revealed a slight majority of Americans favoring a withdrawal from Vietnam. Today, before the party's nominating conventions, three in five Americans (61 percent) think U.S. forces should get out of Iraq within a year.

Nevertheless, unlike the thousands of protesters battling police outside the Democrats' '68 national convention, there will be no mass protests at either party's convention, despite an ongoing war and an unpopular incumbent president.

There will be none for three obvious reasons. There is no draft and therefore college students, who formed the backbone of the Vietnam protests, do not have to think about trudging in a swampy jungle after trampling the trimmed lawns of their campuses. The number of soldiers in Iraq is a third of what we had deployed in Vietnam — 160,000 versus 500,000 — and that includes the latest "surge" of troops. Finally, this war's "embedded" media in our military limits opportunities to beam home images of civilian carnage and, thus, there is less anger and shock than accompanied the gritty Vietnam War photos from more independent journalists.

But, most important, there is another reason: cynicism has not corrupted our spirit. In '68, there was a growing sense of cynicism, best expressed by the growing baby-boomer population, that fed the nation's anger and discouragement with politics. At the June 1968 national convention of the Students for a Democratic Society, the largest student organization to ever exist in the U.S., the predominant attitude was that the upcoming election was a fraud that would only foster the illusion of democracy. There was little hope that electoral politics could end the war.

The chance for hope was dashed when Democratic presidential candidate Robert Kennedy was assassinated a week before the SDS meeting. He was on the way to winning over the doubtful; even anti-war folk singer Phil Ochs, known for his cynical ballad "Love me, I'm a Liberal," was a Bobby Kennedy fan.

Today, that sense of hope is being expressed most visibly through the younger generation embracing another relatively neophyte politician, Sen. Barack Obama, to the chagrin of Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton, who is as respectable a legislator as Sen. Hubert Humphrey was in '68.

Both Clinton and Humphrey have legislative track records that are significant and progressive. But fate dealt each a hand with an ace of spades, that killer card that portends doom despite its apparent value. In both of their cases, it's an ex- or soon-to-be-ex-president.

Humphrey, who was the strongest critic of the Vietnam War inside the Lyndon Johnson administration, had to keep his saber in his sheath during the campaign so as not to wound his commander-in-chief, who had chosen not to run for re-election. Clinton has to keep reminding everyone that she is not another Bill Clinton; she is truly a progressive in her own right.

Similar to Humphrey, she has a dominant ex-president as her closest and most public ally. And, in her eagerness for the ex-president's crown, she has muted her own potential for inspiring change in the way things are done in the nation's capital, as Humphrey did.

A replay of Humphrey's valiant but ultimate failure at the polls should cause a Democrat's heart to skip a beat. The question that many Democrats are asking themselves is, which ship can make it to shore this time?

The crowds, and their enthusiasm, point the way. Hope is what wins elections, not résumés, no matter how long or meritorious. Hope is what drives the voters to the polls. It's what keeps the weeds of cynicism from strangling democracy's flowers. It is why there will be no repeat of the '68 convention's roiling, mass demonstrations.

And, it is why the nominee who can capture the spirit of that hope will reach the shore next fall.

Nick Licata is a member of the Seattle City Council and a former chapter president of Students for a Democratic Society at Bowling Green State University.

Anti-war music event planned next week in Burlington

BURLINGTON -- The Peace & Justice Center in Burlington will present an evening of anti-war music, past and present, at 7 p.m. on March 7 at City Hall's Contois Auditorium.

The event - "I Ain't Marching Anymore," a Phil Ochs Song Night - marks five years of the occupation of Iraq. It is meant to pull the Vietnam War and Iraq War protest music into one show. Vermont musicians will be performing one Phil Ochs song and one original song.

Phil Ochs is widely known for writing and performing protest music during the Vietnam War 40 years ago. Och's song titles include "Draft Dodger Rag," "Cops of the World" and "Is there Anybody Here." At the time of his death in 1976, Ochs had written over 100 songs.

The show will feature performances by musicians that span generations. Some of the older performers have experienced both the Vietnam War and the Iraq War. The younger performers have the experience of the Gulf, Afghanistan and Iraq Wars.

Performers include Amber deLaurentis & Tom Cleary, Jon Gailmor, The Magnolias, Colin Clary, Rik Palieri, Hannah Pitkin & Max Bronstein-Partiz of the Limes, and a rare Chittenden County appearance by Vermont's folk singing Senator Dick McCormack.

The concert is a benefit for the Peace & Justice Center's Recruiting for Peace Campaign. Tickets: $20, $15 for age 12 and under. Purchase tickets at the Peace & Justice Center, 863-2345 x2, or the Flynn Box Office.

Reclaiming a gallant voice

By Adrian Walker
Globe Columnist / February 22, 2008

William Worthy reported from Communist China, the Shah's Iran, and Cuba in the early days of Fidel Castro.

He aroused the ire of the State Department by defying travel bans in the 1950s and 1960s and slipping into nations that were off-limits to Americans.

He was the subject of a famous Phil Ochs folk song, "The Ballad of William Worthy" that celebrated his exploits.

And now this journalism legend, born and raised in one of Roxbury's most prominent families, sits nearly forgotten in an assisted-living facility in Hyde Park. At 86, he is in the early stages of Alzheimer's disease.

One of Worthy's fondest memories and professional highlights was his time as a Nieman Fellow at Harvard University, class of 1957. The Nieman Foundation will honor him today with the prestigious Louis M. Lyons Award, named after the program's longtime curator.

"The award is given to a journalist who represents the spirit of conscience and integrity that Louis stood for in his life and career," the current curator, Robert Giles, told me. "We're going to make this a real celebration of Bill's life and career."

The honor is overdue. But it won't do enough to rescue Worthy from his undeserved obscurity.

When I visited recently, he wasn't able to describe his exploits in detail, but many others have been happy to do it for him.

Worthy was a reporter for the Baltimore Afro-American newspaper and a contributor to CBS News beginning shortly after World War II, when blacks were scarce in mass media. An early patron was Edward R. Murrow, the legendary newsman, who encouraged him to pursue a career in radio and then television.

Worthy was always drawn to left-wing causes, and much of his best-known reporting was from Communist-bloc countries.

Worthy combined activism and journalism in a way that would be more difficult today. His political activism began in his early 20s. Worthy refused to fight in World War II, becoming a conscientious objector. "There was no way I could kill another human being," he told me. He was a Freedom Rider in the early days of the civil rights movement and a friend of Malcolm X.

All of this was a departure from the genteel circumstances in which he had been raised. When Worthy entered college, he was expected to follow in the footsteps of his father, a well-known obstetrician. But he discovered that his passion and his talents lay elsewhere.

Worthy's reporting career wound down in the early 1980s. He taught journalism at Boston University, where he clashed with president John R. Silber, and inaugurated a course in media criticism at the University of Massachusetts at Boston. He retired from a post at Howard University a few years ago.

After that, he disappeared from view for a while. Michael Lindsey, who taught the media course with Worthy at UMass and greatly admired him, realized last year that he had lost track of his old friend. He tracked him down at the Park Place center in Hyde Park. He discovered that Worthy's money was gone and that he had fallen on hard times.

How he came to be destitute is, at this point, something of a mystery. An appeal by Councilor Chuck Turner has led to the involvement of the city's Law Department, which is working to save Worthy's family home from creditors. There is a trove of Worthy's papers in the home. Dorothy Joyce, a spokeswoman for Mayor Thomas M. Menino, said yesterday that the city hopes that some of Worthy's papers will be placed at the Boston Public Library.

And today, while he is still able to appreciate the moment, he will be honored by the Nieman Foundation. Even as more recent memories have faded, he talks about his year at Harvard with glee.

With its relentless emphasis on the here and now, journalism doesn't do an especially good job of remembering its history. But William Worthy is part of it, reclaimed just in time.

Adrian Walker is a Globe columnist.

Pekar's 'Students for a Democratic Society' looks at youth and the power to change the world

Sunday, January 13, 2008
The Plain Dealer
Carlo Wolff

In a refreshing sense, this is a book proudly in the comics tradition: It speaks to youth.

It also is, in art-comic form, a history of the Students for a Democratic Society in its first incarnation, 1960-1969, with a few pages at the end about its contemporary revival two generations later.

The issues that the SDS raised -- and this book raises again -- certainly haven't died. Poverty, racism, the alienation of labor, police brutality, the violation of personal freedom and an unpopular war make headlines today.

"Students for a Democratic Society" is a lively work of words, pictures and passion. It examines the leftist student organization from various vantage points, blending personal anecdotes, conventional history and what one might call field reports.

"Written mostly" by Cleveland man-about-the-media Harvey Pekar, illustrated "mostly" by his long-time associate Gary Dumm, and edited by Paul Buhle, founding editor of the SDS journal "Radical America," the book is engrossing and unexpectedly effective.

This trio follows the chronological story of the SDS, then rounds out the picture with separate cameos of radical activity in Chicago; Cleveland; Madison, Wis.; and elsewhere. Pekar has become an acute pop sociologist, and Dumm's dense, neutral art underlines the electricity of the times. Among the notable voices are: Wes Modes, who recounts the fatal shooting of four Kent State University students on May 4, 1970, in a grainy poignancy that recalls the Zapruder film of President Kennedy's assassination; David Roheim, who gives a text-heavy, brilliant "Iowa SDS Story" that sums up the intoxicating highs and crashes of the late 1960s; and Bruce Rubenstein, who writes a thoughtful end piece.

This prismatic and personal approach resonates. A decade dominated by the Vietnam War and the shift from folk to rock music is caught on these pages, as John Pietaro's "I Ain't Marchin' Anymore" caught the spirited, tragically short career of Phil Ochs, an Ohio boy who spent quite a bit of time in Cleveland and made an indelible mark as a protest singer.

It is comforting, although perhaps naive, to imagine an enlightened professor of contemporary history including "Students for a Democratic Society" in his or her syllabus.

The frankness of SDS veterans on their successes and, more importantly, their failures makes a potential handbook for contemporary activists wanting to organize without repeating the mistakes of their predecessors.

"The Weathermen are gone but SDS is back, now as strong as it was in 1966, among students and others in a world that needs it more than ever," Rubenstein reports.

"However different the nation has become in forty years, creativity still arguably blossoms best among youth, those who have the least stake in the existing rules of society," Buhle and Pekar say in the introduction.

Creativity also thrives among '60s survivors like Pekar, Dumm and Buhle, still trying to change the world for the better and still hoping youth takes up the cause.

Wolff is a critic and writer in South Euclid.

Review: History of SDS takes in sex, drugs and radical activism

Charles Solomon
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
San Francisco Chronicle

Students for a Democratic Society
A Graphic History
Written (mostly) by Harvey Pekar; art (mostly) by Gary Dumm; edited by Paul Buhle
HILL & WANG; 214 PAGES; $22

Although its name is seldom evoked today, except in crossword puzzles (" 'student activists' in three letters"), Students for a Democratic Society, or SDS, was considered one of the most radical left-wing organizations of the late '60s and early '70s. Teens who wanted to be taken for members of the counterculture dropped the name; mainstream opponents of the Vietnam War worried that its violent tactics would alienate voters; the mainstream media used those actions to attract audiences; conservatives saw the organization as the vanguard of a communist assault.

Although Harvey Pekar calls SDS "the largest and most powerful New Left organization in the 1960s," this ambitious "graphic history" suggests that the group's reputation exceeded its reality. SDS remained too small, too disorganized and too prone to internal squabbles to become either the savior or the menace it was sometimes perceived to be.

Pekar traces the group's origins to the League for Industrial Democracy, which Upton Sinclair, Jack London and others founded in 1905. SDS was organized in 1960 by Al Haber, who became its first president. The son of a labor arbitrator, Haber established the liberal but anti-communist philosophy of SDS - and its Midwestern roots. As the authors note, much of this story was played out in the American heartland rather than the political and cultural centers of New York, Washington and California.

The initial philosophy of SDS was embodied in the Port Huron Statement of 1962. Principally written by University of Michigan student Tom Hayden, the document called for "a democracy of individual participation governed by two central aims: that the individual share in those social decisions determining the quality and direction of his life; that society be organized to encourage independence in men and provide the media for their common participation. ..." Hayden and folk singer-activist Phil Ochs emerge as the two genuinely admirable figures in the SDS story. Pekar, Gary Dumm and Paul Buhle present many of the other leaders and foes of SDS as weak and/or corrupt.

For the individual stories that accompany the introductory text, the authors placed a notice on the Web in 2005-06, requesting personal histories and photographs. Because the writers were self-selected, many of the stories tend to be smug and sometimes unintentionally funny. Many people joined SDS to fulfill serious political aspirations, usually beginning with opposition to the war, only to see those high-minded aspirations founder in drugs, confusion, disillusionment and personal disagreements. As Pekar notes, the early efforts of students to work in impoverished neighborhoods proved largely unsuccessful and provided "a valuable lesson [...] humbling certain members and disabusing them of some romantic notions they had about the poor."

In "Iowa SDS Story," David Roheim and Pekar write about officials at the University of Iowa in 1968 debating whether SDS qualified as a campus organization. In an almost audibly whiny tone they add, "We HSP ("Hawkeye Student Party") members were hurt. The academic satraps still made no mention of our rally the previous week. We were ignored, not a great experience for active anarchists. We planned to do better as soon as we could."

Dumm's straightforward illustrations match the earnest tone of the narrative, but his limits as a draftsman soon become evident. His stiffly posed figures lack a convincing sense of weight. The drawings contributed through the Web search are amateurish at best.

Although almost 50 years have passed since most of these actions took place, it may be too early to write a definitive history of SDS. Several of the writers assert that the activism they began continues. But the policies and rhetoric of the Bush-Cheney administration, the growing gap between rich and poor, immigration and other divisive issues suggest otherwise.

Rachel Carson, suffragettes, members of the Mattachine Society and many social historians would certainly dispute the assertion that, "A significant chunk of SDSers joined and in some cases actually organized the women's liberation movement, the gay and lesbian movements, the environmental movement, and so on. These causes, still far from won almost a half-century later, had been essentially invisible before the era of SDS."

The most striking feature of "Students for a Democratic Society" may well be its format: It suggests a growing acceptance in the United States that history can be explored seriously through words and pictures. Americans have long dismissed comics as simple-minded amusements: In 1924, critic Gilbert Seldes wrote, "Of all the lively arts the Comic Strip is the most despised, and with the exception of the movies it is the most popular." That Americans are beginning to accept the idea that comics can be a legitimate vehicle for a discussion of socio-political history represents a radical shift in popular culture.

Charles Solomon has written about comic strips and manga for the Los Angeles Times, the New York Times and National Public Radio.