Antiwar Protests Commence in Washington

Book lovers were told to go to the nearby white tent; antiwar demonstrators were told to head to the Washington Monument grounds.

That posed a problem for Martin Freed and his wife, Ruta Vaskys, from Fairbanks, Alaska, who are book lovers and antiwar protesters. In route to the rally, they stopped at the "Pavilion of States" tent to check out authors at the Alaska table.

Freed carried a protest sign. On one side it read, "Alaskans Against War." On the other side, it read "The War is 100 percent Bush-[expletive]."

He was immediately surrounded by the book lovers group, including a security guard.

"I object to your sign," said one. "You can't have a sign here," said another. "Why don't you go outside?"

A woman announced, "You're crashing the wrong party."

Vaskys resisted leaving. "The war is a lot more offensive than the sign," she said. But the couple eventually left, with Freed calling over his shoulder: "This is the state the country has come to -- you can't even have free speech at a book festival. In the early afternoon, a convoy of about 200 motorcyclists made a full lap around the outer loop of the Beltway to show support for troops in Iraq and Afghanistan.

The ride, first organized in April by John "Big John" Oppido of Marbury, Md., was not politically motivated or planned to coincide with the protest. The event raised more than $17,000 dollars in donations, registration fees, and t-shirt sales to purchase care packages filled with international phone cards, disposable cameras and other supplies through Operation USO Care Package. Some 12 motorcycle clubs took part, some traveling from as far as Florida and Texas, Oppido said.

Earlier, at Freedom Plaza, near 13th Street and Pennsylvania Avenue in downtown Washington, dozens of charter buses were disgorging protests, among them Sister Maureen Metty, 66.

Metty stepped off a bus from Kalamazoo, Mich., at 8 a.m., arriving for what she said was her first-ever political rally. She carried a sitting stool, a backpack loaded with snacks, a toothbrush and toothpaste and a message from her fellow nuns -- a sign that said "Sisters of St. Joseph's for Peace."

"There were 250 sisters who wanted to be here today, but I'm the one they chose to send," she said. "I believe I'm supposed to be here today. This war is not right."

A bus from Lancaster, Pa., brought an eclectic crowd -- gray-haired men in shorts and black socks, grannies with needle-point purses and a young man with facial piercings and aqua hair. Ginny DiIlio, who is in her late 50s, wore a red-white-and-blue shirt that said "Patriots for Peace."

"I was marching in '68, and I'm back today," she said.

DiIlio was with her husband, George, who said he was new to the protest scene. "She corrupted me," he said.

Washington Post Staff Writers Karlyn Barker, Jo Becker, David Nakamura and Michael Tunison and the Associated Press contributed to this report.