My shooter encounter at the 1984 Minneapolis Aquatennial

On Saturday, July 13th, 2024, as I watched the video coverage of the Butler, PA Trump rally shooting aftermath, there were several live on camera interviews of upset persons complaining that they had pointed out the shooter on that rooftop but the police “didn’t go to get him”. This scenario brought back my memories of another July, almost exactly 40 years ago, and my related PTSD.

It had become a long-running joke, that if you wanted to know where all the mishaps were, during the Minneapolis Aquatennial parade, find out where Tony and Celia were stationed. One year it was at a construction corner with a deep trench and inadequate fencing and people trying to use the sidewalk fell in and we had ambulances and medics dealing with sprained ankles to broken bones, and wounds from falling on parts of what fencing was there. Another year, one of the hottest on record and all the high school bands had only wool uniforms at the end of the parade, we were running all over the place with a radio in one hand, and a wet towel or water bottle in the other, for all the heat exhaustion cases, and calling medics for those who were shaking and red and worse. There were typically some four to to six ambulances by the Red Cross station at the end of the parade. One other year our crew thought the middle would be safest, where there also was a skyway that the handlers of the huge Pillsbury walking doughboy forgot about measuring. They began to deflate him to allow him to bend slightly and go under the skyway but had him deflated a little too much, and the handlers were not well coordinated for this maneuver and the doughboy fell over backward and splayed on the handlers, and a part of the audience on the sidewalk.

However, this was all nothing compared to the Minneapolis Aquatennial parade July, 1984. In mid July, 1984, 21 people had been killed and others wounded in a mass shooting at a McDonald’s near San Diego. In Minneapolis, we had Admiral Vesey, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff as the “Grand Marshall,” or special guest that year for the huge Aquatennial parade. Suddenly at our last pre-planning meeting for the radio coordination in which we were involved, as members of the Minneapolis Radio Club, we were hearing of a deranged young man who told his room-mate he was “going outdo the McDonald’s shooting” at the Aquatennial and disappeared with a van and a lot of known weapons and ammunition. His roommate only could guess where it might happen, but it was felt it would be where crowds were larger and not moving very well. Of course the Admiral and the parade were considered a possibility, and there were a couple of slow spots in the parade. We radio club volunteers were asked the day of the parade by someone from the Secret Service to help be “eyes and ears” and told that agents would be nearby and were to introduce themselves to the two radio operators on each block so we could call anything worrisome or suspicious to their attention.

Tony and I were toward the middle again, that year, near the skyway, and we noticed that there were people gathering to watch the parade on the skyway, and also on a few nearby roof tops that could be and were regularly accessed by workers and spectators. We didn’t see a police presence among them. I dashed to the designated agent and quickly called attention to this, and fortunately the Admiral and his open car were several blocks away. The Secret Service and police responded, on that day, very quickly, and not even two minutes or three later, the skyway and roof tops were being cleared.

Nothing happened and we all breathed a huge sigh of relief at the end of the parade when the Admiral was then whisked away to some indoor event by the Aquatennial Club. However, we still had another day when large crowds were expected and one particular area where there would be both crowds of participants, spectators, emergency personnel and a slowdown. This was the triathlon and the slowdown was where one part of the race changed to swimming and then back to the third part all on one corner. Worse, there were already a couple of boats with police out on the lake, trying to unobtrusively drag the area at the edge of the contest swim area for a drunk young man who had bragged to friends at a party the night before that he could outswim the next day’s contestants and swim across the lake and failed to either make it across the lake or come up–and was last seen right in the vicinity where the swimmers would have to all turn to swim back to shore. There was a buoyed marker line delineating the turn. He, his body, that is, did indeed come up–during the swim part, adding to the pandemonium ensuing at about that same exact time. The white van that was most probably that the would be gunman showed up–on the same corner parked off the street, right across from where I and another person were wearing our bright red “NorTel” t-shirts marking us as radio operators and crowd control helpers for this Aquatennial event. I called another couple of operators nearby before the first group of contestants arrived at the lake–and most of their friends and family as spectators, and we tried to peer into the van but it was too dark and we didn’t think to have flashlights that day. We immediately called the police though. They had flashlights, and while four of their department were still on the lake trying to quietly retrieve one dead body, about a half dozen police cars and a couple of ambulances pulled up on our corner and police watched the van, as it was empty, for the returning owner. As the bicyclists jumped off their bikes and into the water, the owner of the van returned, the dead body popped up–but fortunately the swimmers didn’t notice–and the spectators who weren’t watching the contestants were watching a young man in a t-shirt and cotton pants being surrounded by half a dozen officers, while others had their guns at the ready and we radio operators along with others, yet, were all trying to clear a perimeter–firing range essentially. It was indeed the van. It was loaded with enough guns and ammunition to “equip a platoon” as one officer later said, and this event and the transition point were indeed his targets. The would be shooter later said, he had been walking around picking his targets. His first intended targets were the radio operators wearing the bright red t-shirts. I was to have been his first target since I was one of the two closest..

We got everyone moving out on the third leg of the triathlon, the dead body from the lake had been quickly covered with something or other (I wasn’t close to see what the police used) and hauled into a boat and then taken to a waiting vehicle, and the spectators finally cleared when the police hauled off the young man in cuffs and a police ordered tow-truck hauled off the still gun-laden van, with a police escort. It was only when the corner was nearly completely cleared of everyone, that my husband and a good friend came running up, from another part of the contest route, telling me how relieved they were to see me ok, as radio reports had made their way from end of the event to the other, and God knows where else. They were really upset and at that point it hit me just how much danger I’d really been in, and my knees buckled and my whole body began to shake. Then a radio message came in that they (the heads of the volunteers and the event) wanted me at the Aquatennial club for a thank you as a “heroine.” I don’t remember a lot after getting there beyond the Commodore or whatever he was coming out to shake my hand and saying a few words and then everyone and his brother or sister offering me drinks and food, but especially drinks because, in the words of Tony and friend Doug, I “looked a bit pale and shell-shocked and like I need a stiff drink or two.” I probably did–all of the foregoing. A doctor on the scene finally recommended I be taken home and be given a benadryl as a sleeping aid since I wasn’t inclined to get overly drunk and we all knew eventually the alcohol would wear off. I slept nearly 12 hours, but had nightmares the next night and another benadryl when they started and woke me. That was the last time Tony and I ever volunteered for being part of the radio crew for the Minneapolis Aquatennial. We moved to California about 2 and a half years later. And I kept–and still have–that dreadful bright red NorTel t-shirt to remind me to be more careful in the future about any other volunteering.

As I watched the news today, I realized that nothing has changed in 40 years, or remembering the news of 18 years before that and 20 years, nothing has changed in 60 years. I’m convinced now that there will only be real change and we will work to become more civilized and respectful of one another when it is not so easy to kill so many so quickly and we finally get rid of the obsolete and increasingly dangerous 2nd Amendment.