The Boulderblog with Amy Brouillette

Space Men, Ward Warriors and Commies

By Amy Brouillette, 4-12-07

Two things of note happened on my way across campus Wednesday: first, I ran into two students in space suits passing out fliers for an upcoming lecture entitled, “Moon Hoax: Why We Did NOT Go to the Moon”; next, and somehow even more befuddling, was a small pro-Ward Churchill rally unfolding in the designated “free speech zone” in the fountain area outside the student center. The group, called STAF (Students for True Academic Freedom), is plugging for the embattled ethnic studies professor’s restatement, resurrecting an issue I apparently imagined had gone away.

I’d just left a panel discussion—"The Press: From Watchdog to Lap Dog"— the first sesson I’d attended at this year’s Conference on World Affairs(CWA), Boulder’s annual week-long intellectual fest that draws politicians, policy makers, academics, writers and musicians from around the world to town to discuss, well, everything imaginable. The conference offers a bewildering smorgasborg of topics with always catchy titles (this year’s funniest: “Atheists Can Do Whatever the Hell They Want”), which over the years I've attempted to attend with earnest, but often failed and somewhat embarrassing, infrequency.

In its 59-year history, CWA has beckoned a host of high-profile participants, including Eleanor Roosevelt, Henry Kissinger and Ted Turner; along with a cast of conference regulars, including film critic Roger Ebert, and the recently (and sadly) passed hell-raiser herself, Texas journalist, Molly Ivins. With a predominantly liberal roster each year, the conference has been criticized as a one-sided, establishment-bashing affair. Years ago, sitting on a bus, I overheard two homeless men talking about the conference and one bellowed from the back: “that conference was started by a Commie.” This made me laugh, hard, and it was not until later that I found out this was, at least partially, true.

CWA was founded by CU sociologist professor Howard Higman, a friend of the labor movement, a radical liberal academic and vocal opponent of McCarthyism. One of the most controversial and embroidered figures in CU’s history, Higman stewarded the conference, through its most tumultuous years, until his death in 1995. Higman was a notorious partier, a “debaucherous drunk,” as a friend of Higman and CWA veteran Richard Brenne told me—a well-known fact that has done little for CWA's relationship with the university. In the 60s and 70s, CWA became, by all accounts, a wildly hedonistic, drunken romp, often chided for its male-dominated exclusivity. Now far tamer (as, alas, are the times) and slightly more gender-balanced, CWA still suffers from a tricky relationship with CU—which is a reluctant host to the event at best—and from a non-existent one with students. The conference is the best thing going that only slim minority CU students ever go to. In part, it’s poor marketing: other than the flags that go up along the walkway leading toward Macky, and all the old hippies trouncing about campus, there’s hardly any notice of the high-minded, high-profile folks who’ll be in our midst.

A notable absence on this year's roster is Ebert, whose battle with cancer forced him to cancel for the first time in 38 years. Ebert's "Cinema Interruptus" panel, in which he discusses a selected film frame by frame, is perhaps CWA’s biggest student draw. This year’s lineup does, however, have some newsworthy heavyweights: the juiciest among them, U.S. Ambassador Joe Wilson, husband of outed-CIA-agent Valerie Plame, followed by Democratic presidential contender, U.S. Sen. Joe Biden of Delaware.

Back to the space men (whose moon-hoax lecture I found out had nothing to do with the conference). As I sat in the “free speech zone,” marveling at these space men mingling with the Ward Warriors mingling with the long-haireds, I thought of Higman, who I imagined, would be quite pleased with the carnivalesque scene taking shape on the UMC quad. So what that these young students, I guessed, could hardly recognize or name a single panelist striding by them: at least they were doing something cool and interesting, making good, creative use of public space. Or at least that's what I told myself when I decided to skip the next panel to hang out with the space men.

Like this story? Get more! Sign up for our free newsletters.