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Read all about it: The story of the newsies’ two-week strike against publishers Pulitzer, Hearst

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The New York City newsies had formed their own union and gone out on strike against the World and New York Journal.

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Native American Activist Occupied Alcatraz Island

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Native American Activist Occupied Alcatraz Island

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Since the mid-1960s, American Indians had been on a mission to break into Alcatraz. After the famed prison shuttered its doors in 1963, Bay Area Native Americans began lobbying to have the island redeveloped as an Indian cultural center and school. Five Sioux even landed on Alcatraz in March 1964 and tried to seize it under an 1868 treaty that allowed Indians to appropriate surplus federal land.

These early efforts all failed, but reclaiming "the Rock" became a rallying cry for Indians, many of whom viewed the island as a symbol of government indifference toward the Indigenous population.

When an October 1969 fire destroyed San Francisco's American Indian Center, an activist group known as "Indians of All Tribes" set their sights on the unused land at Alcatraz. A handful of protestors first journeyed to the island on November 9, 1969, under the leadership of Mohawk college student Richard Oakes. They only stayed for a night before the authorities removed them, but Oakes stressed that the landing had been a symbolic act. "If a one-day occupation by white men on Indian land years ago established squatter's rights," he told The San Francisco Chronicle, "then the one-day occupation of Alcatraz should establish Indian rights to the island."

Indians of All Tribes made a final attempt to seize Alcatraz in the early morning hours of November 20, 1969-this time with an occupation force of 89 men, women and children. After sailing through San Francisco Bay under cover of darkness, the Indians landed at Alcatraz and claimed the island for all the tribes of North America.

Ignoring warnings that their occupation was illegal, they moved into the old warden's house and guards' quarters and began personalizing the island with graffiti. A message appeared on the water tower reading: "Peace and Freedom. Welcome. Home of the Free Indian Land." Other buildings were tagged with slogans like "Red Power" and " Custer Had It Coming."

The Indians' first official proclamation to the public followed shortly thereafter in a manifesto addressed to "The Great White Father and All His People." In it, the activists stated their intentions to use the island for an Indian school, cultural center and museum. They claimed Alcatraz was theirs "by right of discovery," but they sarcastically offered to buy it for "$24 in glass beads and red cloth"-the same price that Indians supposedly received for the island of Manhattan. The activists added that they didn't mind that the island was underdeveloped or lacked fresh water, since most of them had already endured similar conditions on government Indian reservations.

Wary of the fallout that could accompany an attempt to remove the Indians by force, President Richard Nixon's administration opted to bide its time and leave the occupiers alone as long as they remained peaceful. Government officials later journeyed to the island on multiple occasions to negotiate, but their diplomatic efforts bore little fruit. The activists were adamant that they would settle for nothing less than the deed to Alcatraz Island, while the Government Services Administration and other agencies maintained that a land transfer was impossible.

As the two sides debated, the Indians continued settling into their new home. "We all had things to offer each other," resident Luwana Quitquit later remembered. "Brotherhood. Sisterhood." Native American college students and activists flocked to join the protest, and the population of Alcatraz often swelled to more than 600 people.

A governing council was formed, and the island soon had its own clinic, kitchen, public relations department and even a nursery and grade school for its children. A security force dubbed the "Bureau of Caucasian Affairs" (a riff on the much-hated "Bureau of Indian Affairs") patrolled the shoreline to watch for intruders, and a Sioux named John Trudell hopped behind the mic to broadcast radio updates under the banner of "Radio Free Alcatraz."

Other activists supported the occupation by shuttling supplies and visitors from a mainland base at San Francisco's Pier 40. The Indians issued a call for contributions, and by the end of 1969, canned goods, clothes and thousands of dollars in cash had poured in from donors across the country. Celebrities including Anthony Quinn, Jane Fonda and Merv Griffin all visited the island and lent their support, and the rock band Creedence Clearwater Revival even gave the Indians a boat, which was christened the "Clearwater."

For most of late 1969, the occupation proceeded better than activists like Richard Oakes could have ever imagined. By early 1970, however, life on the island had begun to change. Many of the movement's college students and organizers had to leave Alcatraz to return to school, and they were often replaced by vagrants who cared more about living rent-free than fighting for the protest's original cause. "Our biggest problems are freelance photographers and the hippies," Oakes said at the time. "They stay and eat up our stores, then leave. Then we have to clean up after them." Drugs and alcohol-both originally banned on the island-were soon circulating freely among certain members of the population.

The leadership crisis only worsened after Richard Oakes' young stepdaughter fell to her death from one of the prison's stairwells in January 1970. Oakes and his wife left Alcatraz in the wake of the accident, leaving groups of warring activists to fight it out for control of the island. By May, the government had concluded that there was little hope of resolving the situation diplomatically, and the Nixon administration cut all remaining power to Alcatraz in an effort to force the Indians out. Only a few weeks later, a fire tore across the island and destroyed several of Alcatraz's historic buildings. The Indians claimed the blaze was an accident or perhaps even the work of outside provocateurs, but it still came as a major blow to morale.

Despite increasingly squalid living conditions and flagging outside support, a few holdouts continued to live on the Rock for another year. "I don't want to say Alcatraz is done with," former occupier Adam Fortunate Eagle lamented to The San Francisco Chronicle in April 1971, "but no organized Indian groups are active there. It has turned from an Indian movement to a personality thing." Citing a need to restore Alcatraz's foghorn and lighthouse, government officials finally quashed the occupation on June 11, 1971, when armed federal marshals descended on the island and removed the last of its Indian residents. By then, the occupation force had dwindled to a skeleton crew of only six men, five women and four children.

While the last of protestors were forced to leave the island in defeat, the 19-month occupation had succeeded in galvanizing Indian activists. Indian rights organizations-many of them staffed by Alcatraz veterans-later staged occupations and protests at Plymouth Rock, Mount Rushmore, the Bureau of Indian Affairs and dozens of other sites across the country. Federal officials also started listening to calls for Indian self-determination. Even as the Alcatraz protest was still underway in July 1970, President Richard Nixon had given a speech saying, "The time has come...for a new era in which the Indian future is determined by Indian acts and Indian decisions." The U.S. government later returned millions of acres of ancestral Indian land and passed more than 50 legislative proposals supporting tribal self rule.

Alcatraz opened as a national park in 1973, where graffiti by its Native Americans occupiers can still be seen on several of the complex's buildings. The National Park Service even had some of the slogans preserved or repainted when they restored the island's water tower in 2012. The Rock has also continued to serve as a focal point of Native American social campaigns. A pair of nationwide protest walks in 1978 and 1994 both began at the island, and since 1975, people have met at Alcatraz every November for an "Un-Thanksgiving Day" celebrating Indian culture and activism.

HISTORY Vault: Native American History

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When Native American Activists Occupied Alcatraz Island | HISTORY

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In 1969, a group of rebel activists took over America's most notorious prison for more than 19 months.

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The story of the riots which includes mentions of homeless youth who were involved

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Constant Raids at Gay Bars

The 1960s and preceding decades were not welcoming times for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) Americans. For instance, solicitation of same-sex relations was illegal in New York City.

For such reasons, LGBT individuals flocked to gay bars and clubs, places of refuge where they could express themselves openly and socialize without worry. However, the New York State Liquor Authority penalized and shut down establishments that served alcohol to known or suspected LGBT individuals, arguing that the mere gathering of homosexuals was "disorderly."

Thanks to activists' efforts, these regulations were overturned in 1966, and LGBT patrons could then be served alcohol. But engaging in gay behavior in public (holding hands, kissing or dancing with someone of the same sex) was still illegal, so police harassment of gay bars continued and many bars still operated without liquor licenses-in part because they were owned by the Mafia.

Gay Rights Before Stonewall

The first documented U.S. gay rights organization, The Society for Human Rights (SHR), was founded in 1924 by Henry Gerber, a German immigrant. Police raids forced them to disband in 1925, but not before they had published several issues of their newsletter, "Friendship and Freedom," the country's first gay-interest newsletter. America's first lesbian rights organization, The Daughters of Bilitis, was formed in San Francisco on September 21, 1955.

In 1966, three years before Stonewall, members of The Mattachine Society, an organization dedicated to gay rights, staged a "sip-in" where they openly declared their sexuality at taverns, daring staff to turn them away and suing establishments who did. When The Commission on Human Rights ruled that gay individuals had the right to be served in bars, police raids were temporarily reduced.

The Stonewall Inn

The crime syndicate saw profit in catering to shunned gay clientele, and by the mid-1960s, the Genovese crime family controlled most Greenwich Village gay bars. In 1966, they purchased Stonewall Inn (a "straight" bar and restaurant), cheaply renovated it, and reopened it the next year as a gay bar.

Stonewall Inn was registered as a type of private "bottle bar," which did not require a liquor license because patrons were supposed to bring their own liquor. Club attendees had to sign their names in a book upon entry to maintain the club's false exclusivity. The Genovese family bribed New York's Sixth Police Precinct to ignore the activities occurring within the club.

Without police interference, the crime family could cut costs how they saw fit: The club lacked a fire exit, running water behind the bar to wash glasses, clean toilets that didn't routinely overflow and palatable drinks that weren't watered down beyond recognition. What's more, the Mafia reportedly blackmailed the club's wealthier patrons who wanted to keep their sexuality a secret.

Nonetheless, Stonewall Inn quickly became an important Greenwich Village institution. It was large and relatively cheap to enter. It welcomed drag queens, who received a bitter reception at other gay bars and clubs. It was a nightly home for many runaways and homeless gay youths, who panhandled or shoplifted to afford the entry fee. And it was one of the few-if not the only-gay bar left that allowed dancing.

Raids were still a fact of life, but usually corrupt cops would tip off Mafia-run bars before they occurred, allowing owners to stash the alcohol (sold without a liquor license) and hide other illegal activities. In fact, the NYPD had stormed Stonewall Inn just a few days before the riot-inducing raid.

The Stonewall Riots Begin

When police raided Stonewall Inn on the morning of June 28, it came as a surprise-the bar wasn't tipped off this time.

Armed with a warrant, police officers entered the club, roughed up patrons, and, finding bootlegged alcohol, arrested 13 people, including employees and people violating the state's gender-appropriate clothing statute (female officers would take suspected cross-dressing patrons into the bathroom to check their sex).

Fed up with constant police harassment and social discrimination, angry patrons and neighborhood residents hung around outside of the bar rather than disperse, becoming increasingly agitated as the events unfolded and people were aggressively manhandled. At one point, an officer hit a lesbian over the head as he forced her into the police van- she shouted to onlookers to act, inciting the crowd to begin throw pennies, bottles, cobble stones and other objects at the police.

Within minutes, a full-blown riot involving hundreds of people began. The police, a few prisoners and a Village Voice writer barricaded themselves in the bar, which the mob attempted to set on fire after breaching the barricade repeatedly.

The fire department and a riot squad were eventually able to douse the flames, rescue those inside Stonewall, and disperse the crowd. But the protests, sometimes involving thousands of people, continued in the area for five more days, flaring up at one point after the Village Voice published its account of the riots.

Stonewall's Legacy

Though the Stonewall uprising didn't start the gay rights movement, it was a galvanizing force for LGBT political activism, leading to numerous gay rights organizations, including the Gay Liberation Front, Human Rights Campaign, GLAAD (formerly Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation), and PFLAG (formerly Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays).

On the one-year anniversary of the riots on June 28, 1970, thousands of people marched in the streets of Manhattan from the Stonewall Inn to Central Park in what was then called "Christopher Street Liberation Day," America's first gay pride parade. The parade's official chant was: "Say it loud, gay is proud."

In 2016, then-President Barack Obama designated the site of the riots-Stonewall Inn, Christopher Park, and the surrounding streets and sidewalks-a national monument in recognition of the area's contribution to gay rights.

Photo Gallery

HISTORY Vault

Sources

A History of Gay Rights in America. CBS.
LGBTQ Activism: The Henry Gerber House, Chicago, IL. NPS.gov.

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1969 Stonewall Riots - Origins, Timeline & Leaders

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The Stonewall Riots, also called the Stonewall Uprising, took place on June 28, 1969, in New York City, after police raided the Stonewall Inn, a local gay club. The raid sparked a riot among bar patrons and neighborhood residents as police hauled employees and patrons out of the bar, leading to six days of protests and violent clashes.

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https://www.thedenverchannel.com/newsy/studentled-protests-are-ingrained-in-american-history

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Young men’s protest of unfair draft leads to violence

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July 13, 1863, dawned a miserable hot, muggy morning in New York. Inside a four-story building at 677 Third Ave., military officers were moving ahead with the nation's first draft, authorized by Congress and ordered by the Lincoln administration to fill the depleted ranks on the battlefields. It was the second day of pulling names at random from a hand-cranked drum, and it would lead to the deadliest riots the country has ever seen. In the often glamorized accounts of Civil War lore, this unsavory episode goes mostly unmentioned.

The officers had a quota to fill of 1,500 men who didn't want to go to war. There weren't enough volunteers for the Army to fill the holes left by the thousands killed and the hundreds deserting.

Only the rich could escape, by paying $300.

Aside from this blatant exception, great care was taken to make the process look fair. The names were gathered by assistant provost marshals who had visited homes and factories during the past month looking for eligible white men between the ages of 20 and 45. It was a tough job. Some marshals had been attacked, and almost all had been lied to.

Now those names, written on slips of paper, rolled tightly and secured with rubber bands, were being drawn by a blindfolded clerk from what the New York Herald called the "wheel of misfortune."

View Graphic

Outside, the crowd began to build into the thousands, filling Third Avenue and spreading into the side streets. There were men who had taken a day off work to protest the draft as well as others who didn't like the idea of the federal intervention into their lives. But there was another element, mostly Irish, who constituted 25 percent of the city's population, who took advantage of the draft issue to have a protest. Few had a stake in the draft controversy; the marshals had little success in finding candidates in the tough Five Points neighborhood. The men did, however, have serious gripes about finding jobs and feeling they had to compete with African Americans, who would work for less. The men, as well as women and children who followed along, came armed with paving stones, bricks and iron pipes.

"A ragged, coatless, heterogeneously weaponed army" was how journalist Joel Tyler Headley described them.

Up front, facing off against a thin line of police officers, who stood with their backs against the door, wooden clubs at the ready, were the firefighters of the Black Joke company, one of the city's many volunteer companies. These linebacker-size men loved to brawl as much as put out a fire. Their chief's name had been drawn on the first day of the lottery, and they had come to save him from the Army by destroying the draft machinery and records.

When someone fired a pistol into the air at 10:30 a.m., the mob behind the firefighters starting throwing stones and other missiles through the windows. Then the Black Jokers shoved their way forward, pushing past police and roaring through the doors and into the offices. The mob piled in behind them.

The provost marshal had just enough time to shove the enrollment log into an iron safe, lock it and then run for the back door along with the other draft administrators. The police, hugely outnumbered, followed quickly.

Within minutes, the lottery drum, tables and chairs were smashed. When the safe couldn't be opened, turpentine was poured over it and the room was set ablaze. Soon flames and black billowing smoke could be seen blocks away. The families living on the floors above barely got out alive.

Police Superintendent John Kennedy came along about then. The mob had cut the telegraph lines during the morning, but rumors had reached him and he had come in person to check on things. He was out of uniform and was carrying only a walking stick. He quietly slipped by the mob that was staring at the flames. Since he was not a federal officer and had no interest in enforcing the draft, he expected no trouble. Then someone yelled his name.

Noted author Stephen W. Sears of Landscape Turned Red and Civil War buff Gene Thorp square off over Gen. George B. McClellan's place in history. View Graphic

"The instant he was recognized he was assailed with shouts and execrations, knocked down and terribly beaten," special police officer William Osborn Stoddard would later write. "He was a strong man, of iron courage, and he struggled desperately for his life. Knocked down again and again and mercilessly beaten, he as often regained his feet and fled, pursued by his savage assailants."

The wrath of the mob was now focused on this one man. Caked with mud and blood, he was barely recognizable. As the mob caught him again, he saw a man he knew running up to the scene. Kennedy called out, "John Egan, save my life!"

Kennedy was rescued but was so badly beaten that his own officers didn't recognize him when he was taken by wagon back to headquarters. He survived.

The attack on Kennedy went beyond what the draft protesters had in mind. They backed away from the mob. The draft protest had turned into something else - a revolt against authority and, eventually, a race riot.

At this juncture, the Invalid Corps, 50 men who were recuperating from battlefield injuries, were belatedly arriving at the draft office, having been recruited only that morning to help the police. Lt. Abel Reade, the troop commander, was limping because his foot was maimed at Fredericksburg.

Facing the mob, Reade ordered the people to disperse and was met with a storm of stones and bricks, which knocked some of his men down. The soldiers shot back with blanks and then ball, deterring the crowd only briefly before it rushed the soldiers, clubbing and stabbing them and taking their muskets. The troops fled. Two didn't make it. One soldier was knocked down and kicked to death. Another scrambled up a rock pile, only to be followed by men who stripped him of his uniform, beat him and then heaved his body down the hill.

In the next few hours, the mob, estimated at 5,000 or more, split into smaller groups, attacking stores and plundering them before setting them on fire. Then they gathered outside the Colored Orphan Asylum at 43rd Street and Fifth Avenue, a residence and school for orphaned black children. The institution was founded by white women about 30 years earlier, and about 200 children were living there.

With the mob at the front doors, teachers led the children to safety out the back and took refuge at a local police station. One small girl was left behind and was killed when she was found hiding under her bed. Men and women roamed the place stealing what they could before setting it afire. Outside, men gouged out the bark of large shade trees and ripped out bushes. Others tore down an iron fence. It was as though they were trying to erase any trace of the orphanage.

Two days later, July 13, the Common Council met while the riot continued at full force. It voted to create a $2.5 million fund to pay the $300 get-out-of-the-army fee for any man who could not afford it. But the rioting didn't let up, probably because the draft protesters were no longer part of the action.

For the next two days, the mob rioted around the clock, attacking armories, hotels, stores, newspaper offices and tenement houses. The rich were targeted as well, their homes sacked and burned. Sometimes clothes and jewelry might be taken, but mostly the mob was intent on destroying rather than stealing. Crystal chandeliers, painted portraits and pianos were hacked into little pieces.

The rioters fought with police and Army units returning from Gettysburg.

However, it was black men who suffered the most at their hands. Any black person unfortunate enough to encounter the mob became a target and was chased, beaten and often hanged. On the third day of the riots, newspaper images showed three black men hanging from lamp poles with a jubilant crowd dancing below them.

Accounts of the day say it was Irish women who were the most brutal in these attacks, cutting off fingers and toes as souvenirs or stabbing the men in every part of their bodies. When a man was hanged, they often also set him on fire.

A New York Times editorial said the writer had never witnessed a more disgusting and humiliating sight than the brutal mob in the streets of the city.

When it was over, official records put the number of people killed at 105. More recent research estimates the toll at 500.

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July 13, 1863, dawned a miserable hot, muggy morning in New York. Inside a four-story building at 677 Third Ave., military officers were moving ahead with the nation's first draft, authorized by Congress and ordered by the Lincoln administration to fill the depleted ranks on the battlefields.

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7 Times In History When Students Turned to Activism

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7 Times In History When Students Turned to Activism

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7 Times in History When Students Turned to Activism (Published 2018)

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The survivors of the Parkland, Fla., high school shooting have surprised many with their public activism. But they are hardly the first students to push the adult world for political change.

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Detention awaited some kids who left school to protest gun violence

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Detention awaited some kids who left school to protest gun violence

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How Parkland Students Launched a Protest in 5 Weeks

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How Parkland Students Launched a Protest in 5 Weeks

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A news article and video on the students

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How the Parkland students pulled off a massive national protest in only 5 weeks | CNN

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The students of Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School led a historic march for gun control, what they called a March for Our Lives. Here's how they went from experiencing a mass tragedy to launching a mass movement.

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The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Workers Protest

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The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Workers Protest

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Before the fire, the workers fought for their rights

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Database Narrative

The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory is best known for the unique fashion blouse they produced and the horrific fire that killed 146 workers, women who might have lived if the owners had been forced to ensure safety standards in the factory. Historically, the 1911 tragedy defined the Triangle workers as the victims of disaster.

The following is the untold story about those women, not as victims, but as the victors of increased wages and better working conditions and their assertiveness in rising up to demand a change in their conditions. This is the story of women, against enormous odds, forcing the Triangle owners to make concessions to their demands for justice.

Working conditions in the early twentieth century were not very safe for many factory workers. In June of 1909, a fire prevention specialist sent a letter to the owners of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory to discuss ways to improve safety in the factory. This letter was ignored.

The work day at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory was 14 hours long with only one break throughout the day. Extra bathroom breaks were often denied forcing people to urinate on the factory room floor adding to the already unsanitary work space. Poor ventilation and locked factory room doors were common. Heaping piles of fabric scraps littered the factory room floors. The workers were paid two dollars a day, were docked pay for their errors and for the needles and thread they consumed. Sometimes, they were docked more than they were paid.

At the end of September 1909, with the backing of Local 25 of the International Ladies Garment Workers Union (ILGWU) the Triangle Shirtwaist factory workers went on strike seeking increased wages, reduced working hours and union representation.

Conditions were no better at other factories. Unrest was infiltrating throughout the women's garment workers industry. Something big was about to happen. On November 22, 1909, activist Clara Limlich spoke out at a union meeting that they must do something.

"I have listened to all the speakers, and I have no further patience for talk. I am a working girl, one of those striking against intolerable conditions. I am tired of listening to speakers who talk in generalities. What we are here for is to decide whether or not to strike. I make a motion that we go out in a general strike."

As most women's garment workers faced these desperate times, Limlich's call for action against these repressive conditions resulted in a vote to strike. On November 24, 1909, in the largest single work stoppage in the US up to that time, twenty thousand workers walked off the job in an industry-wide strike joining the already striking Triangle workers. They sought better wages, standardized work day, improved working conditions, and union representation.

At first, people paid little attention, and the press barely made mention of the strike in their newspapers. Until in December 1909 Ann Morgan, daughter of international financier JP Morgan, took up the cause of the striking workers. Joining her in support of the workers was Alva Vanderbuilt Belmont. With the voices of these rich, upper class women, also known as the mink brigade, by the middle of December the media picked up on the story of the horrible working conditions. Within forty-eight hours, smaller businesses capitulated and workers began to return to union only workshops.

Not so at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory housed in the Asch Building in Greenwich Village. Owners Max Blanck and Isaac Harris were angered and indignant. They attempted to stymie the workers by hiring prostitutes to fight with the women on the picket lines. Blanck and Harris hired ex-prize fighters to pick fights with the picketers. Bribed policemen arrested any who fought back and dragged them off to court bandaged and bloodied. Bribed judges found workers guilty.

Blanck and Harris formed an association of the factory owners. By December 1909, they engaged in negotiations with the strikers offering increases in wages, and improvements in working conditions but stopped short of agreeing to allow the unions to organize in the factories.

Workers refused and the strike continued. Slowly one by one, individual factory owners agreed to the demands of the workers including union representation. But at Triangle, Harris and Blanck would not allow the union to be formed in their organization. Five months after they they began their strike, 23 February 1910, Triangle workers decided to accept increased wages and better hours. They did not get the much coveted union representation.

The success of this strike marked an important milestone for the development and growth of unions, in particular for unions of the ladies garment industries. This was the first successful uprising of workers in an action that demanded change and justice.

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Triangle Shirtwaist Factory women strike, win better wages and hours, New York, 1909

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Database Narrative The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory is best known for the unique fashion blouse they produced and the horrific fire that killed 146 workers, women who might have lived if the owners had been forced to ensure safety standards in the factory. Historically, the 1911 tragedy defined the Triangle workers as the victims of disaster.

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U.S. restaurants and food stores close to support immigrant protest

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U.S. restaurants and food stores close to support immigrant protest

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Parkland Students Protest Again After Staff Members Re-assigned

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Parkland Students Protest Again After Staff Members Re-assigned

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PARKLAND - Students and teachers staged separate protests at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High on Tuesday in a show of support for four staff members reassigned as a result of the Valentine's Day shooting that left 17 dead.

Sixty or so teachers stood together in protest at 7:15 a.m., before the start of school.

More than three hours later, nearly 300 students walked out of the Parkland school after a bell rang about 10:45 a.m. Some chanted, "We want them back!" as they walked to a nearby park.

"The school is hurting and we need to get back to the healing part," said Eric Garner, the school's broadcasting teacher. "This is kind of a step backwards."

But Andrew Pollack, whose daughter Meadow was killed in the shooting, said it was time to hold school staff accountable for the mistakes made that day.

"They let [Nikolas] Cruz walk in right through the open gates," he said. "Nobody called the Code Red [alerting everyone that an active shooter was on campus]. Now there needs to be accountability for that. There's going to be more consequences for the people who failed the 17 that day."

On Monday, four staff members were reassigned in connection with the deadly shooting: Security Specialist Kelvin Greenleaf and Assistant Principals Jeff Morford, Winfred Porter Jr. and Denise Reed.

The moves came after Superintendent Robert Runcie promised a state commission investigating the shooting that he planned to take disciplinary action against some school employees.

Runcie said Tuesday he plans to have an independent agency conduct the review of the employees, although he wouldn't say who might do it.

He also wouldn't rule out Principal Ty Thompson being investigated or moved.

"We will continue to review additional information we receive from the [MSD] commission," Runcie said. "We'll continue to do investigative work around this."

The district has brought in four assistant principals from other schools to fill in at Stoneman Douglas during the investigation.

Anna Fusco, president of Broward Teachers Union, defended the teachers for standing up for their administrators.

"They are showing that they believe in their school," she said. "A person bought a gun and shot up a school. All of our hearts go out to every family who had someone taken. At the end of the day, the person who should be held accountable for killing 17 people is Nikolas Cruz."

The reassignment of those four staffers has more to do with political pressure than justice, Fusco said.

"People are screaming for them to take the fall," she said. "But that doesn't mean it's right."

Three administrators and a security staff member at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High have been reassigned in relation to February's mass shooting.

After getting news of the reassignments, teachers at Stoneman Douglas released a statement Monday asking for support from the community in urging Runcie to reconsider his decision.

"Though we recognize that this is typical procedure, there is nothing typical about what occurred at our school," the statement said. "Removing an integral part of our administrative staff disrupts not only daily operations but the well-being of students and staff. This action does more to hurt the healing and continued education of our students."

Pollack said he had only disdain for the teachers who protested on Tuesday.

"The teachers are a disgrace to be out there protesting," he said from outside the school. "These teachers, by protesting, set a terrible example for our youth. These kids ... are going to follow what their teachers did."

Parent Lisa Goel says she told her daughter to skip the walkout, so she stayed in class. Goel said she hopes the teachers can stay focused on their students despite the turmoil.

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"They need to be there for our kids," Goel said. "These kids have been traumatized enough."

Garner said he does not envision the teachers staging any more protests.

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"We know this needs to be investigated," he said of the school's handling of the shooting. "But it really comes down to how is the process implemented and how will it affect the student body and the teachers that are here."

Pollack says he believes the reassignments are just the beginning.

"Eventually they'll be fired for what they didn't do that allowed these 17 people to get murdered, and one of them's my daughter," he said. "There needs to be accountability when you don't do your job and people get murdered."

Staff writer Scott Travis contributed to this report.

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Stoneman Douglas stages protest after 4 staff members are reassigned

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PARKLAND - Students and teachers staged separate protests at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High on Tuesday in a show of support for four staff members reassigned as a result of the Valentine's Day shooting that left 17 dead. Sixty or so teachers stood together in protest at 7:15 a.m., before the start of school.

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The 1977 disability rights protest thatbroke records and changed laws

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The 1977 disability rights protest thatbroke records and changed laws

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The Youth at That Launched the Movement at Standing Rock

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The Youth at That Launched the Movement at Standing Rock

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A New York Time Article on Standing Rock Protest

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The Youth Group That Launched a Movement at Standing Rock (Published 2017)

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In the fight over the Dakota Access Pipeline, Native American activists achieved one of the most galvanizing environmental victories in years — and it all began with a group of teenagers.

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Youth at the Heart of Standing Rock Protest

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Youth at the Heart of Standing Rock Protest

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News report

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The Seventh Generation: Youth at the Heart of the Standing Rock Protests | ABC News