The day broke mild and clear. Early April in Boston could bring slicing winds and numbing cold, but on Monday morning, April 5, spring had laid claim. Students in South Boston and Charlestown, never ones to overdress even in the depths of winter, ventured out in light jackets and windbreakers, and some even in shirtsleeves. The previous Friday, fliers had appeared all over the high schools calling for a Monday boycott of classes to rally against busing at City Hall Plaza and the Federal Building. This had become a familiar drill for many of the teens. Ever since Federal Judge Arthur Garrity had ruled in June 1974 that Boston had deliberately maintained segregated schools, and ordered a program of busing to promote desegregation, boycotts, protests, and violence afflicted the schools and the city.

Some two hundred white students assembled for the march to City Hall Plaza. They attended for every reason, and for no reason at all: they despised forced busing, they hated blacks, they feared change, they followed their parents’ lead, they welcomed days off from school, they wanted to hang out with their friends, they felt like they were part of a group. “We all wanted to belong to something big,” recalls one teenage protester, “and the feeling of being part of the anti-busing movement along with the rest of Southie had been the best feeling in the world.” Southie meant more than just the geographic place South Boston. It meant neighborhood and community and ethnic pride. Thinking of the long day ahead, some packed a snack. Some made signs that said “RESIST.” One student, before leaving his third-floor South Boston apartment, grabbed the family’s American flag.

From the start, the anti-busing movement identified itself with patriotism. The activists saw themselves as defending their liberty against the tyranny of a judge run amok. The celebration of Bicentennial events in 1975 and 1976 only reinforced the idea that they were carrying on in a tradition of American resistance; one anti-busing group had as its motto “Don’t tread on me.” At rallies and boycotts, protesters carried American flags and frequently sang “God Bless America.” Protesters against the Vietnam War had often burned Old Glory, but not here, not among the mainly working-class Irish of Boston.

Some adults accompanied the students on the march. Part organizers, part chaperones, they kept the group moving and looked to help avoid any trouble. One of the leaders was Jim Kelly, a South Boston spokesman since the conflict began and president of the South Boston Information Center. Kelly had graduated from South Boston High School in 1958, where he played football and learned a trade. He became a sheet metal worker, putting in long hours and raising a family in South Boston. Kelly was a working-class kid. “My father didn’t make much money,” he said. “We were renters all our lives. I understand what it’s like to live week to week.”