I have to say that the most public drama I experienced in this movement was the day at the Yankee Stadium event on June 1, 1976.
The atmosphere at the stadium was strange from the beginning. Smoke bombs were visible and there was an air of hostility prevailing. After we got seated in our reserved area, the rain began to pour at one point. Everyone from our section fled to shelter in the roofed area above, except me. Because of the heavy atmosphere I doggedly stayed in my seat, refusing to be daunted by even a rainstorm.
One section began singing "You Are My Sunshine" and we all triumphantly joined in. Soon thereafter the rain stopped and the program began. Father came forward to the speaker’s platform to give his usual life giving, life-saving message. Protestors shouted from various places, the smoke bombs continued to go off and generally people were being noisy, as they tend to be at a stadium. In fact, I will always remember my young daughter standing up and shouting loudly, "I have waited a long time to hear this man speak. Now please be quiet, everyone."
When the program ended and we all headed for the exit, we had no idea the drama that awaited us between that exit and our bus which was quite a distance away in the parking lot. Satan was furious that day and was striking out in every direction. As we began our trek toward the parking lot, we watched in horror as a gang of young hoodlums attacked one of our members dressed in his usher’s suit. He doubled over as one of the hoodlums hit him hard in his gut. We could see that others were coming to the rescue so we rushed on our way. We neared an overpass and had to suddenly stop because another group of hoodlums were smashing bottles to the pavement from above and glass was flying everywhere.
I shouted for everyone to stop and keep their heads down. We were quite a few in number. My very verbal daughter shouted up at the hoodlums something like, "God loves you anyway, you freaks!" A man who had hassled me back at the stadium was on the scene again, this time violently grabbing my daughter’s arm and literally screaming at her, "Shut up, girl, you’re going to get us killed!" Whereupon my daughter’s nerves broke and she began to cry rather hysterically. Now my young married neighbor began to wail as well.
I had the sense to know that we would have to outwait the hoodlums above us, so again I told everybody to stand still, not to move. The hoodlums realized what we were doing and decided to move on. Then we made a mad dash on the final stretch to the bus. Needless to say, we were a relieved bunch as we climbed aboard the bus to safety. But the wailing on the part of some adults continued even on the bus and that made me mad. So I gave them a sermon about the times we were living in and that the Savior was again on the Earth, so we had to be brave and overcome even the dangerous times. And I told them what an opportunity it was to be able to experience firsthand just how the disciples of Jesus felt as they hid out in catacombs and went through so much persecution. But I’m afraid my audience didn’t much appreciate my presentation, especially right then.
he final blow of that adventurous 24 hours came from the bus driver. He obviously did not like our group from the beginning and expressed his hostilities by constantly turning on the air conditioner throughout the night ride to make us quite uncomfortable.
From 40 Years in America, pp. 168-69.