Abortion Whose Side Are You On?

By JON D. HULL/WICHITA

Before Operation Rescue came to town in mid-July, Linda Barber and her brother Rick Middleton hardly ever talked about abortion. Now they hardly ever talk. Rick, 39, enlisted with the pro-life forces and was twice arrested for trying to shut down one of the city's three abortion clinics. Linda, 35, volunteered to escort the terrified female patients past the demonstrators. "I had no clue she was pro-choice," says Rick. "The relationship in our family is definitely strained." Linda is less polite. "I feel he's in bed with a bunch of criminals," she says. "I can't imagine spending this Christmas together."

Just about every bar, restaurant and dining room table in Wichita has played reluctant host to an impassioned debate on abortion this summer. "It's going to take some time to regain a center of gravity," says Mayor Bob Knight, displaying a 6-in. stack of angry letters on his desk. "The passions and feelings are so deep, and the city of Wichita has been criticized by everybody."

City officials were relieved last week as the number of protesters dropped dramatically, after weekend rallies that drew at least 25,000 pro-lifers and 6,000 pro-choicers from across the country. Though shock troops on both sides are exhausted, following 2,600 arrests and countless screaming matches, tempers remain high. "The lines are drawn in offices and factory plants," says the Rev. George Gardner of College Hill United Methodist Church. Jane Gilchrist, a leading pro-choice activist, complains, "You can't go to the grocery store, church or the barbershop without talking about it."

At a proudly counterculture bar called Kirby's, blatant pro-lifers are likely to be booted from the premises. Elsewhere, pro-choicers face similar hazards. "I've been elbowed, stepped on, spit on and called Satan's mistress," says Marina Clemente, 26, who unwittingly entered a pro-life sandwich shop and found herself "verbally abused" by 20 patrons once she revealed her views. Others have been drawn closer together. "This is about the only thing my mother-in-law and I agree on," says Patricia Beltz, 36, as she waves a pro-choice placard in front of one of the clinics.

Before July 15, most residents were preoccupied with rising property taxes, gang violence and renewed efforts to ban nude dancing. Civic boosters lauded themselves for snaring two Miss U.S.A. pageants in a row. But all the factors that make Wichita a nice place to raise a family -- its manageable size, heartland values and high standards of civility -- also proved irresistible to out-of-state Operation Rescue activists. Though largely pro-choice, Wichita contains all the ingredients for staging a militant morality play on abortion. Says Steve Smith, assistant managing editor of the Wichita Eagle: "We're on the fringes of the Bible Belt; we have a strong evangelical presence, a pro- life Governor and an arguably pro-life mayor." More important, Wichita is home to the Women's Health Care Services clinic, where George Tiller is one of a handful of U.S. physicians known to perform late-term abortions.

Tiller, who wears a bulletproof vest to work and checks his car for bombs every morning, has emerged as a hero to the pro-choice movement, refusing to be intimidated by protesters and death threats. To pro-lifers, he is a modern- ^ day Mengele. Says Paula Winter, a "sidewalk counselor" who tries to dissuade patients from entering the clinic: "He kills 10 to 20 babies a week in his 'abortuary' and then puts them into his incinerator and burns them."

Along the thoroughfare that adjoins Tiller's clinic, a dozen pro-lifers and half as many pro-choicers petition passersby with wrenching pictures and alarming slogans. Commuters honk to register their vote -- or throw cans, bottles and even bags of urine. Says Mayor Knight: "People who in my wildest dreams would never protest -- much less put themselves in a position to be arrested -- have done just that." The abortion debate has a way of inducing indignation even among the timid and indecisive. "I came out of the closet a week ago," says pro-choicer Paul Wilson, 75. "The silent majority is sick and tired of this invasion by outsiders."

The battle lines are riddled with ironies. Pro-lifers, usually from law-and- order backgrounds, rage against police brutality (of which there has been little so far). Pro-choicers, including avowed lefties, complain that the police are going easy on the opposition. Both sides have formed local subgroups of Republicans, Democrats and religious leaders to endorse their cause.

While everybody is claiming victory, Operation Rescue's tactics appear to have backfired. In a poll published Aug. 11 by the Wichita Eagle, nearly 80% of respondents opposed the group's methods. The same number said the protests had no impact on their views on abortion, while 15% said they now felt more inclined to support abortion rights, and less than 8% felt more supportive of abortion restrictions.

Wichita will have an easier time recouping its national reputation than repairing its internal divisions. "I think there are some people so inflamed that they won't cool down for a lifetime," says the Rev. Jack Middleton of Wichita Bible Church. Middleton's own healing process begins at home, as he tries to get his children Linda and Rick back on speaking terms in time for Christmas.