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Some Barry Romo Memories

By Edward Damato

Seeing Jeff Machota's name on my caller ID at 7:30 AM on May 2 told me bad news was coming my way. It was bad news, indeed. My dear friend, fellow veteran, mentor, and all-around dedicated fighter for veterans and for peace and justice was no longer with us in body. I've read obituaries from the Washington Post and the New York Times and seen the wonderful testimonials given at his memorial services in Chicago by friends, including Iraq veterans, about his dedication and the effects he had on their lives served Barry beyond well. I can add some of my memories of him over the fifty-three years I knew him.

In February of 1971, after the Winter Soldier hearings in Detroit, it was obvious that our group, Vietnam Veterans Against the War, was a force waiting to go national. The people in the VVAW office in New York, including Al, Jan, Scott, John, and Joe, organized our first national meeting.

Barry was chosen to be the California Coordinator, and I was chosen to be the New York Coordinator. We hit it off immediately. We were the only ones, maybe 5'8" (everyone else seemed so tall), and maybe with the same sense of humor! The national organization was launched, and our first national action was picked to be in Washington DC, Dewey Canyon III, in April of 1971. We organized our hearts out.

On the first day of Operation Dewey Canyon III, I saw Barry across an expanse of grass at the National Mall. He came running up to me with his arms wide open and grabbed me in a big, welcoming bear hug. What a joy—seeing each other again, this time with all our fellow veterans from VVAW chapters from around the country. And, boy, did those five days turn out to be a historic event. It truly was. Right in our nation's capital, veterans of an ongoing war were protesting against it. One headline read, "Vets Overturn Supreme Court." Wow! Barry and I got to know each other better. His enthusiasm was infectious, a trait he never lost in all the years I knew him.

He was elected to the national office, and I worked with him while he was in New York. Shortly afterward, the national office moved to Chicago. A national meeting was held in Palo Alto, California, which I attended along with four others from my state: Joe, Phil, Rob, and Sue.

On the first night, Barry said he wanted to talk to me. He took me up a hill in the twilight. He warned me not to fall into what he said was the San Andreas Fault. The San Andreas Fault! Me in the San Andreas Fault! I was amazed, thinking that was what he wanted to show me. But it wasn't. He told me he was seriously considering not running for re-election. At first, I was at a loss for words. Then I told him he had to continue in the office. I told him that the nature of the war was changing, and it was vitally important to keep VVAW on course to see an end to the war and what came afterward. I told him I thought there would be a leadership vacuum because everyone respected him so much, and he had an incredible grasp of issues of politics. We talked for a long while, and finally, he agreed that he would run again. I was so relieved and thankful.

Shortly after the Palo Alto meeting, I decided that I would run to be in the national office if nominated. I was elected at the next national meeting. I felt that if I asked him to stay at the job, it would be the least I could do to support and work with Barry along with Brian, Sam, Steve, Marla, Bill, Charley, and later Pete, Rich, and Bill Davis.

We worked our asses off, including writing and publishing our newspaper, Winter Soldier which became The Veteran. During those years, we saw the aftermath of the horrific Christmas bombings in Vietnam, the signing of the peace accords in Paris, the focus on veterans' issues, the wildly delirious euphoria of seeing Nixon turned out of office (on my birthday(!), and the budding battle for amnesty for war resisters. Barry shined during this time. Because he was in Hanoi during the bombings, he also traveled around the country, speaking of what he viewed as his second tour in Vietnam.

I remember we got jobs to help support the office. Before I was drafted, I had worked for Korvettes, a department store chain. I used my boss there as a reference. They hired me on the spot. The next day, Barry went and used me as a reference. He was hired, too. We worked in the hardware department.

In 1978, I moved back to New York, and I didn't see him very much, but I received two calls of note. The first was to tell me he was marrying Alynne and asked me to be his best man. I was so honored I immediately said yes and bought a new suit and shoes. I flew to Chicago and enjoyed the weekend festivities. One of the most memorable things was that I met his wonderful parents, who flew in from California. What lovely people they were. They raised a wonderful son.

The second time he called me was in 1987, asking me to be part of the five-person, first VVAW delegation to go to Vietnam, both Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh City. We flew to Bangkok with Pete Zastrow, Tom Wetzler, Dennis Kroll, Barry, and me to apply for visas since you couldn't apply in the US then. We then flew to Hanoi and spent five days meeting with various Vietnamese officials, touring sites, and walking the streets.

We went to Bach Mai Hospital, where Barry first toured during the Christmas bombings. They remembered him. Needless to say, it was a highlight of our trip. We then flew to Ho Chi Minh City and met more officials, including military officers. We took tours and even took a trip to see fish farms in the Mekong Delta, where I was stationed. At each meeting, Barry introduced us, made statements, and presented gifts we brought. He did everything so expertly, and I believe he did our organization proud. Afterward, we had to fly back to Bangkok, and while there, we discussed how to proceed. We realized that the trip was a cathartic experience for all of us, seeing Vietnam thrive in peace.

I last spoke with Barry for a couple of hours about a year and a half ago. I was devastated to hear of his passing. It leaves a void in me, making it hard to write these words. I know that for many years, when faced with a problem, I would ask myself, "What would Barry do?"

Edward Damato has been a member of VVAW since 1970 and lives in New York.

The Chicago VVAW National Office in 1973: (l-r back row) Rich Bangert, Ed Damato, Barry Romo (l-r front row) Marla Watson, Sam Schorr, Brian Adams.

Barry Romo with Che and his son Kyle, San Bernadino, California, 1974. Photo by Edward Damato.

Ed and Barry on a tank in Vietnam in Cu Chi, 1987.