The Freeman 1972 - The Ludwig von Mises Institute

678 THE FREEMAN Novemberwater. The other side of the streetdropped off in a. gra.ssy meadow tothe shore.After 1'd driven about threeblocks the street was completelyblocked with a huge iron gate. Asign pointed to a parking lot; Ifound a place to park my car, and'walked back toa small building atthe gate.A large, muscular guard, dressedin an olive-colored uniform askedme who I wanted to see."L,amar Knighton," I said.He shuffled through some filesin a cabinet and asked for someidentification. I showed my driver'slicense, and he asked me tosign in ona large register book.A buzzer unlocked the door and Iwalked about 100 yards to anothersmall building. Here I was askedto empty my pockets into a trayon a counter and step through ametal-detector gate.My next stop was a waitingroom where I was told I might sitto wait while Lamar was locatedand paged. In about thirty minutesa voice sounded over thespeaker system, "Knighton visitor."A man nodded toward a door.I walked up two steps andthrough the door into a largeroom. There I saw several rows oflong tables running the· length ofthe room with people sitting oneach side. On one side sat men,women, and children. On the otherside sat only men dressed in bluejeansand blue shirts.A voice said, "Mr. Johnson1" Isaw a handsome man about 35years old who introduced himselfto me. "I'm Lamar Knighton," hesaid. "Glad to see you, neighbor."1 said, "Wen, I'm glad to seeyou finally. I had to go through alot of red tape, but here I am."We started talking and I learnedthat Lamar was a native of Texas,had once been a meatcutter, hadserved a hitch in the Army, andwas now operating the linotypemachine in the newspaper office.We started talking about libertyand Lamar told me of his specialinterest in the subject and how hespends most of his spare timewriting essays which he sends toanyone who will read them.What Is Liberty?I had to attend to some businessin San Francisco, but promised towrite and to come back for othervisits. I signed out and walked tothe parking area. The gulls werestill tracing lazy· freedom circlesin the breeze. A few sailboatsdotted the Bay. The wind whistledthrough the tall pine trees on thepoint. "What is liberty?" I askedmyself as I looked back at a stonetower manned with armed guardswho would shoot to kill any unauthorizedperson who attemptedto escape from that managed 80-