Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Spitboaters Against the Truth

Spitboaters Against the Truth

http://www.philadelphiaweekly.com/articles/15724

Have you licked your troop today?

by Steven Wells
Oct 31-Nov 5, 2007

During the Vietnam War returning troops were spat on­spat on, I tell
you­by filthy, disgusting hippie antiwar protesters. This disgusting
spitting (on troops, by hippies) happened so often that it entered
folklore and was enshrined in the American consciousness by films
like First Blood and Hamburger Hill. And it's regularly dusted off
and wheeled out by right-wing talk radio chickenhawks as further
proof that pacifists are worse than Nazis.

This is a terrible burden for today's antiwar movement. But I have
the solution: Modern-day peaceniks should greet troops returning from
Iraq by symbolically licking the spit off them. And instead of
marching on Washington to shout abuse at the commander in chief (who
is, after all, a symbolic Super Troop), we should line up to
symbolically lick the symbolic spit off his fake symbolic cowboy boots.

Hell, while we're at it, maybe we should rethink this whole "antiwar"
thing. We should accept the argument made by the president and his
choir of house-trained right-wing howler monkeys that it's impossible
to support the troops and not support whatever illogical, unjustified
and illegal war the president feels like starting.

In which case, as we all desperately want to be seen as supporting
the troops, let's call for more wars, longer wars and bigger wars.
Because we just love our troops so much.

My god, that mass spitting (on troops, by hippies) must have been
horrible. All those thousands of verminous traitors coughing up
gallons of drug-clogged snot onto the troops must have made
horrifying news footage.

So isn't it odd that none exists? Or that the documentary evidence
for any demonstrator even breathing moistly in the general direction
of a troop is so thin that sociology professor Jerry Lembcke­himself
a Vietnam vet­wrote a book about it called The Spitting Image?

The reason being, of course, that the spitting almost certainly never
happened. And one of the reasons it never happened was that the
antiwar activists who stopped the Vietnam War weren't beamed down
from Planet Hippie. As we saw in the recently released documentary
Sir! No Sir!, the dudes who stopped the war were America's Marines,
soldiers and Air Force themselves, by refusing to fight and by
swelling the ranks of the antiwar movement. And despite the claims of
right-wing "spitboat" vets who've since come forward to claim they
were personally spit on, comrades don't tend to spit on comrades.

In which case perhaps we'd better shelve the troop-licking idea and
demand (as politely as possible) that all the troops are brought home. Now.

.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Glassworks: An old friend honoured

[2 articles]

Glassworks: An old friend honoured

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/arts/main.jhtml?xml=/arts/2007/10/24/bmglass124.xml

24/10/2007

Adam Sweeting reviews Glassworks, LSO St Luke's at the Barbican

Unlike his complex collaboration with Leonard Cohen on Book of
Longing last week, Philip Glass's performance with Patti Smith as
part of the Barbican's Glassworks festival was an ad hoc soirée among
friends. It was subtitled "The Poet Speaks", though it wasn't clear
whether that meant Smith (who did almost all the talking) or Allen
Ginsberg, in whose honour the pair had devised the show.

Smith was in charge. In her familiar jeans, white shirt and black
jacket, she strolled to the microphone, waved affectionately to the
audience like a school mom who'd come to collect her kids, and
launched into her own poem, Notes to the Future.


Behind her, Glass hunched over the piano and tinkled out some
impressionistic accompaniment. "Now my children/ You must overturn
the tables/ Deliver the future from material rule," Smith declaimed.
Then she filled in a little background about how she and Glass had
been close friends of Ginsberg, whose spirit, she claimed, she could
still feel as a hovering presence.

The only Glass pieces on offer were a couple of piano études and a
slightly faulty version of Night on the Balcony, but Smith whirled
through a feisty selection of poems and songs, and brought out
guitarist Lenny Kaye for Beneath the Southern Cross and Ghost Dance.

She threw in some great anecdotes, too, especially one about the
absurd scenes in Ginsberg's New York loft as friends gathered around
his deathbed.

The climactic event of the Glassworks weekend was a complete
performance of the composer's vast Music in 12 Parts. Composed in the
early '70s, the piece is an encyclopaedic survey of the repetitive
composing techniques Glass had been developing since the '60s. The
title originally referred to one piece comprising 12 musical parts,
but it evolved into 12 complete sections sprawled across four hours
(not counting intermissions).

One expert described the opening part as "the most soulful music
Glass ever wrote", but you'd have to be a bearded, bandana-wearing
Glass-head to see it that way. What seemed most striking was its aura
of intellectual and mathematical abstraction.

There were episodes of drama and sudden mood-shift, perhaps an
eruption of Bach-like cathedral organ or a sunburst of major-chord
optimism. But, for all the formidable technical control of Glass's
ensemble, I kept wondering why they didn't just programme it all into
a computer.

--------

Raise your glass to a modern master

http://observer.guardian.co.uk/review/story/0,,2200405,00.html

Philip Glass celebrates his 70th birthday with a little help from his friends

Killian Fox
Sunday October 28, 2007
The Observer

Philip Glass and Patti Smith: The Poet Speaks
LSO St Luke's, London EC1

Book of Longing
Barbican, London EC2

His birthday fell in January, but Philip Glass is still getting
excellent mileage out of hitting 70. Last weekend, the Barbican
hosted Glassworks - special events to aid the prolific composer in
his celebrations. He has always relished working with artists from
different disciplines, and on Friday, Patti Smith joined Glass at St
Luke's Church to channel the spirit of Allen Ginsberg, to whom both were close.

On Saturday, Glass performed a new work at the Barbican based on the
words and images of Leonard Cohen, entitled Book of Longing after the
songwriter's recent poetry collection. We only heard, at intervals, a
recording of Cohen's tar-stained voice, but, unlike Ginsberg, he was
in the audience and could join his fellow septuagenarian on stage at
the end. The weekend was completed by a Sunday performance of Glass's
seminal (and extensive) Music in 12 Parts

Friday evening's event was the least formal: it climaxed with Smith
spitting on the floor as she uttered the final word of Ginsberg's
wonderfully exuberant 'Magic Psalm'. (She mopped up the expectoration
with her sleeve.) Glass's piano lapped beneath the words rather than
drowning them out, although his repeating, shifting melodies
intensified beautifully during the more animated readings.

The evening's most arresting moment was Smith's performance of 'On
the Cremation of Chogyam Thungpa, Vidyadhara', written by Ginsberg to
mark the death of his Buddhist mentor in 1987. Of Ginsberg's own
passing 10 years later, Smith recalled going with Glass to the poet's
East Village loft and seeing Tibetan monks chanting by his deathbed,
to the bemusement of Ginsberg's relatives.

Book of Longing, which premiered in Toronto last June, was a more
studied affair, its sombre air leavened by the wry humour that
peppers Cohen's dark verses and by Glass breathing light into each
one. He has taken 22 poems and developed a sort of minimalist cabaret
around them. Four singers (soprano, mezzo, baritone and tenor) acted
out roles as they sang: sitting and standing, confronting each other
and turning away, walking on and off stage. Glass has likened the
project to dipping in and out of a poetry book at random, but as
theatre it didn't really work.

The music, for the most part, worked very well. Glass writes film
soundtracks and his melodies complemented and heightened the rhythms
of Cohen's words. The baroque scoring of 'Puppet Time', with its
crashing drums, falsettos and swirling keyboards, sounded as if it
had been dredged from the deepest recesses of the Eighties. It
bordered on absurdity, contrasting with the dark horror of the words:
'German puppets/ burnt the Jews/ Jewish puppets/ did not choose', but
somehow the effect was powerful and disturbing.

Glass held back throughout, giving prominence to the other musicians
and at times the short solo pieces for oboe, violin, saxophone, cello
and double bass came as a relief, as did Cohen's prerecorded
micro-poems which punctuated the 90 minutes to often humorous effect:
'You go your way/ I'll go your way too'.

.

Hendrix Experience rides again

[4 articles]

Jimi Hendrix Experience hits London

http://www.channel4.com/music/musicnews/jimi-hendrix-monterey-anniversary-006.html

24/10/2007

Remaining musicians from Jimi Hendrix's bands are celebrating 40
years since the late guitarist's debut at the Monterey Pop Festival
by playing a show in London.

Surviving Hendrix collaborators Mitch Mitchell, drums, and Billy Cox,
bass, will perform alongside guitarist Gary Moore, Primal Scream
drummer Darrin Mooney and bassist Dave Bronze, this Thursday October
25 at the London Hippodrome for the tribute concert, which will also
include a screening of a new Jimi Hendrix DVD.

The live DVD, 'Jimmy Hendrix Live at Monterey (The Definitive
Edition)', will be released on Monday 29 and features performances of
'Hey Joe', 'Purple Haze' and 'Like A Rolling Stone' from the 1967
summer pop concert.

Look out for our interview with Hendrix band members Mitch Mitchell
and Billy Cox coming soon.

Tickets are available for the screening and tribute concert here.
http://www.hendrixatmonterey.com/

--------

Hendrix Experience rides again

http://www.soundgenerator.com/viewArticle.cfm?ArticleID=18177

The original band come together in London

Oct 26 2007

The Hendrix Experience, Jimi Hendrix's famed band, reunited yesterday
night in London to celebrate the 40th anniversary of his famed
appearance at the Monterey Pop Festival.

All three of the original members - guitarist Gary Moore, drummer
Mitch Mitchell and bassist Billy Cox - hit the stage for a special
one-off show at London's Hippodrome, joined by Primal Scream drummer
Darrin Mooney and Dave Bronze.

Kicking off at 9pm sharp, the concert followed the screening of the
Jimi Hendrix Monterey footage - which had kept fans amused for much
of the evening. The Monterey festival show has been described by many
as the greatest gig of all time and shot Hendrix to international
fame as he played guitar with his teeth, set fire to his famous
Stratacaster and smashed up the stage.

The all-star Hendrix tribute concert saw Hendrix's fellow musicians
blast through some of his biggest hits, as well as draw on some of
their famed extended jam pieces.

--------

Fans to relive Hendrix experience

http://www.channel4.com/news/articles/arts_entertainment/fans+to+relive+hendrix+experience/959452

25 Oct 2007

The music of legendary guitarist Jimi Hendrix is set to be
resurrected by the surviving members of the late musician's band.

The London gig, later on Thursday, has been organised to celebrate
the 40th anniversary of Hendrix's infamous US debut at the Monterey
Pop Festival in 1967.

Guitarist Gary Moore will lead the Jimi Hendrix Experience with
surviving members Mitch Mitchell on drums and Billy Cox on bass. The
line up will be completed by Primal Scream drummer Darrin Mooney and
Dave Bronze.

And Hendrix fans will have the opportunity to take the experience
home with them with the release of a new DVD which features
remastered footage of the concert.

The film also features Hendrix's famous rock antics including playing
with his teeth, setting his guitar on fire and smashing up his set.

Hendrix was considered by many as the greatest and most influential
guitarist in rock music history.

And it was his performance at the Monterey Festival that launched the
songwriter on to the world stage in what has been described as the
greatest gig of all time.

--------

THIN LIZZY'S GARY MOORE LEADS THE HENDRIX EXPERIENCE TRIBUTE

http://www.uncut.co.uk/news/jimi_hendrix/news/10537

Jimi Hendrix Supergroup of musicians celebrate 40 years since
Monterey Pop Festival

Former Thin Lizzy guitarist Gary Moore led an all-star tribute to The
Jimi Hendrix Experience at a special 40th anniversary Monterey DVD
launch in London's West End last night (October 25).

Celebrating 40 years since The Jimi Hendrix Experience first played
the Monterey International Pop Festival, the revolving tribute band
at The Hippodrome included two former Experience members; drummer
Mitch Mitchell and bassist Billy Cox as well as Primal Scream's
drummer Darrin Mooney and Dave Bronze on bass.

Left-handed guitarist Gary Moore kicked off the concert with the
classic 'Purple Haze' backed by Mooney and Bronze. That combination
powered through seven tracks including 'Foxy Lady' and 'Angel'.

After 'Fire', Mooney and Broze left the stage to make way for Mitch
Mitchell and Billy Cox (pictured above) to come on and play three
tracks - including an amazing 'Hey Joe'. The pair were originally
part of the original Band Of Gypsys Woodstock festival line-up.

Bronze and Mooney then returned to jam with Moore for a blistering
fifteen minute 'Voodoo Chile'.

The special launch evening had started with an introduction by former
NME writer Keith Altham telling anecdotes about his experience of the
Monterey International Pop Festival and a screening of the film to
the packed house.

'Jimi Hendrix Live at Monterey: The Definitive Edition' celebrating
the 40th anniversary of Hendrix's debut at the legendary Monterey Pop
Festival is released next Monday (October 29).

Last night's full set list was:

(Gary Moore/Darrin Mooney/Dave Bronze)

Purple Haze
Manic Depression
Foxy Lady
The Wind Cries Mary
I Don't Live Today
Angel
Fire

(Gary Moore/Mitch Mitchell/Billy Cox)

Red House
Stone Free
Hey Joe

(Gary Moore/Darrin Mooney/Dave Bronze

Voodoo Chile (Slight Return)

The original Monterey International Pop Festival set list was:

18th June, 1967

Killing Floor
Foxy Lady
Like a Rolling Stone
Rock Me Baby
Hey Joe
Can You See Me
The Wind Cries Mary
Purple Haze
Wild Thing

Check out the official Jimi Hendrix website here:www.jimihendrix.com

For more details about the film, check out:www.hendrixatmonterey.com

.

Jimi Hendrix, Bob Dylan DVDs are vivid reminders of the power of rock

Jimi Hendrix, Bob Dylan DVDs are vivid reminders of the power of rock

http://www.kansascity.com/entertainment/music/story/331022.html

Oct. 25, 2007
By ROBERT HILBURN
Los Angeles Times

There haven't been that many nights in rock 'n' roll when you could
say after a performance that music will probably never be the same
again, but two marvelous new DVDs let us revisit two such evenings.

"The Other Side of the Mirror: Bob Dylan Live at the Newport Folk
Festival 1963-1965," which will be released Tuesday, takes us back to
the night in 1965 when Dylan outraged folk purists at Newport by
going "electric" with a rock 'n' roll band.

Similarly, "The Jimi Hendrix Experience Live at Monterey" shows the
largely unknown guitarist captivating the crowd at the Monterey
International Pop Festival in 1967 with equal parts charisma and virtuosity.

Together, Dylan, through the power and majesty of his words, and
Hendrix, chiefly with his guitar wizardry, lifted rock 'n' roll to a
more artful and ambitious level.

Dylan was only 22 when he made his first Newport appearance, and he
looked even younger as he was joined by Joan Baez on "With God on Our
Side" during an afternoon workshop at the festival.

By the time he returned to Newport the following year, Dylan was the
darling of folk music, and he looked far more confident and polished.
Johnny Cash even slipped a Dylan tune ("Don't Think Twice, It's All
Right") into his own set.

But it's Dylan's dramatic performance at the 1965 festival that is at
the heart of this disc because he used the appearance to formally
declare he was moving from acoustic folk to turbo charged rock 'n'
roll, a move that angered many folk purists.

The hostility surfaced as soon as Dylan, who followed the
tradition-minded Cousin Emmy on the bill, opened his brief electric
set with "Maggie's Farm," a blistering statement of artistic independence.

In his 1986 biography No Direction Home: The Life and Music of Bob
Dylan, Robert Shelton reported that there was a flurry of boos as
Dylan finished the tune. "Bring back Cousin Emmy," someone shouted.

When Dylan and his band then tore into "Like a Rolling Stone," the
audience response became even more heated. "Play folk music," one fan
yelled, according to Shelton. Snapped another, "Sell out!"

Watching the moment on the DVD is fascinating because it comes across
as pure chaos: Dylan's determination colliding with the fury of the audience.

When Dylan returned to the stage with an acoustic guitar for the
encore, the jeering stopped as Dylan sang "Mr. Tambourine Man."

But his choice of a closing song made it clear that Dylan wasn't
going to back down from his rock 'n' roll pursuit, and he eventually
showed that you can maintain the social consciousness of folk in a
rock context.

However, on that night, the words of that farewell song must have
felt like a slap in the face to the Newport audience: "It's All Over
Now, Baby Blue."

Hendrix was 24 when he stepped on stage at Monterey with bassist Noel
Redding and drummer Mitch Mitchell. Though already something of a
sensation in Europe, Hendrix and mates were making their U.S. debut
at Monterey, where they were introduced by Rolling Stones guitarist
Brian Jones.

Even after all this time, you can't help but marvel at Hendrix's
energy and passion, both as a performer and a guitarist, as he moves
in the Monterey set between such songs as "Foxy Lady" and "Wild Thing."

Though he also sang, it was his guitar virtuosity that ignited the
imagination of the rock world. Indeed, Hendrix sacrifices some of his
power when he sings a song, such as Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone,"
that requires a focus on the words.

The DVD, which contains all existing footage shot by director D.A.
Pennebaker for the "Monterey Pop" film crew, also allows you to see
Hendrix's performance from three different camera angles. There is
also some documentary footage and a brief earlier Hendrix club date
in England. Like "Mirror," this is an essential moment in pop culture.

.

A great warrior takes his final journey home [Vernon Bellecourt]

A great warrior takes his final journey home

http://www.tcdailyplanet.net/article/2007/10/24/great-warrior-takes-his-final-journey-home.html

10/26/2007
By Ron Edwards, Minnesota Spokesman-Recorder

Go in peace, Brother Vernon, on your flight to the Spirit World

Vernon Bellecourt came into this life born WaBun-Inini ­ Man of Dawn,
in Ojibwa ­ on October 17, 1931, on Minnesota's White Earth
reservation, where unemployment was 95 percent when he was growing
up. He moved to Minneapolis when he was 16.

For most of his life, Vernon was a true and consummate warrior
fighting not only the battles of his beloved people, but sitting at
the table with world leaders in his role as a "diplomat for justice"
(as stated in a UN piece) fighting the battle for the world's
disenfranchised. His funeral was October 17, 2007.

I had the pleasure of knowing Vernon for over 35 years. He co-founded
AIM (American Indian Movement) in 1968 and served as AIM negotiator
at the 1972 occupation of the Bureau of Indian Affairs headquarters
in Washington, D.C., as part of the Trail of Broken Treaties caravan.

He was with Jesse Jackson in Operation Push in Chicago in 1973. In
1974, under United Nations auspices, Vernon helped organize an
international conference on the rights of native peoples. We intoned
"We shall overcome" alongside the American Indian's "We shall overrun."

The Minneapolis Star Tribune paid appropriate and well-deserved
recognition to this great man on October 15.

Some who came to his wake at All Nations Church in South Minneapolis
were government officials from such African countries as Ghana and
Libya, paying their respects to a man who has now taken flight to the
Spirit World, a sign of the respect and admiration for him around the world.

It was heartwarming to see former Mayor Sharon Sayles Belton at his
wake. Other politicians were notable in their absence.

As president of the National Coalition on Racism in Sports and Media,
Vernon reminded everyone that Indians were people, not mascots or
artifacts (protesting the tens of thousands of skeletal remains of
American Indians held at various universities, anthropological
centers and museums, and thus denied burial).

Truly we "pass this way" but once. To come this way and do nothing
for humanity nor your people is to forfeit your right and claim to a
legacy. Vernon Bellecourt leaves a legacy rich in achievements,
success and caring.

It is in the context of extreme U.S. government repression of the
American Indian Movement that Vernon and other indigenous leaders are
best appreciated. He became an internationalist and was a founder of
the International Indian Treaty Council, a staunch advocate,
supporter and speaker for indigenous peoples around the world.

He understandably sought help wherever he could find it. Although
reviled in Minnesota, he sat with leaders of international
importance, such as Nelson Mandela and Bishop Desmond Tutu. Vernon
was loved around the world, where he supported all indigenous people,
including the Irish, Venezuelan, Cuban, Libyan, Nicaraguan, Palestinian, etc.

His first trip to see a foreign leader was in 1989, to Libya, when he
met with Col. Muammar el-Qaddafi, who pledged a billion dollars for
American Indians ­ which the U.S. government didn't allow.

Unable to obtain free or cheap heating oil for our Indian
reservations here, he got it from Venezuelan President Hugo Chaves.
It was partly by meeting with controversial foreign figures like
Libya's Qaddafi, Yasir Arafat, Chavez, etc., that Vernon was able to
gain international recognition for Indian nations and their treaties.

Vernon Bellecourt, this humble son of Minnesota, sat at the table of
international power. His council and wisdom were sought by those who
walked the international stage in the fight for freedom. Vernon loved
his people and was displeased with anyone who had no caring for those
considered to be the least of our citizens, particularly the children
of the world.

As we have pointed out in this column, Vernon fought against the use
of despicable Indian names for sports teams. In this regard, not many
will forget his arrest in October 1997, in Cleveland, Ohio, and the
discomfort he brought on Ted Turner and Jane Fonda as they did the
"tomahawk chop" at Atlanta Braves games.

But it was his concern for the future of the world's children that
brought an even greater demand for his counsel and for his wisdom.

Some forget that not every private citizen gets asked to address the
United Nations, as did Vernon. At the time, Nicaragua's President
Daniel Ortega probably said it best when he called Vernon Bellecourt
the most compelling spokesman for the indigenous people of the world.

Vernon Bellecourt will be missed on the local and world stages. You
only pass this way once, and to have come and seen and said nothing
will guarantee a bleak recollection and remembrance of your presence.
But to have come, to have seen, to have spoken, and to have reached
out to make a difference, to make a change, and to provide hope
accords Vernon the right to be called forever one of the great
warriors on the long and unbroken civil rights trail on behalf of his people.

Go in peace, our brother, and may you be greeted by the giants of our
time, yesterday and today.

.

Bob Dylan's Cadillac ads are a gas

Bob Dylan's Cadillac ads are a gas

http://www.usatoday.com/life/people/2007-10-21-dylan-cadillac_N.htm

10/21/2007
By Edna Gundersen, USA TODAY

On 2001's Summer Days, Bob Dylan sang, "I'm drivin' in the flats in a
Cadillac car," a lyric that comes to life today in the debut of a
multiplatform ad campaign for Cadillac. In a 30-second TV spot, the
music legend, sporting a cowboy hat and shades, steers a black 2008
Escalade across California's Antelope Valley before stepping out to
survey the desert landscape.

He utters one line: "What's life without taking a detour?" The ad
also plugs XM satellite radio, a standard feature in the luxury SUV
and home to Dylan's weekly Theme Time Radio Hour, which this
Wednesday finds the bard spotlighting songs about the iconic auto.

In a long-form online vignette (viewable now at xmradio.com and
starting Wednesday at cadillac.com and mycadillacstory.com), Dylan
cracks, "You know what's even better than a great road tune? Not
having some DJ talking all over it. Unless, of course, that DJ's me."
Print and online ads begin in November.

It's not Dylan's first commercial venture; he has appeared in ads for
iPod and Victoria's Secret.

.

Donovan aims to put students on higher plane

[3 articles]

Sixties pop star plans to open meditation university in Scotland

http://www.nme.com/news/nme/32146

'Invincible Donovan University' is in the works

29.Oct.07

Sixties pop star Donovan is working on a plan to open a university in
Scotland which will concentrate on transcendental meditation.

The 'Mellow Yellow' singer says guru Maharishi Mahesh Yogi told him
to build the university on a visit to India in 1968, and it wasn't
until he met famed film director David Lynch in recent years that he
decided to fulfill the Maharishi's request.

"I know it sounds like an airy-fairy hippie dream to go on about '60s
peace and love," Donovan told the Associated Press "But the world is
ready for this now."

"I met David Lynch, who told me about the positive effects of TM in
education. Although it's taken me 35 years, I will do what the
Maharishi told me to do."

The David Lynch Foundation is on a mission to bring transcendental
meditation to schools in deprived areas of the US and say it has had
a positive effect so far on students at the schools where it has been
introduced.

Lynch and Donovan intend to contact education officials in Scotland
to make the school a legitimate place of learning and director Lynch
says the effects could be outstanding.

"For a country the size of Scotland it would take only 250 students
meditating to protect Scotland from its enemies and to bring peace,
to stop violence and drug abuse. That is just a byproduct of the
students meditating together."

--------

Counter-culture heroes to open hippie uni

http://www.smh.com.au/news/people/counterculture-heroes-to-open-hippie-uni/2007/10/30/1193618864192.html

October 30, 2007

Sixties pop singer Donovan and cult film director David Lynch have
unveiled plans for a new university in Scotland, where students will
learn regular subjects while adhering to the principles of
twice-daily transcendental meditation.

Donovan, whose hits include Hurdy Gurdy Man and Mellow Yellow,
announced he will open the Invincible Donovan University in either
Glasgow or Edinburgh, bringing the hippy dream of world peace to his
home country of Scotland.

The singer was joined by Lynch, an equally unlikely academic who
directed film classics such as Blue Velvet and the television show
Twin Peaks. The pair are part of a British tour to promote
transcendental meditation, or TM, as a means of reducing violence,
crime and stress in schools and colleges.

"I know it sounds like an airy-fairy hippy dream to go on about '60s
peace and love," said the singer, who was born Donovan Leitch in the
deprived Maryhill area of Glasgow. "But the world is ready for this
now, it is clear this is the time."

The Invincible Donovan University is not the only foray into the
world of higher education for believers in transcendental meditation.
The Maharishi University of Management in Fairfield, Iowa, was
established in 1971. Donovan and Lynch are visiting lecturers and professors.

--------

Donovan aims to put students on higher plane

http://music.guardian.co.uk/news/story/0,,2200248,00.html

· Meditation to underpin university's curriculum
· David Lynch backs singer's proposal for institution

Thair Shaikh
Saturday October 27, 2007
The Guardian

Many undergraduates already spend their days listening to psychedelic
tunes, watching strange films and trying to reach a transcendental
plane. But now, thanks to an unlikely alliance between folk singer
Donovan and film director David Lynch, all of the above will be on
the curriculum.

The Invincible Donovan University will provide the traditional
university subjects, but students will also undergo training in
transcendental meditation - the technique practised by the Maharishi
Mahesh Yogi and popularised by the Beatles. Donovan, whose hits
include Hurdy Gurdy Man and Mellow Yellow, said he would open the
university in either Glasgow or Edinburgh, bringing the hippy dream
of world peace to his home country of Scotland.

The singer was joined by Lynch, an equally unlikely academic who
directed films such as Blue Velvet and the television show Twin
Peaks. The pair are part of a British tour to promote transcendental
meditation, as a means of reducing violence, crime and stress in
schools and colleges. "I know it sounds like an airy-fairy hippy
dream to go on about '60s peace and love," said the singer, who was
born Donovan Leitch in the Maryhill area of Glasgow. "But the world
is ready for this now, it is clear this is the time."

Donovan claimed that the practice of transcendental meditation would
enhance the learning experience. "It will be a normal university but
will also be very, very different because of its potential that will
be unfolding because of an extraordinary technique which I learnt
when I was in India with the Beatles in 1968," he said. "It's called
transcendental meditation and it has been applied for many years in
different educational programmes with astounding results."

Lynch said he had practised the technique for more than 34 years.

He said through his foundation he had found children undertaking
meditation achieve better qualifications at school, boost their
creativity, particularly in relation to the arts, and are more productive.

Donovan said he would like to be involved with some teaching at the
university, particularly in relation to music, but his role would
mainly be within a steering group for the project. He added that he
had met Scottish culture minister Linda Fabiani at the Scottish
parliament to discuss his university.

Donovan said he believed using meditation could lead to total
enlightenment which, if enough people experience it and practice,
could lead to a more peaceful Scotland and even help to eradicate
terrorism. The singer continues to perform at festivals and keeps up
his contacts with India.

Donovan and Lynch were joined yesterday by quantum physicist John
Hagelin and Dr Bevan Morris, president of the Maharishi University of
Management in the United States.

.

Exploring the case for armed struggle

Exploring the case for armed struggle

http://www.stuff.co.nz/stuff/4248869a1861.html

Independent Financial Review
Wednesday, 24 October 2007

If an arms uprising is being considered in New Zealand, what are the
reasons and what will it mean, asks CHRIS TROTTER.

Operation Eight - the series of arms-related arrests intended to
pre-empt an alleged insurrectionary conspiracy against the New
Zealand state - marks a turning point in New Zealand's political history.

Its importance should not be measured by the scale of the police
operations in and around Ruatoki and the Urewera National Park; the
Tuhoe people have been on the receiving end of such Pakeha-led
invasions at least twice before in their history.

It's only when one considers the deep crevasses opening between the
moderate and radical wings of the New Zealand Left that the real
importance of the events of the past 10 days becomes apparent.

These widening gaps could all-too-easily result in next year's
general election slipping from the grasp of the Labour-Green-Maori
"bloc" which, until last week, still seemed odds-on to win it.

As the case against the alleged conspirators unfolds, those New
Zealanders who define themselves as left-wing, or, more acceptably
these days, as "progressive", will be forced to pick a side.

Do they see their society, and its manifold shortcomings, as being
redeemable by the normal processes of constitutional government?

Or, has New Zealand society passed beyond all hope of democratic redemption?

Members and supporters of the Labour Party will, with a handful of
ineffectual exceptions, find little difficulty in affirming the
constitutional path.

And if Police Commissioner Howard Broad's case for pre-emptive
intervention is as strong as he says it is, then Labour people will
feel no compunction in roundly condemning the tactics of the alleged
insurrectionists.

Within the Greens and the Maori Party, however, determining the
correct response to the arrest and subsequent trial of these
individuals is likely to prove much more problematic.

Within both parties there exists a significant minority (or even, in
the case of the Maori Party, a majority) of members harbouring
serious doubts about both the desirability and durability of New
Zealand's constitutional arrangements.

In both parties, too, there is a potent strain of millenarian (and
even apocalyptic) thinking: a conviction that we have entered or are
about to enter a period of fundamental and irrevocable change, during
which the institutions and patterns of thought and behaviour that
have dominated people's lives for centuries will pass away forever.

For many environmental activists the plausibility of this "end time"
scenario is bolstered by the already apparent effects of climate change.

For these "Deep Greens", global warming is increasingly viewed as a
test of humanity's willingness to acknowledge its own ecological
guilt and embrace the far-reaching and often painful changes in
lifestyle required to undo the damage.

Nothing less than wholesale systemic change will suffice.

On the fringes of this millenarian grouping, Deep Green radicalism
inevitably begins to shade into the darker hues of eco-anarchism.

If Western industrial society refuses to accept the need for massive
social and economic change, then these "Partisans of the Planet" must
be free to act on its behalf; defending the natural environment, in
Malcolm X's immortal phrase: "By any means necessary."

To such people, the notion of hiving off into the Ureweras with "the
people of the mist", to be given the "means" of protecting Mother
Nature by staunch Tuhoe warriors, probably sounded like a really neat idea.

Indeed, it is difficult to conceive of a prospect more likely to
titillate the romantic sensibilities of the hard-line environmental activist.

If such proves to be the case (and a swift glance at the responses to
Operation Eight posted on the Aotearoa Indymedia website strongly
suggests that it is), then the Green Party leadership will swiftly
come under intense pressure to treat the arrested environmental and
Maori activists not as villains, but as heroes.

Even within the Green parliamentary caucus there are those whose
youthful experiences in the Maoist and Trotskyist Left are likely to
render them more sympathetic than not to a new generation of
activists for whom the revolutionary incantation "political power
grows out of the barrel of a gun" continues to work its pernicious magic.

Apocalyptic visions of a New Heaven and a New Earth are not, of
course, restricted to the radical environmental movement.

Among the defeated Maori tribes of the late 19th century, such
visions provided both solace and inspiration. Indeed, it was to shut
down and disperse "New Jerusalem", the millennial community created
by the Tuhoe prophet Rua Kenana at Maungapohatu (Tuhoe's sacred
mountain) that the last great expedition of armed constabulary set
off into the Ureweras in March 1916.

There will be few among the Maori Party leadership who are not aware
of the prophetic traditions of Tuhoe, or unaware of that tribe's
special status as the last to succumb to the ceaseless encroachment
of the Pakeha state.

They will know, too, that Rua's New Jerusalem was taken only after a
30-minute gunfight between the prophet's followers and constables
commanded by Police Commissioner John Cullen, the man who crushed the
miners' strike at Waihi in 1912.

Maori Party historians will also recall the travesty of justice that
constituted Rua's subsequent trial.

The images of up to 300 gun-toting, pistol-packing, black-helmeted
and body-armoured police constables moving inexorably up the narrow
river-valleys of the Ureweras to arrest yet another Tuhoe leader can
only have made a deep and painful impression upon the minds of the
four Maori Party MPs.

The party's co-leader, Dr Pita Sharples, speaking from a restorative
justice conference in Brisbane, characterised the Ruatoki raid of
October 15 as an event that would "put race relations in New Zealand
back one hundred years".

Coming on top of the staunch defence of Tuhoe mounted by the region's
Maori MP, Te Ururoa Flavel, Sharples' comments make it clear the
Maori Party will not lightly abandon Tame Iti and his followers to
their judicial fate.

We must, therefore, expect Iti and the other persons arrested in
Operation Eight to replace Ahmed Zaoui as the cause celebre of at
least a substantial minority of the New Zealand progressive community.

"Free Tame Iti!" T-shirts have already been printed, and embarrassing
questions (such as: "What possible reason could vegan pacifists have
for allegedly possessing semi-automatic weapons and Molotov
cocktails?") are being brushed aside as the accused are presented to
the news media as innocent victims of a repressive, racist, post-9/11
state, hell-bent on flexing its anti-terrorist muscles in the
legislature, the courts and on the streets.

And, so far, this particular framing exercise appears to be working.

A surprisingly large number of media outlets have simply refused to
be persuaded that Iti and his eco-anarchist allies constitute any
kind of serious threat to either the state or the public.

Partly this is attributable to "colonial cringe": the idea New
Zealand couldn't possibly produce a "real" terrorist threat that sort
of thing only happens overseas.

Partly it is a reflection of the repeated failure of the police and
security forces in places such as Britain, the US and Australia to
come up with "the goods" after scaring their respective societies
witless for days on end with banner headlines such as "Terror Plot
Uncovered" and "Police Swoop on Terror Suspects".

Mostly, however, it stems from a mixture of profound ignorance and
lofty condescension.

Knowing next to nothing about the history of Maori resistance,
understanding little of the Maori sovereignty debate that has raged
for more than 20 years, and accustomed to portraying people on the
left as figures of fun, the idea that what the police allege to have
been occurring in the Ureweras might turn out to something more than
yet another blunder by our "Keystone Kops" is prima facie
preposterous to most news editors.

Tragically, however, the essence of the police allegations: that
Tuhoe separatists and eco-anarchists have come together in some sort
of insurrectionary folie a deux is all-too-plausible.

Historically, the resort to arms by political movements arises out of
two quite distinct contexts.

The first is when peaceful and democratic protest is answered with
massive state violence. This happened at Sharpeville in 1960, when 69
people were shot by the South African police for protesting against
the apartheid Pass Laws.

It happened in Londonderry, in 1972, when 14 unarmed Catholic
civil-rights marchers were killed by soldiers of the British
Parachute Regiment.

After those events both the African National Congress and the
Provisional IRA moved swiftly to embrace the "armed struggle".

The second context, into which New Zealand seems to fit, involves a
society in which the extreme demands of a minority group fails to
attract a substantive following among the wider population, and is,
therefore, unable to make any appreciable progress politically.

In these circumstances, those who don't simply abandon the fight and
sink back into passivity tend to become increasingly alienated from
their fellow citizens.

A vicious spiral can then set in whereby the indifference of the
wider society provokes ever more aggressive assertions of the group's
political rectitude, which, in turn, increases its members' sense of
social isolation, and, worse still, brings them increasingly under
the surveillance of the authorities.

This increased attention from the police and security forces further
marginalises the extremists, convincing them not only that their
cause is of real significance (why else would the police be
persecuting them?), but also that the wider society's indifference to
their fate is proof of its culpable moral degeneracy.

That being the case, it is entirely justifiable both ethically and
politically to attack and seek to destroy the repressive society by
which they are persecuted and oppressed.

More chillingly, they argue that none of those who, by their silence
and inaction, are seen to endorse society's evils should be deemed
guiltless. And if everyone is guilty then everyone is a potential target.

This is the sort of thinking that spawned the Weathermen and the
Baader-Meinhof terrorist organisations of the 1960s and 1970s.

It also produced the Symbionese Liberation Army, the murderous
abductors of Patty Hearst.

Couldn't happen here? Let's pray that it hasn't and doesn't. But
let's also consider these lines, penned by an anonymous poet "from
the North" about "things to come" and posted on the Aotearoa
Indymedia website:

"We're only human in these front lines And only lucky soldiers can
choose their sides.
So, brothers, please forgive me, Because every last round is for you.
So I'm praying that some Holy Angel has your back.
Just do what you must, we all bleed the same.
So, if your eyes meet mine, across this bloodstained street,
Brother, know this:Yeah, I love you, but I'm not gunna miss."

.

Peace, love, politics at Woodstock

[3 articles]

Peace, love, politics at Woodstock

http://www.boston.com/news/nation/articles/2007/10/29/peace_love_politics_at_woodstock/

Project's funding raises sour note

By Michael Kranish, Globe Staff | October 29, 2007

BETHEL, N.Y. - The emerald hill at Yasgur's Farm is quiet now, the
electrified sounds of Jimi Hendrix and other performers from the
Woodstock concert of 1969 long since faded. But at the hillcrest
rises an extraordinary sight: a $100 million Tanglewood-style concert
pavilion and an adjoining museum that soon will tell the story of the
1960s with exhibits such as "The Hippies" and "Three Days of Peace and Music."

The museum, intended to heal generational divisions, has instead
brought a political war back to the farm. The project's backers asked
New York's two US senators, including Democratic presidential
candidate Hillary Clinton, for $1 million in federal funds for the
museum. They portrayed it as a modest economic salve for a depressed region.

But the Senate killed the funding proposal earlier this month, and
Senator John McCain, the Arizona Republican seeking the presidency,
made it into a laugh line at a debate last week, mocking Clinton for
trying to memorialize a "cultural and pharmaceutical event."

McCain brought the debate audience to its feet when he added, "I was
tied up at the time," referring to being a prisoner of war in Vietnam
while hippies danced in Max Yasgur's muddy fields.

He turned the attack into a commercial airing in the first-primary
state of New Hampshire, complete with images of swaying concertgoers.

"No one can be president of the United States that supports projects
such as these," McCain said in the debate. In one sweep, McCain
performed a triple hit on Clinton, suggesting that she supports
wasteful spending by earmarking funds for special projects, that
Clinton is connected to Woodstock-style values while he was a POW,
and that she is unqualified to be president.

The museum's mission is to put into perspective the events of the
1960s, including the Vietnam War and the assassination of John and
Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King, which were followed by
counterculture rebellions and a burst of folk and rock creativity
that culminated in the Woodstock festival.

At the Woodstock concert site, where the autumnal glory of the
Catskills had just reached its peak late last week, there were
amazement and understanding about how a long-sought infusion of
federal funds for an economically distressed region turned into an
issue in the presidential campaign.

"I've been telling people for years that we need either a shot in the
arm or a shot in the head to put us out of our misery," said Town
Supervisor Harold Russell, a Republican and a farmer. "Well, this is
the shot in the arm we needed. It's been a revitalization of the town
and county."

If McCain had visited the town before attacking Clinton, Russell
said, he would have understood how much the project meant to the region.

But even some local townspeople who might benefit from the project
were skeptical about federal funding. Rickie Craft, manager of the
Woodstock Emporium, a country store 1 mile from the festival site
that sells concert memorabilia, said she objected to $1 million in
federal dollars going to a project that has plenty of private
backing. "You could give that money to homeless people," she said.

After word spread about the funding provision, Republicans earlier
this month joined with five Democrats - including Vietnam veteran
Senator James Webb of Virginia - to kill the funding. But the Senate
left intact every other earmark in the bill, more than 1,000 items
worth $563 million, according to the nonpartisan watchdog group,
Taxpayers for Common Sense.

"This is an example of how the system is out of control," said Steve
Ellis of Taxpayers for Common Sense. The Woodstock earmark was no
more or less deserving than other grants, he said. The bigger issue
is that Congress allows powerful members to get money for pet
projects, he said, usually without a vote.

"If you are going to play the game, you put yourself at risk for this
criticism," Ellis said. "They are more than willing to take credit
for the various projects, but all of a sudden when somebody comes
calling on it, it becomes an orphan."

The Woodstock project is the brainchild of a most unlikely patron: a
locally born billionaire named Alan Gerry, a former Marine and a
Republican who made his fortune in the cable television business.

He lived in the area during the festival but would not allow his
daughters to attend. But one daughter sneaked out and went anyway,
and another later helped convince her father that the site should be preserved.

Gerry decided to construct a 16,800-person concert venue, with 4,800
covered seats. The pavilion, known as the Bethel Woods Center for the
Arts, opened in 2006 for all kinds of music.

Indeed, Gerry brings to mind the famous Hendrix lyric about a
"white-collar conservative. . . . Mr. Businessman." Gerry's
associates smile knowingly at the comparison but say it took a
by-the-numbers businessman to see the potential of the site.

So Gerry's nonprofit family foundation kicked in nearly $85 million
for the facility, which also received $16.5 million in funds from New
York taxpayers during the administration of Governor George Pataki, a
Republican who backed the project. The $1 million in federal funds
was almost an afterthought.

Yet, the funding was sought around the same time that Gerry and his
family contributed $9,200 to Clinton's presidential campaign, and
$20,000 to the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee, led by New
York's other senator, Charles E. Schumer. Gerry, who declined to
interviewed, said earlier this month in a television interview that
the timing of the contributions was a coincidence.

He has also defended the museum as commemorating an important cultural event.

"It is not a hippie museum," said Gerry's chief of staff, Darrell
Supak, who spoke for the businessman. Supak said the foundation
envisions baby boomer parents arriving in minivans to teach their
children about Woodstock. It is, he said, designed for
family-friendly entertainment, scoffing at McCain's drug-infused description.

Michael Egan, the chief executive of the museum, saw a larger irony
at work, saying one of the themes of the museum has been
unintentionally illustrated by the McCain-Clinton feud. One exhibit
"talks about how we split politically as a nation at that point in
the '60s, and it has never been healed. That is really the beginning
of the red state-blue state bifurcation of the country," Egan said.

Clinton has not responded publicly to the attacks by McCain. Her
aides referred questions to Schumer, who attended a Bob Dylan concert
here this summer. Schumer has sung the project's praises on the
Senate floor, arguing that it would provide needed jobs. "I'm proud
of this earmark," he said. "It's the right type of earmark."

When the earmark received initial approval in June, Clinton and
Schumer put out a joint release that said the two senators "worked
closely" to get the funding. The June 22 statement did not mention
the word "Woodstock," saying instead that the funds would help pay
for exhibits about "the period of the 1960s and its continuing legacy."

McCain and his press secretary did not respond to a request for
comment. In describing the earmark during last week's debate, McCain
said the money was going to what he called the "Woodstock Concert Museum."

In fact, the money was intended for what will be called the Museum at
Bethel Woods, scheduled to open next summer. The self-described
hippies and flower children who run an unaffiliated facility 70 miles
from here called the Woodstock Museum were not amused at McCain's statement.

"We really were the hippies living it," said Shelli Lipton, chief
executive of the Woodstock Museum. She attended the concert and
scoffed at the notion that Clinton, who voted for the Iraq war but
now is critical of it, has Woodstock values. "I've never heard her
say, 'The hippies were right,' " Lipton said.

For many of those connected to the original event, the spat over the
$1 million in federal money and the opulence of the facility pale
beside the joy of being able to enjoy the return of acts such as
Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young.

"It's a little bit corporate for me, but it is great to see music in
the valley," said Michael Lang, a producer of the original festival.
As it happens, Lang attended a fund-raiser for Clinton on Thursday in
New York City and they discussed McCain's attack on her. "She said,
'Life's too short to be worrying about comments like that,' " Lang said.

Some original concertgoers never left. Duke Devlin, whose barrel
chest and flowing beard give him a resemblance to the 1960s comic
strip character Mr. Natural, attended the festival and works for the
center as a historical interpreter. Asked what Hendrix would have
thought of Woodstock's makeover by an incarnation of Mr. Businessman,
Devlin said the place was - and should still be - all about the music.

"He would have said, 'When do I go on?' " Devlin said of Hendrix.

--------

No Museum Cash, Says Woodstock Vet

http://ap.google.com/article/ALeqM5iH47wVRdBgIZQIBPD41u_-oOFWaAD8SJ2LB81

By FREDERIC J. FROMMER
October 29, 2007

WASHINGTON (AP) ­ Sen. Norm Coleman attended Woodstock and even did a
video for a planned museum commemorating the famous music festival.
But the Minnesota Republican recently voted against spending $1
million to help with the effort, saying government has better things
to do with its money.

"I was at Woodstock. I have been to the site of the Woodstock
museum," Coleman said last week. "It's a wonderful museum. That
doesn't mean the government has to pay for it."

This month, in a mostly party-line 52-42 vote, Coleman voted with the
majority to strip the $1 million earmark sought by New York Sens.
Hillary Rodham Clinton and Charles Schumer, both Democrats. In
another tie to the past, Coleman and Schumer attended high school
together in the New York City borough of Brooklyn, just a few years
before Woodstock.

Coleman, a former long-haired, anti-war student activist, described
his museum video as "kind of a historical ­ a U.S. senator, and I was
at Woodstock. It may appear someday in the museum."

"As somebody who was there, who has actually seen the facility, I
have an appreciation for it, but the vote was about federal dollars," he said.

Officially, the Woodstock museum is known as the Museum at Bethel
Woods, and is due to open next year. Bethel is the upstate New York
town where organizers eventually put on the three-day Woodstock Music
and Art Fair in 1969. Museum officials declined to share the Coleman video.

Coleman worked as a roadie for Ten Years After in the summer of 1969,
helping set up stage equipment. But he quit by the time the band
played at Woodstock. In a 1994 interview with The Associated Press
commemorating the 25th anniversary of the festival, he explained: "I
didn't want to work. I wanted to play and hear music."

Last week, Sen. John McCain, R-Ariz., tried to capitalize on the
brouhaha over the earmark, running a TV ad that mocks fellow
presidential candidate Clinton for the spending proposal.

"A few days ago, Senator Clinton tried to spend $1 million on the
Woodstock concert museum," McCain says in the ad, his words from a
Fox News Channel debate played along with psychedelic music and
colors. "Now my friends, I wasn't there. I'm sure it was a cultural
and pharmaceutical event."

Then, as footage shows McCain strapped to a bed as a POW in Vietnam,
he adds, "I was tied up at the time." McCain, a Navy pilot, was shot
down in 1967 and spent 5 1/2 years in a North Vietnamese prison.

While McCain tries to use Woodstock against Clinton, Republicans once
talked up Coleman's participation in the event.

In 2002, Ken Mehlman, the White House political director at the time,
tried to favorably compare candidate Coleman with the incumbent
senator, Minnesota Democrat Paul Wellstone.

"Only one of two candidates attended Woodstock ... Norm Coleman,"
Mehlman told reporters, according to The New York Times. As to
whether that was a good thing, he responded: "I think it's good.
Voters like people who are who they really are."

Wellstone died in a plane crash just days later, and his replacement,
former Vice President Walter Mondale, lost the election to Coleman.

--------

Woodstock Museum Becomes A Campaign Issue

http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2007/10/27/politics/washingtonpost/main3419386.shtml

Hippie Museum Or Not, It's Started A Squabble On Capitol Hill And On The Trail

Oct. 27, 2007
By Joel Achenbach
(WASHINGTONPOST.COM)

BETHEL, N.Y. - It rises from the hilltop, bigger than a barn, built
of stone and roofed in copper. Officially it will be the Museum at
Bethel Woods, and it will be focused on the Woodstock festival, the
"three days of peace and music" that took place here in August 1969.
But the museum has been tagged by critics with a different name: the
Hippie Museum.

"This is the farthest thing from a hippie museum that anything could
be," declared Harold Russell, a dairy farmer who is the town
supervisor -- and a reelection-seeking Republican -- in Bethel. "I
personally take a little offense to that."

In this rural area, the project is seen as crucial to the economic
recovery of a region hammered by the closing of once-popular Borscht
Belt tourist resorts.

But the museum has become a magnet for criticism. A $1 million
congressional earmark -- pushed by Sen. Charles E. Schumer (D), with
fellow New Yorker, Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton (D), signing on --
generated a squabble on Capitol Hill, and Republicans, led by Sen.
Tom Coburn (Okla.), killed the measure with the help of a handful of
Democrats.

A campaign ad for Sen. John McCain (R-Ariz.) unveiled this week is a
send-up of Clinton for supporting the museum earmark in a
congressional spending bill. The spot opens with a spinning tie-dye
image and shows footage of a dancing, presumably zonked-to-the-gills
flower child at Woodstock. McCain is seen at a Republican
presidential debate, saying, "A few days ago, Senator Clinton tried
to spend $1 million on the Woodstock concert museum. Now, my friends,
I wasn't there. I'm sure it was a cultural and pharmaceutical event.
I was tied up at the time." Cut to footage of McCain as a prisoner of
war in Hanoi.

McCain (who missed the vote on the earmark) got a big laugh and a
standing ovation from the crowd and his fellow Republicans. But if
his zinger played well on the trail, it hasn't here in Bethel.

"It's definitely not a celebration of hippiedom," said Darrell Supak,
a former Army colonel who was wearing a blue pinstripe suit and
polished burgundy shoes as he greeted a visitor at the entrance to
the museum. Supak is the right-hand man of billionaire Alan Gerry,
whose foundation runs the Bethel Woods Center for the Arts. "It's
definitely not a hippie museum," he said.

The museum is not finished, and officials with the arts center, which
includes the museum, would not permit a tour of the exhibit space.
But Mike Egan, the Gerry Foundation executive who has spent more than
two years putting the museum together, provided a detailed briefing
complete with computer graphics and a blueprint.

A visitor entering the permanent exhibit will learn about the broader
historical context of Woodstock -- the baby boom, the Cold War, the
roots of rock-and-roll, the civil rights movement, the assassinations
and riots of the 1960s, and so on. Inevitably, the visitor will come
upon a section labeled on the blueprint as "the Hippies."

"We talk about the hippies, we talk about the look of the hippies, we
talk about the drug use of some of the hippies, and we talk about the
burnout," Egan said.

It will be possible to go inside a school bus modeled on the one used
on cross-country treks by author Ken Kesey and his band of "Merry
Pranksters," whose antics were documented by Tom Wolfe in "The
Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test."

Music and videos will be everywhere. The central area will be devoted
to the festival proper, and visitors can sit partially surrounded by
a video screen that will create the illusion that they are at the
concert watching the performances.

The plans call for a final stop dubbed "Woodstock Becomes
Mainstream." Beyond that is a large section on the blueprint that is
blank but for a single word: "Retail."

You could call it a hippie museum with a haircut. It demonstrates
more than anything else the American capacity to turn even the most
unruly and chaotic moments in our history into something orderly,
manageable and culminating in a gift shop.

The whole arts center, with its concert pavilion, amphitheater and
cavernous new reception hall adjacent to the museum, feels a lot like
Wolf Trap in the Washington suburbs. It's a place where you could
attend a performance and sip some white wine, but couldn't light up a
cigarette -- or anything else.

The museum is not designed to bring on the revolution. What it can
do, supporters say, is bring people and revenue to rural Sullivan
County, about 100 miles north of New York City.

Former town supervisor Allan Scott says Bethel has wrestled with its
Woodstock legacy. In years past, pilgrims would come to the area and
hold all-night concerts without approval from local authorities.

"It was so important for us to get control of this thing for the
benefit of our economy," Scott said as he drove along Filippini Pond,
famous for Woodstock skinny-dipping.

Sullivan County was more prosperous in the days when "the Catskills,"
as this area is called (the actual mountains are a bit to the north),
offered an alluring vacation destination for city folks from around
the Northeast and the Mid-Atlantic. They would go to tony hotels such
as Grossinger's, just up the road. But the Catskills went out of
fashion as the moneyed East Coast set switched to jet travel and more
glamorous vacations.

"It was like falling off the edge of the world. It was terrible," Scott said.

The name Woodstock has generated geographical confusion for 38 years.
In 1969, the promoters of the Woodstock Music and Art Fair failed to
get a site, as they'd hoped, in the vicinity of Woodstock, N.Y.,
about an hour's drive from Bethel. Eventually, they persuaded Max
Yasgur, a dairy farmer in Bethel, to allow the concert to take place
on his alfalfa field. What ensued became one of the signature
chapters of the 1960s: a mass migration of young people, as many as 500,000.

They camped in the fields throughout the area and bathed in the lakes
and streams. For three days and nights, they listened to Jimi
Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Santana, the Who, Creedence Clearwater
Revival, the Band, Sly & the Family Stone, the Grateful Dead (cut
from the famous movie and album because of technical problems) and
many others.

But Bethel never became a brand name. As Woodstock hardened into
legend, many of the economic reverberations were felt far away, in
the town of the same name.

Enter Alan Gerry, local boy made good. A high school dropout and
former TV repairman, Gerry (who via a spokeswoman declined to speak
for this article) started a cable TV company and became a billionaire
when he sold his business to Time Warner. This year, he was No. 297
on Forbes's list of the richest Americans. In 1996 he formed the
Gerry Foundation, and it began buying up about 2,000 acres of land in
Bethel, including the Woodstock site. Last year, the Bethel Woods
Center for the Arts opened its gates.

This summer, the arts center held a concert called "Hippiefest," the
promotional material for which ("gather your groovy beads and we'll
see you on the lawn for a trip down memory lane") was read into the
Congressional Record by Sen. Jon Kyl (R-Ariz.) as he spoke against
the museum earmark.

Gerry and his family contributed $20,000 to the Democratic Senatorial
Campaign Committee, headed by Schumer, and $9,200 to Clinton's
presidential campaign after the earmark was inserted into legislation.

Coburn, the Republican who led the effort to block the earmark, said
in an interview that he doesn't object to the museum. In 1969, he
said, he was a junior in college and, though not a hippie, was very
much part of that generation: "If you saw pictures, you'd laugh ... I
was a mophead." Coburn said his complaint is that earmarks, special
spending for pet projects, are the "gateway drug" to congressional
overspending.

Phil Singer, a spokesman for Clinton's presidential campaign, said
the arts center is an "economic development" opportunity for Upstate
New York, and he slammed McCain's criticism.

"Senator McCain should focus more on explaining to New Hampshire
voters why he supported the fiscally irresponsible Bush policies that
squandered a federal surplus and left us with the largest deficit in
American history," Singer wrote in an e-mail. "As President, Senator
Clinton will reverse those policies and restore the nation to fiscal
responsibility."

Schumer told his Senate colleagues that the state of New York has put
$15 million into the arts center and that the Gerry Foundation has
paid for the bulk of the rest of the $100 million project. In a
committee hearing on the earmark, Schumer said: "It was a tumultuous
decade, and it is a good idea to study it. Museums and libraries are
a very important part of our history and education, as well as a job magnet."

But a tourist magnet? That remains a marketing challenge. The
Woodstock name is trademarked.

"There is debate about whether it should be called Woodstock," said
Supak, the former colonel. "I don't think it's necessary. I think you
can do just about anything with marketing and branding."

.

I was stupid too - but at least I admit it, comrade

I was stupid too - but at least I admit it, comrade

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/uk/article2752164.ece

The young radicals who marched with Neil Lyndon 40 years ago are now
Britain's elite but are still in denial about the despotic regimes they backed

October 28, 2007

We stood on the bridge at midnight with glasses of vodka in our
hands. As the clock in the Queens' College cloisters struck 12, we
raised our glasses and toasted "to the revolution". Then began a
rowdy and energetic rendition of the Internationale, booming out at
first over the waters of the River Cam but feebly petering out when
it came to the second verse which – like the national anthem – none
of us was quite sure how to continue.

After we had climbed down from the parapet of the Silver Street
bridge, we 12 or 13 Cambridge undergraduates – all men, I am fairly
sure – gathered again in some nearby college rooms where we earnestly
agreed that our first revolutionary commitment from that moment would
be to learn all the words of the Internationale so we would not
disgrace ourselves in the company of other comrades when we went on
demonstrations. None of us, I believe, ever bent our brows to that
stern task. That would tally with the general approach that most of
us took towards our studies.

It was October 25, 1967, the 50th anniversary of the Bolshevik
revolution. I don't know what became of all those boys but I am still
friends with a few and have followed the careers of others, such as
Simon Hoggart, The Guardian's parliamentary sketch writer and radio presenter.

A couple, including Peter Cole (once News Review editor at this
paper) have become eminent professors. Gwynn Pritchard – our
firebrand leader in black leather bomber jacket and black beret just
like Che Guevara – joined the BBC and rose to become head of Welsh
broadcasting. One has been a professional gardener all his working
life. Another has been a semi-profes-sional drop-out for nearly 30 years.

I may not be sure what ultimately became of everybody else, but I do
know what we did immediately after that night. Within days, some of
us would be pushing and pulling with the bogeys in Grosvenor Square
at the first big demonstration of the Viet-nam Solidarity Campaign
(for the massive demonstration in March 1968, every one of us would be there).

On October 28 we joined a large pack of student demonstrators who
violently attacked the car of Harold Wilson, the prime minister,
after he had made a speech at the Guildhall. Within weeks many would
be hectically campaigning for change in their colleges, their
faculties and the university, resulting in the first serious conflict
of the 20th century between Cambridge University's governing bodies
and its students.

Within years one or two of these young men would be living in
revolutionary communes far away from the bourgeois family existence
from which almost all of us had sprung. One, at least, went further
and if perhaps he had swallowed one more tab of LSD or had been one
inch more trusted by the anarchist Stuart Chris-tie, the Stoke
Newington Eight – who were tried at the Old Bailey in 1972 with
bombing offences committed by the Angry Brigade – might have become
the Stoke Newington Nine.

The day after that singing on the bridge, some of us hung red flags
and banners bearing the hammer and sickle from the windows of our
rooms. On the outside of my door I pinned up a poster of Lenin,
emblazoned with the words he spoke to the Second All-Russia Congress
on October 26, 1917, the day after the revolution: "We shall now
proceed to construct the socialist order." Not long after, when I
opened my door in the morning, I found the poster in shreds on the
floor and a bucketful of horse manure dumped on my threshold.

Fully deserved, I now think. If I had been walking along Silver
Street last week and had seen some young student twits toasting the
90th anniversary of the Bolshevik revolution, I should have been
tempted to push them off the bridge into the river. So far as I am
concerned today, they – and we, 40 years ago – might just as well
have been marking the anniversary of the Nazis' Kristallnacht and
bellowing out the chorus of their Horst Wessel marching song.

What were we thinking of? The Prague spring had not yet been crushed
by Soviet tanks, but even so we all knew about the Soviet purges, the
show trials, the executions, the extermination of the kulaks, the
murderously suppressed revolts in Poland and Hungary. Solzhenitsyn
had already published One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich and
Koestler's Darkness at Noon and Orwell's Animal Farm were older than we were.

I – for pity's sake – had distant but beloved family in
Czechoslovakia whom I had visited in my mid-teens. I am one of the
few westerners still alive who actually saw the giant statue of
Stalin – the largest statue in Europe – that overlooked Prague for
many years. I had sensed the presence of the secret police in shadows
and of informers among the neighbours. I had felt the fear of my kin.

Much that I did in my youth can now make me shout aloud with shame;
but not much is more mortifying than to think I once toasted mass
murderers, torturers and totalitarian despots. How to explain it?

The kindest interpretation (undeserved) is that we were making a
local rather than an international statement. We were not
demonstrating a loving attachment to the Soviet Union so much as a
passionate detachment from our immediate society. It was not that we
shared a longing to join the bread queues in Moscow so much as to
declare our determination not to join the society of Cambridge, of
Britain or of the West as we then found it.

We knew where we did not belong – in the Cambridge of the all-male
colleges and rich boys' drinking societies such as the Pitt club, nor
in the England of hunt balls and Pall Mall clubs; but it was not so
easy to identify a code, a party or a society (apart from the company
of each other) to which we might belong.

We knew we detested the America of Richard Nixon and the B52s that
were carpet bombing peasant villages in southeast Asia; but no form
or focus of organised opposition was obvious except to turn to the
big beards of the 19th century, to Marx and Engels, and to the most
successful revolutionaries of the 20th century, Lenin and Trotsky.

So much for generous excuses. They might be allowed in small measure
towards confused young squirts who were barely out of school; but
they can hardly be extended towards adults who have unapologetically
carried the attachments of those times into their working lives and
have achieved prominence and power in our own society.

Bolshevism and the Russian revolution may have disintegrated in ruins
but the generation that raised its toast in the direction of the
Kremlin 40 years ago has triumphed. Leninism has been defeated almost
everywhere in the world, but the postwar generation of baby boomers
who went so far left in the 1960s now control this country's leading
institutions. Their taste for totalitarian simplicities and weakness
for millenarian terrors has been digested into modern feminism,
environmentalism and global warming. Many remain absolutely
unrepentant about their past because they have been so successful in
the present (one of the sweeter fruits of victory is never having to
apologise).

While Günther Grass, the German author, is excoriated for having
joined the Waffen SS at 17, Alan Johnson, the health secretary, is
benignly patted on the back for admitting that he was once
ideologically aligned to the Communist party of Great Britain. While
the Daily Mail is routinely vilified for its prewar support for the
Nazis, The Guardian's role in cheer-leading for a succession of
Marxist tyrants from Mao and Pol Pot to Cas-tro and Mugabe is rarely
questioned.

Joschka Fischer – former German foreign minister and vice-chancellor
– may have apologised for his actions when he was a member of the
"proletarian union for terror and destruction" in Germany, but his
friend Daniel Cohn-Bendit – co-president of the Green group in the
European parliament – has been less forthcoming about his links with
Hans-Joachim Klein, the Baader-Meinhof terrorist.

The feminist journalist and author Beatrix Campbell, who is visiting
professor of women's studies at New-castle University, is honoured
with doctorates at British universities but is never called to
account for the fact that as a young subeditor on the communist
Morning Star newspaper she took state-subsidised holidays in the
odious Erich Honecker's East Germany and lovingly spoke of that
nightmare land as "the GDR" (German Democratic Republic – a
formulation in which only the word German was not a foul parody).

For every one of those randomly chosen names 10m more members of the
same generation in Europe and America share an equal shame. We were
all deluded. We were all mistaken. We were all – to varying degrees –
off or out of our heads. We owe the world an apology and some acts of
contrition. The 90th anniversary of the Bolshevik revolution might be
a good moment to make a start.

.

Japanese Court Releases Red Army Member who had Served in Lebanon

Japanese Court Releases Red Army Member who had Served in Lebanon

http://www.naharnet.com/domino/tn/NewsDesk.nsf/0/6FAA2A763CE1415DC225737F003F7B01?OpenDocument

Beirut, 25 Oct 07

A Japanese court released Thursday a suspected member of the far-left
Red Army who had allegedly served in Lebanon, giving him a suspended
sentence after he served out 15 years in a U.S. prison for transporting bombs.

The court found Yu Kikumura, 55, guilty of using a forged
international driver's license when he was arrested by police while
driving on a highway with three homemade bombs in New Jersey in 1988.

According to U.S. prosecutors, Kikumura planned to bomb a veterans
affairs building in Manhattan on the anniversary of a U.S. air raid on Libya.

"His crime was dangerous and vicious as he used a forged license in
attempting to conceal his possession of explosives," Tokyo District
Court judge Masanori Tsunoda said.

The judge handed him a two-year sentence but suspended it for four
years as the defendant "admitted to the indictment's charges and
already spent nearly 19 years in detention abroad."

If Kikumura stays out of trouble for four years, he will not have to
serve any of the sentence.

Kikumura had served 15 years of a 21-year, 10-month term in the US.
He was released from a Colorado prison in April and deported to Japan.
Japanese courts regularly show leniency to people who admit their
crimes. The prosecution had sought two years in prison with no suspension.

Kikumura denied in a U.S. court that he was a member of the Red Army,
though he was allegedly spotted in the guerrilla group's base in Lebanon.

The Japanese Red Army, advocating worldwide leftist revolution
through violence, carried out a series of hijackings and violence on
embassies abroad in the 1970s and 1980s.

It is most notorious for a 1972 massacre at Tel Aviv's airport that
killed 24 people, most of them Puerto Rican pilgrims.

Kikumura was said to have left Japan in 1974. He was deported home
after being arrested with explosives in the Netherlands in 1986, but
he slipped out of Japan two days later, according to media reports.

The group's leader, Fusako Shigenobu, was arrested in Osaka in 2000
after slipping into the country under a false identity. She announced
the disbandment of the group in April 2001.

.

The courage of David Cline

The courage of David Cline

http://www.pww.org/article/articleview/11942/1/396

Author: Tim Wheeler
People's Weekly World Newspaper, 10/25/07

The death of Veterans for Peace leader David Cline on Sept. 15 in
Jersey City, N.J., touched off an outpouring of tributes from his
fellow veterans that continues to this day.

Cline was one of the antiwar movement's clearest thinkers and
certainly among its most inspirational mass leaders. The membership
of VFP tripled while he was president.

He spoke often of the special role of veterans, military families and
active-duty soldiers in countering President George W. Bush's
exploitation of the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks to justify
"preventive war."

A foot soldier with the 25th Infantry Division during the Vietnam
War, Cline was wounded three times. He came to understand that the
decade-long quagmire was a "rich man's war and a poor man's fight."

On his return to the U.S., Cline plunged into the GI antiwar movement
at Fort Hood, Texas. He edited the underground "Fatigue Press" and
co-founded the Oleo Strut Coffee House in Kileen, Texas, where GIs
learned the truth about the war.

The refusal of three Fort Hood soldiers, Black, Latino and white, to
go to Vietnam inspired a nationwide movement with the demand "Defend
the Fort Hood Three" led by the Young Workers' Liberation League.

Cline co-founded Vietnam Veterans Against the War (VVAW) with its
"Dewey Canyon II" march, in which hundreds of war veterans threw
their combat medals on the U.S. Capitol steps. The whole story is
told in the remarkable film "Sir! No Sir!"

I first met Cline March 29, 2003, while covering VFP's "Operation
Dire Distress" just as the invasion of Iraq began. Veterans in combat
fatigues marched near the White House, singing, "Hey, hey, Uncle Sam,
we remember Vietnam. War will mean that soldiers die. War will mean
that mothers cry … Bring our troops back to our soil. They shouldn't
die for Bush's oil."

Cline, a tall, thin, gravel-voiced man was singing out the lines. The
vets sang them back. Those "karma cadences" became the voice of the
entire antiwar movement. Cline was leading from the ranks.

I interviewed Cline many times after that.

When VFP and military families marched to Dover Air Force Base on
March 20, 2004, I walked with Dave for 45 minutes. An interview
turned into a conversation. "I read Sam Webb's piece on socialism,"
he said at one point, referring to a pamphlet by the chairman of the
Communist Party USA. "I liked it a lot. There's a lot in it I agree with."

A few weeks later, after a VFP rally at Faneuil Hall in Boston, Cline
spoke of the Democratic National Convention that was just opening.
"We have to remove the neo-conservatives from the White House and
Congress," he told me. "We have to have a movement with longevity to
push for progressive change in foreign and domestic policy."

In Fayetteville, N.C., near Fort Bragg, on the second anniversary of
the war, he told me, "Some upper-class people can ignore this war.
Those fighting and dying, mostly people of color, can't ignore it.
All across the country, they are saying, 'Support the troops in the
only way that is real: bring them home alive now.'"

The VFP convened in Dallas a few months later. Cindy Sheehan got the
idea of camping near Bush's ranch outside Crawford, Texas, while
addressing the convention. Cline assigned 40 vets to help her set up
"Camp Casey," named for her son who died in Iraq.

A few days later, the VFP bus was headed east when Hurricane Katrina
struck. At Cline's suggestion, the bus detoured to New Orleans where
VFP helped establish the first emergency medical center to serve
thousands of residents trapped in the flooded city.

A year later, Cline led "Walkin' to New Orleans," a march from Mobile
to New Orleans to protest the squandering of tax dollars in Iraq
while victims of Katrina along the Gulf were abandoned.

During the scandal at the Pentagon-run Walter Reed Hospital, I
telephoned Dave for his comment. He was outraged at the treatment of
these veterans. For years, he told me, he wouldn't go to the
Department of Veterans Affairs-run VA medical centers because he was
so angry about how veterans were treated. Yet he led a struggle to
keep open a VA clinic in lower Manhattan. We put his testimony on
keeping that clinic open on our op-ed pages.

David telephoned in March 2006 to ask us to write a feature on a VFP
delegation to Hanoi to form a joint U.S.-Vietnamese movement
demanding treatment of Agent Orange victims. David led that
delegation. He posted our article widely, including on the VFP web site.

A Vietnamese delegation made a return visit to the U.S. a few months
later led by Nguyen Van Quy, a Vietnam War vet. Nguyen and Cline
showed each other their wounds, joking about how long it was taking
them to heal. The next day, during a meeting, Cline presented his
Purple Heart to Nguyen, a man he now considered his friend and
comrade-in-arms.

"It was a gesture that could only come from David," wrote veteran
Billy Kelly, who was there. Soon after returning to Vietnam, Nguyen
died of complications from his Agent Orange exposure. "And now
David," Kelly concluded.

David Cline, presente!
---

greenerpastures21212 @yahoo.com

.

A Last Farewell To Bill Graham

A Last Farewell To Bill Graham

http://crawdaddy.wolfgangsvault.com/Article.aspx?id=3662

October 24, 2007
by Ben Fong-Torres

[Originally published in San Francisco Chronicle, 3 November 1991]

Bill Graham was a movie of a man. His 60-year-long life, which came
to an end in a helicopter crash in Sonoma County the night of October
25, was a seemingly endless reel of stories.

At his funeral service­before, during, and after­friends and family,
musicians, music-biz people, and journalists regaled each other with
stories about encounters with the man who single-handedly
revolutionized the rock concert industry, beginning at the Fillmore
Auditorium in San Francisco 25 years ago.

As I gazed at the poster portrait of a beaming Graham in the
courtyard of Temple Emanuel, I thought back to my own connections and
collisions with Graham.

The most explosive was one I actually heard through a closed door. It
was 1972, and he was in the brick-walled offices of Jann Wenner,
editor of Rolling Stone, with whom Graham had a hate-hate
relationship until recent times.

For somewhere between six and seven hours that April day, he was
locked in with Wenner and writer Tim Cahill, going over, line by
excruciating line, a recent Cahill profile of Graham, focusing on his
extensive business activities after closing down his Fillmores in San
Francisco and New York. Graham was especially upset with the opening
scene, in which Graham, walking through a warehouse cluttered with
Fillmore memorabilia, supposedly said, "Hello, balloon inflator, remember me?"

Reading that line, Graham exploded. "Now, what the f---­am I in
Peoria?" he asked. "...I'll walk down the street, and they'll say,
'Hey, there's that guy who said, "Hello, balloon inflator!" ' "

When Wenner and Cahill tried to convince him that the anecdote made
Graham seem human, he read it again and again, like the actor he
always wanted to be. "That's nice," Cahill tried. "Nice?" Graham
replied. "I think you're to be pitied." As angry as he was over this
and other perceived misquotes, the promoter couldn't help himself. He chuckled.

But for six more hours, he shook the room and the surrounding area
with his rage. Then it was over, Rolling Stone never printed any
retractions, and within a few issues, Graham was making himself
available to the magazine again.

It was the same way with me. Early in my career at Rolling Stone, in
mid-1969, I wrote a story about a series of free recording seminars
Graham's Fillmore Corp. was offering, implying that he had selfish as
well as altruistic motives for attracting musicians and producers to
a company involved in records, music publishing and management, as
well as concert production.

Soon after that article appeared, I was at the Fillmore West
conducting an interview with a rock group when Graham spotted me.
"Mister Fong-Torres," he said, emphasizing the title with a hissing
sneer as he did with anyone he detested. "If I see you in my building
again, I will have you physically removed."

But within a couple of weeks, we were on the phone again, and I was
at the Fillmore again. Graham simply needed to vent his wrath.

Before Graham, promoters flew by night, booking a few bands and a
hall, setting up a rinky-dink sound system, herding in the kids,
taking their money, and moving on. Graham, recognizing a new culture
and community (and, not incidentally, a potential cash cow) when he
produced those first benefits for the San Francisco Mime Troupe in
late 1965, caught on quick and redefined concert productions with the
simple notion of providing top-quality entertainment and production
values for the dollar.

Along with rival Chet Helms of the Family Dog, Graham helped
popularize light shows and concert posters; he spread the
dance-ballroom concept across the country at the Fillmore East in New
York; and he became a master of merchandising, of staging entire
tours for bands, and of mounting large-scale events such as the Last
Waltz (the Band's final concert) and New Year's Eve extravaganzas
with his favorite band, the Grateful Dead.

He obviously was by no means universally popular. His unabashed
pursuit of perfection­rooted in his time as a waiter in the
Catskills, when he realized that one of his main talents was good
service­immediately set him apart from rock musicians who had no
sense of rules. His brawling, street-fighting style­on the phone or
backstage­ frightened and repulsed others. But to Graham, he was
merely being "a stickler for principles."

Graham, who seemed to be helping stage a benefit every week of his
life, also became a villain for daring to make money, for squeezing
as many dollars as he could out of a deal, and for making no
apologies about his capitalism. "We were the evil necessity," he told
me in 1976, a trace of pain in his voice. "Many times, someone would
tap me and say, 'Great show, Bill. Then... he'd give me a dig in the
ribs: 'You really made a killing tonight, huh?' It was almost as if
saying, 'I wish we didn't need you, but thank God there is a you to
put this on.' "

Bill Graham, who looked so thick-skinned as to be impenetrable, was,
in reality, an insecure man who bled with every perceived slight; who
feared failure and, explaining why he found it so hard to let go of
his concert business, likened success to a drug. "It's hard to stay
away from it," he said.

But success was less a crutch than his lifeblood, a daily
confirmation that he had indeed made it away from the Nazis, from
whom the Berlin-born Graham (real name Wolfgang Grajonca) had to
escape on foot from an orphanage in Paris to Marseille in 1941.

Leave it to Graham to begin his life with an episode dramatic enough
for any movie­and to top it, over and over again.

It may have been his own tough times that led him to pour so many of
his resources into energizing other people, whether friends and
family or schools, churches, and entire communities.

Whatever it was, he wound up symbolizing, as much as anybody, the
endurance of some of the best values of the '60s, of taking care of
business, of one's own, and of the surrounding community. He was an
energetic and effective spokesperson for rock 'n' roll, freedom of
speech, and artistic and human rights, and he was so singular in the
way he could articulate his thoughts.

It's a big voice, a big pair of shoes, and a big auditorium that are empty now.

.

Why So Few Iraq War Protest Songs?

[See URL for numerous embedded links.]

Why So Few Iraq War Protest Songs?

http://vdare.com/guzzardi/071026_vfl.htm

October 26, 2007
By Joe Guzzardi

During a five-hour drive back to Lodi from Cayucos on California's
central coast, I happened on to XM Radio's special broadcast,
"Protest Songs of the '60s"

Listening again to those powerful songs ---Bob Dylan's Blowin' in the
Wind, Creedence Clearwater Revival's Fortunate Son, John Lennon's
Imagine (YouTube.com video here) and Give Peace A Chance (video here)
and The Animals' We Gotta Get Out of This Place, took me back to when
I was a young man living in New York.

During those turbulent years from 1963-1975, protest against the
Vietnam War built, distrust of Presidents Lyndon Johnson and Richard
Nixon intensified and flower children gathered across the nation to
call for an overhaul to the broken political system.

Today, more than four decades later, many parallels to the '60s
exist. Opposition to the Iraq War has steadily increased, President
Bush's popularity has sunk to historic lows and Americans are
disgusted with the nation's direction.

The biggest difference between then and now is that protest songs
about death and dying which played an important role in raising
awareness about the Vietnam tragedy and eventually changed public
opinion about the war's validity are largely missing.

One exception is Bruce Springsteen's tribute album, The Seeger
Sessions: We Shall Overcome.

Another is Pearl Jam's hit, World Wide Suicide, which told of a
mother mourning her son killed in an Iraq battle because his was "a
life the president took for granted."

But the Vietnam songbook was more extensive than today's handful of
Iraq-related singles.

As a testimony to that era, on March 1st 2003, with the Iraq War
looming, Joe's Pub at the Public Theater in New York presented the
Vietnam Songbook---a collection of over 100 tunes critical of the
Vietnam War. (Read the review here.)

Readers who struggled through the Vietnam years would instantly
recognize nearly all of those 100. Many are still in rotation on
mainstream radio.

Here are three:

---Ohio, written by Neil Young "immediately" (in his words) after
seeing the Life Magazine cover of four dead Kent State University
students and originally performed by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young
may be the most important protest song ever written. The song, banned
from many stations because it named Nixon in its lyrics, served as an
anthem for disaffected students throughout the country.

---Marvin Gaye's What Goin' On The title song from the 1971 album of
the same name was an instant smash and is considered one of pop
music's landmarks. The album is told from the perspective of a
Vietnam vet veteran coming home to the country he had been fighting
for, and seeing injustice, suffering and hatred. Gaye's brother,
Frankie, had returned from three years of service in the Army in 1970.

---Barry McGuire's The Eve of Destruction reached #1 on Billboard in
September 1965. With its most famous lyrics "You're old enough to
kill, but not for votin'/ You don't believe in war, but what's that
gun you're totin?' the song summarized the frustration of young
soldiers sent to Southeast Asia to fight in an unpopular war.

Today's protest songs are narrowly focused on President Bush and not
specifically on Iraq.

The head music critic for Entertainment Weekly, David Browne said:
"For better or worse, Bush has stirred up a lot of vitriol in the
music community. There's always been protest songs against
presidents, but they have never been near to the level of venom
you're seeing now." [Protest Song Is Back---With a Vengeance, By
Christopher Blagg, Christian Science Monitor, June 4, 2004]

I'm not clear on why there aren't more angry songs about our soldiers
being killed on the Iraq and Afghanistan battlefields. Record company
executives, artists and the young demographic that buys music are
liberal and opposed to the war.

And from a strictly commercial viewpoint, the anti-Vietnam songs
charted and were moneymakers.

The only explanation I can come up with saddens me.

During Vietnam, the draft made every family with a son of age
vulnerable. We all knew someone, somewhere who was off to Vietnam.

But today's volunteer army shields most of us from losing a loved one.

Apparently, other people's lives are cheaper than our own.
---

Joe Guzzardi [email him], an instructor in English at the Lodi Adult
School, has been writing a weekly column since 1988. It currently
appears in the Lodi News-Sentinel.

.