A Shared ConvictionThe tale of love and sacrifice behind an unassuming bench.

The memorial bench in a peaceful spot to the east of the Memorial Union’s main entrance is simple: cast iron, weathered wood. But behind it is a story of a nation in turmoil and a young couple who wanted to change the world.

On April 7, 1964, Oregon State science graduate Bruce Klunder, ’58 — a Presbyterian minister and civil rights activist — joined demonstrators opposing the construction of a Cleveland school intended to prevent Black children and white children from learning together. 

Several protesters threw themselves into a trench to block a bulldozer’s forward progress, and Bruce laid down behind the machine to trap it in place. The driver backed up and Bruce was crushed to death. He was 26 years old.

The young minister Bruce Klunder. Photo courtesy of Janice Klunder

The crowd erupted in fury and grief, knocking out several of the driver’s teeth. Police deployed tear gas as near-riot conditions unfolded. Bruce’s 28-year-old wife Joanne — a 1956 Oregon State education graduate — had taken their toddler and six-year-old to the zoo. She found herself suddenly both a widow and the center of a story covered worldwide. 

Striving to calm a polarized city, she told Cleveland’s The Plain Dealer, “My husband died doing what he believed in, what we both believed in. He died loving everyone. He died hoping what he was doing might bring love of all people for each other.”

A few months later, she would write in Ebony magazine: “Days of soul-searching went into Bruce’s decision to … lay his body in the path of a bulldozer. To him, that bulldozer was a symbol of … majority society bulldozing over oppressed people, often without even a glance to see that a human soul was in the way.”

A bench dedicated to Bruce Klunder sits just outside the main entrance of the Memorial Union on OSU’s campus. Photo by Travis Stanford

Ruled an accident by the courts, Bruce’s death was a pivotal point in the desegregation of Ohio public schools. His name is inscribed on the Civil Rights Memorial in Montgomery, Alabama, alongside the names of Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. and others who lost their lives in the struggle.

Joanne carried their shared convictions forward for the rest of her life as a teacher, mother, community member and advocate for justice and peace. She died March 21 at age 90 in Brunswick, Maine.  

“There’s a tendency to focus on my dad because of his tragic death, but they were in this together 100%,” says their daughter, Janice Klunder. 

When the couple met at Oregon State, they shared a deeply held faith and grew increasingly troubled by racial discrimination. In 1962, they led an integrated group of students through the South, where they met 22-year-old student activist leader John Lewis, later a member of the U.S. House of Representatives. Asked how he avoided hatred after enduring violence during the Freedom Rides, Lewis replied, “Would you hate a blind man for stepping on your foot?” 

Joanne Klunder with her children and Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. Photo courtesy of Janice Klunder

Her mother often described that as a life-changing moment, Janice said, and the message still resonates. “There’s so much hate on all sides. But meeting hatred with hatred gets us nowhere.”

 Now in her late 60s, Janice is struck by how young her parents were when they became committed to a cause they hadn’t known much about before going to college at Oregon State. Then and now, she said, “you’re never too young to believe you can help make the world better.”

To ensure the Klunders’ story isn’t forgotten, two of Bruce’s high school friends and college roommates — the late Bobb McKittrick, ’58, and Mike Doherty, ’58, Ed.D. ’76 — sponsored the memorial bench. “It’s important that all students understand this period,” Doherty said. “It could happen again, when racism raises its head.” Read more about Joanne’s life.