Wednesday, April 30, 2008

OBIT: Albert Hofmann, the Father of LSD

[10 articles]

Albert Hofmann, the Father of LSD, Dies at 102

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/30/world/europe/30hofmann.html

By CRAIG S. SMITH
Published: April 30, 2008

PARIS ­ Albert Hofmann, the mystical Swiss chemist who gave the world
LSD, the most powerful psychotropic substance known, died Tuesday at
his hilltop home near Basel, Switzerland. He was 102.

The cause was a heart attack, said Rick Doblin, founder and president
of the Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies, a
California-based group that in 2005 republished Dr. Hofmann's 1979
book "LSD: My Problem Child."

Dr. Hofmann first synthesized the compound lysergic acid diethylamide
in 1938 but did not discover its psychopharmacological effects until
five years later, when he accidentally ingested the substance that
became known to the 1960s counterculture as acid.

He then took LSD hundreds of times, but regarded it as a powerful and
potentially dangerous psychotropic drug that demanded respect. More
important to him than the pleasures of the psychedelic experience was
the drug's value as a revelatory aid for contemplating and
understanding what he saw as humanity's oneness with nature. That
perception, of union, which came to Dr. Hofmann as almost a religious
epiphany while still a child, directed much of his personal and
professional life.

Dr. Hofmann was born in Baden, a spa town in northern Switzerland, on
Jan. 11, 1906, the eldest of four children. His father, who had no
higher education, was a toolmaker in a local factory, and the family
lived in a rented apartment. But Dr. Hofmann spent much of his
childhood outdoors.

He would wander the hills above the town and play around the ruins of
a Hapsburg castle, the Stein. "It was a real paradise up there," he
said in an interview in 2006. "We had no money, but I had a wonderful
childhood."

It was during one of his ambles that he had his epiphany.

"It happened on a May morning ­ I have forgotten the year ­ but I can
still point to the exact spot where it occurred, on a forest path on
Martinsberg above Baden," he wrote in "LSD: My Problem Child." "As I
strolled through the freshly greened woods filled with bird song and
lit up by the morning sun, all at once everything appeared in an
uncommonly clear light.

"It shone with the most beautiful radiance, speaking to the heart, as
though it wanted to encompass me in its majesty. I was filled with an
indescribable sensation of joy, oneness and blissful security."

Though Dr. Hofmann's father was a Roman Catholic and his mother a
Protestant, Dr. Hofmann, from an early age, felt that organized
religion missed the point. When he was 7 or 8, he recalled, he spoke
to a friend about whether Jesus was divine. "I said that I didn't
believe, but that there must be a God because there is the world and
someone made the world," he said. "I had this very deep connection
with nature."

Dr. Hofmann went on to study chemistry at Zurich University because,
he said, he wanted to explore the natural world at the level where
energy and elements combine to create life. He earned his Ph.D. there
in 1929, when he was just 23. He then took a job with Sandoz
Laboratories in Basel, attracted by a program there that sought to
synthesize pharmacological compounds from medicinally important plants.

It was during his work on the ergot fungus, which grows in rye
kernels, that he stumbled on LSD, accidentally ingesting a trace of
the compound one Friday afternoon in April 1943. Soon he experienced
an altered state of consciousness similar to the one he had
experienced as a child.

On the following Monday, he deliberately swallowed a dose of LSD and
rode his bicycle home as the effects of the drug overwhelmed him.
That day, April 19, later became memorialized by LSD enthusiasts as
"bicycle day."

Dr. Hofmann's work produced other important drugs, including
methergine, used to treat postpartum hemorrhaging, the leading cause
of death from childbirth. But it was LSD that shaped both his career
and his spiritual quest.

"Through my LSD experience and my new picture of reality, I became
aware of the wonder of creation, the magnificence of nature and of
the animal and plant kingdom," Dr. Hofmann told the psychiatrist
Stanislav Grof during an interview in 1984. "I became very sensitive
to what will happen to all this and all of us."

Dr. Hofmann became an impassioned advocate for the environment and
argued that LSD, besides being a valuable tool for psychiatry, could
be used to awaken a deeper awareness of mankind's place in nature and
help curb society's ultimately self-destructive degradation of the
natural world.

But he was also disturbed by the cavalier use of LSD as a drug for
entertainment, arguing that it should be treated in the way that
primitive societies treat psychoactive sacred plants, which are
ingested with care and spiritual intent.

After his discovery of LSD's properties, Dr. Hofmann spent years
researching sacred plants. With his friend R. Gordon Wasson, he
participated in psychedelic rituals with Mazatec shamans in southern
Mexico. He succeeded in synthesizing the active compounds in the
Psilocybe mexicana mushroom, which he named psilocybin and psilocin.
He also isolated the active compound in morning glory seeds, which
the Mazatec also used as an intoxicant, and found that its chemical
structure was close to that of LSD.

During the psychedelic era, Dr. Hofmann struck up friendships with
such outsize personalities as Timothy Leary, Allen Ginsberg and
Aldous Huxley, who, nearing death in 1963, asked his wife for an
injection of LSD to help him through the final painful throes of
throat cancer.

Yet despite his involvement with psychoactive compounds, Dr. Hofmann
remained moored in his Swiss chemist identity. He stayed with Sandoz
as head of the research department for natural medicines until his
retirement in 1971. He wrote more than 100 scientific articles and
was the author or co-author of a number of books

He and his wife, Anita, who died recently, reared four children in
Basel. A son died of alcoholism at 53. Survivors include several
grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

Though Dr. Hofmann called LSD "medicine for the soul," by 2006 his
hallucinogenic days were long behind him, he said in the interview that year.

"I know LSD; I don't need to take it anymore," he said, adding.
"Maybe when I die, like Aldous Huxley."

But he said LSD had not affected his understanding of death. In
death, he said, "I go back to where I came from, to where I was
before I was born, that's all."

--------

Albert Hofmann, 102; Swiss chemist discovered LSD

http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-hofmann30apr30,0,2872076.story

His accidental experience of 'an extremely stimulated imagination'
caused by the drug led to a lifetime of experiments and initiated the
psychedelic generation.

By Thomas H. Maugh II, Los Angeles Times Staff Writer
April 30, 2008

Albert Hofmann, the Swiss chemist who discovered LSD and thereby gave
the psychedelic generation the pharmaceutical vehicle to turn on,
tune in and drop out, has died. He was 102.

Hofmann died Tuesday morning at his home in Basel, Switzerland, of a
heart attack, according to Rick Doblin, the head of MAPS, the
Multidisciplinary Assn. for Psychedelic Studies.

Hofmann also identified and synthesized the active ingredients of
peyote mushrooms and a Mexican psychoactive plant called ololiuqui
and developed at least three related, non-psychoactive compounds that
became widely used in medicine.

Those other feats would have been little remembered, however, had he
not accidentally gotten a trace amount of an experimental compound
called lysergic acid diethylamide on his fingertips and taken the
world's first acid trip.

Hofmann was a talented synthetic chemist working in the Basel
research center of Sandoz Laboratories -- now Novartis -- in the
1930s when he began studying the chemistry of ergot, the common name
for a fungus that grows on rye, barley and certain other plants.
Although ergot is poisonous, midwives had used a crude extract for
centuries to induce labor in women.

Twenty years earlier, researchers had isolated ergotamine, the first
ergot alkaloid isolated in pure form, and the compound had become
widely used for halting bleeding after childbirth and as a treatment
for migraine headaches.

In the early 1930s, American researchers had identified the primary
active ingredient of ergot, a chemical called lysergic acid. Hofmann
devised a technique to make a series of derivatives of lysergic acid
called amides and began systematically looking for medically useful compounds.

The 25th compound he synthesized, in 1938, was lysergic acid
diethylamide (in German, lyserg-saure-diathylamid), or LSD-25.
Because this compound had a chemical structure similar to an existing
drug called Coramine, Hofmann had hoped that it would be a stimulant
for the respiratory and circulatory systems.

But testing in experimental animals showed no significant activity
for the drug -- although the animals were observed to become restless
after its administration -- and it was abandoned.

During this period, Hofmann synthesized at least three amides that
became drugs: Methergine, used to halt bleeding after birth;
Hydergine, which improves circulation in the limbs and cerebral
function in the elderly; and Dihydergot, used to stabilize
circulation and blood pressure.

Prompted by what Hofmann later described as a "peculiar presentiment"
that LSD-25 might have properties other than those established in the
first investigations, he decided to look at it again.

On Friday afternoon, April 16, 1943, Hofmann had just completed
synthesizing a new batch when, he subsequently wrote to his
supervisor, "I was forced to interrupt my work in the laboratory in
the middle of the afternoon and proceed home, being affected by a
remarkable restlessness, combined with slight dizziness.

"At home, I lay down and sank into a not-unpleasant intoxicated-like
condition, characterized by an extremely stimulated imagination. In a
dreamlike state I perceived an uninterrupted stream of fantastic
pictures, extraordinary shapes with intense, kaleidoscopic play of
colors. After some two hours, this condition faded away."

Hofmann suspected that the state had been caused by something in the
lab. In an interview on his 100th birthday, he said, "I didn't know
what caused it, but I knew that it was important."

After breathing the solvents he had used produced no effect, Hofmann
suspected that the synthetic drug was the source. "LSD spoke to me,"
he said. "He came to me and said, 'You must find me.' He told me,
'Don't give me to the pharmacologist, he won't find anything.' "

The next Monday, he took what he considered to be an extremely small
dose of LSD, so small that a similar dose of even the most powerful
toxin known at the time would have had little or no effect. He had
planned to gradually increase the dosage but instead was surprised to
encounter the first bad acid trip.

Feeling bad, he asked his laboratory assistant to accompany him home
on his bicycle, no cars being available because of World War II
restrictions. During the trip, "I had the feeling that I could not
move from the spot. I was cycling, cycling, but the time seemed to
stand still."

By the time they reached his home, its furnishings had transformed
themselves into terrifying objects.

"Everything in the room spun around, and the familiar objects and
pieces of furniture assumed grotesque, threatening forms," he wrote
in his autobiography, "LSD: My Problem Child." "They were in constant
motion, animated, as if driven by an inner restlessness. The lady
next door [became] a malevolent, insidious witch with a colored mask."

Hofmann thought he was dying and sent for a doctor, but the physician
could find nothing wrong.

After about six hours, the experience began to change into a pleasant one.

"After some time, with my eyes closed, I began to enjoy this
wonderful play of colors and forms, which it really was a pleasure to
observe. Then I went to sleep and the next day I was fine. I felt
quite fresh, like a newborn."

That day, April 19, has subsequently been celebrated by LSD
proponents as "Bicycle Day."

Hofmann's bosses did not believe the drug could be so powerful,
concluding that he had measured the dosage incorrectly. Two
laboratory assistants subsequently took doses only a fifth of what
Hofmann had consumed, and they too had powerful experiences.

LSD was initially hailed as a wonder drug for use in psychoanalysis,
particularly for gaining insights into schizophrenia; more than 2,000
research papers appeared over the succeeding decade.

The Central Intelligence Agency investigated LSD as a potential agent
for mind control, and the British government studied it as a truth
drug. In both cases, the drug was administered to subjects who were
not informed of its nature, leading to scandals and changes in
regulations about informed consent.

But in the 1960s, largely at the instigation of Harvard University
psychologists Timothy Leary and Richard Alpert, LSD began to be seen
first as a pathway to spiritual enlightenment, then as a major
recreational drug.

"Instead of a 'wonder child,' LSD suddenly became my 'problem child,'
" Hofmann said.

In 1966, the United States banned its use, followed by most other
countries. Nonetheless, some still consider it a promising drug, and
research continues on its medical potential.

Meanwhile, Hofmann read that American ethnologist Gordon Wasson had
discovered mushrooms that were used for ritual purposes by Indians
and that produced an LSD-like effect. Other researchers had little
success extracting the active ingredient, and a sample was sent to Basel.

Hofmann's initial tests in animals appeared to show no effect from
the mushrooms. Before discarding them, however, Hofmann decided to
sample them and had what he called "a full-blown LSD experience."

He and his assistants then isolated the active ingredients, using
themselves as guinea pigs. At every purification step, they would
consume the product to make sure it still contained the active agent.

Ultimately, they isolated two active ingredients, which Hofmann named
psilocybin and psilocin because they had been isolated from Psilocybe
mexicana. They turned out to be about 1% as active as LSD.

On a later visit to Mexico, Hofmann gave a bottle of psilocybin
tablets to Maria Sabina, the shaman who had originally given the
mushrooms to Wasson. "When we left, Maria Sabina told us that the
tablets really contained the spirit of the mushrooms," Hofmann said.

On that visit, Hofmann collected a batch of morning glory seeds that
the natives called ololiuqui. Using the same approach as with the
mushrooms, he isolated the active ingredients and found them to be
lysergic acid monoamide and lysergic acid hydroxyethylamide. "They
were derivatives of lysergic acid that I had on my shelf through my
studies with LSD," he said.

Once again, his colleagues didn't believe him because the lysergic
acid derivatives came from a species completely different from ergot.
They assumed that his final products were contaminants introduced in
the laboratory. And once again he was shown to be correct.

By this time, LSD had developed its negative reputation, and Sandoz
decided it no longer wanted anything to do with ergot derivatives.

But Hofmann's life had already been altered. LSD and the other
psychoactive drugs "changed my life, insofar as they provided me with
a new concept about what reality is," he said. "Before, I had
believed there was only one reality: the reality of everyday life.

"Under LSD, however, I entered into realities which were as real and
even more real than the one of everyday." He also "became aware of
the wonder of creation, the magnificence of nature and of the plant
and animal kingdom. I became very sensitive to what will happen to
all this and all of us."

After dozens of acid trips, Hofmann finally gave up psychedelics. "I
know LSD; I don't need to take it anymore," he said.

Hofmann is survived by his wife, Anita; two daughters; a son;eight
grandchildren; and six great-grandchildren.
--

thomas.maugh@latimes.com

--------

Albert Hofmann: 1906-2008

http://blogs.guardian.co.uk/music/2008/04/albert_hofmann_1906-2008.html

The true legacy of the inventor of LSD, who died yesterday aged 102,
is in the music, literature and visual arts that were produced as a
result of acid

by Ben Myers
April 30, 2008

Which individual exerted the biggest influence on underground culture
in the 20th century? I'll give you some clues as to my suggestion:
he's Swiss, a scientist, the average man on the street hasn't heard
of him, and he died yesterday at the ripe old age of 102.

Albert Hofmann (1906 - 2008) was a chemical pioneer whose place in
history has been assured as the inventor - or rather, synthesiser -
of lysergic acid diethylamide, better known as LSD or acid. After
accidentally ingesting some of the substance in his laboratory in
1938, Hofmann unlocked the hallucinatory powers of this drug that he
called "medicine for the soul". A true scientist, he re-checked his
findings three days later by taking a heroic dose just before his
bicycle ride home. What a dude.

Hofmann became a life-long exponent of the benefits of psychedelics.
It was, he pointed out, a drug that was used in psychoanalysis for
years, before being hijacked by the counterculture movement that
emerged in the 60s, then subsequently demonised by the establishment,
which saw it as a catalyst for major social change.

LSD and Hofmann's true legacy, though, is in the art that was
produced as a result. Music, literature and the visual arts have all
benefited from its input. I'm not saying drugs make for better
culture, but more than any other drug acid, is responsible for
altering perceptions and recalibrating minds. The last time I took it
I ended up naked, vomit-flecked and chuckling, the world's worst poem
scrawled into a notebook. But for every me, there has been a William
S Burroughs, Robert Crumb or a 13th Floor Elevators.

There's not enough room here to list acid's full effect on the arts,
but consider if you will that the following would never have happened
as they did were it not for Hofmann and his drug: clubs, rave or
happenings such as Andy Warhol's Exploding Plastic Inevitable, the
UFO, the Paradise Garage, Shoom and the Hacienda, obvious band
choices such as the Beatles, the Byrds, the Doors, Jimi Hendrix, Soft
Machine, Pink Floyd, the Grateful Dead, Sly and the Family Stone,
Miles Davis, the Teardrop Explodes, Butthole Surfers and the Orb, and
literally hundreds of others (including less obvious ones too, such
as famously straight-edged Henry Rollins, who back in the mid 80s was
fond of tripping), through to contemporary bands such as Muse, the
Mars Volta and Klaxons, not to mention the entire acid rock, prog and
rave/acid house and ambient genres.

Then there is literature or publications such as The Teachings Of Don
Juan by Carlos Castaneda, the writings of Terence McKenna, Aldous
Huxley, Ken Kesey and Irvine Welsh, International Times, Oz, The
Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers and countless others.

Acid has infiltrated movies, the media and fashion too, none more so
than today when fluorescent colours and smiley faces are all the (nu)
rave with today's fashionistas, while a study of psychedelic art
would warrant a separate article entirely. Honorable mentions go to
Giger, Dali, Escher and the anonymous chemists who decorated their
blotters of acid with an array of imaginative insignias. And to
Santana's Abraxas.

More interestingly, with visual imagery that made most design work
look archaic at the time and a new emerging demographic of users,
acid was quickly co-opted by the corporate advertising world to sell
anything and everything, from Campbell's soup ("Turn your wall
souper-delic!") to Clearasil. Soon psychedelic became a byword for youth.

It continues today - in digital-psychedelic art, in raves the world
over, in the symbiosis of technology and hallucinogenics. Kurt
Vonnegut called the internet "a particularly habit-forming,
hallucinatory, pernicious form of LSD". So maybe the net is the spawn
of acid culture too.

Either way, Albert Hofmann lived a long and fruitful life - and
accidentally changed the world.

--------

Albert Hofmann

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/1912485/Albert-Hofmann,-LSD-inventor,-dies.html

30/04/2008

Albert Hofmann, who died on Tuesday aged 102, synthesised lysergic
acid diethylamide (LSD) in 1938 and became the first person in the
world to experience a full-blown acid trip.

The day, April 19 1943, became known among aficionados as "Bicycle
Day" as it was while cycling home from his laboratory that he
experienced the most intense symptoms.

Hofmann was working as a research chemist in the laboratory of the
Sandoz Company (now Novartis) in Basel, Switzerland, where he was
involved in studying the medicinal properties of plants. This
eventually led to the study of the alkaloid compounds of ergot, a
fungus which forms on rye.

In the Middle Ages, ergot was implicated in period outbreaks of mass
poisonings, producing symptoms in two characteristic forms, one
gangrenous (ergotismus gangraenosus) and the other convulsive
(ergotismus convulsivus).

Popular names such as "mal des ardents," "ignis sacer," "heiliges
Feuer," or "St Anthony's fire" ­ refer to the gangrenous form of the disease.

Hofmann's studies led to many new discoveries such as Hydergine, a
medicament for improvement of circulation and cerebral function and
Dihydergot, a circulation and blood pressure stabilising medicine.

His interest in synthesising LSD was stimulated at first by the hope
that it might also be useful as a circulatory and respiratory stimulant.

But when his molecule, known as LSD-25, was tested on animals, no
interesting effects were observed, though the research notes recorded
that the beasts became "restless" during narcosis. The substance was
dismissed as of no interest and dropped from Sandoz's research programme.

But five years later, acting on some intuition, Hofmann decided to
resynthesise LSD. In his autobiography, LSD, My Problem Child (1979),
he recalled that in the final stage of the synthesis, he was
interrupted by some unusual sensations.

In a note to the laboratory's director, he reported "a remarkable
restlessness, combined with a slight dizziness. At home I lay down
and sank into a not unpleasant intoxicated-like condition,
characterized by an extremely stimulated imagination.

"In a dreamlike state, with eyes closed, I perceived an uninterrupted
stream of fantastic pictures, extraordinary shapes with intense,
kaleidoscopic play of colours. After some two hours this condition
faded away."

Hofmann concluded that he must have accidentally breathed in or
ingested some laboratory material and assumed LSD was the cause. To
test the theory he waited until the next working day, Monday April 19
1943, and tried again, swallowing 0.25 of a milligram.

Forty minutes later, his laboratory journal recorded "dizziness,
feeling of anxiety, visual distortions, symptoms of paralysis, desire
to laugh".

Unable to write any more, he asked his assistant to take him home by
bicycle. "On the way home, my condition began to assume threatening forms.

"Everything in my field of vision wavered and was distorted as if
seen in a curved mirror. I also had the sensation of being unable to
move from the spot. Nevertheless, my assistant later told me that we
had travelled very rapidly."

Back home, when a friendly neighbour brought round some milk, he
perceived her as a "malevolent, insidious witch" wearing "a lurid
mask". After six hours of highs and lows, the effects subsided.

Sandoz, keen to make a profit from Hofman's discovery, gave the new
substance the trade name Delysid and began sending samples out to
psychiatric researchers.

By 1965 more than 2,000 papers had been published offering hope for a
range of conditions from drug and alcohol addiction to mental
illnesses of various sorts.

But the fact that it was cheap and easy to make left it open to abuse
and from the late 1950s onwards, promoted by Dr Timothy Leary and
others, LSD became the recreational drug of choice for alienated
western youth.

An outbreak of moral panic, combined with a number of accidents
involving people jumping to their deaths off high buildings thinking
they could fly, led governments around the world to ban LSD.

Research also showed that the drug taken in high doses and in
inappropriate settings, often caused panic reactions. For certain
individuals, a bad trip seemed to be the trigger for full-blown psychosis.

Hofmann was disappointed when his discovery was removed from
commercial distribution. He remained convinced that the drug had the
potential to counter the psychological problems induced by
"materialism, alienation from nature through industrialisation and
increasing urbanisation, lack of satisfaction in professional
employment in a mechanised, lifeless working world, ennui and
purposelessness in wealthy, saturated society, and lack of a
religious, nurturing, and meaningful philosophical foundation of life".

Albert Hofmann was born at Baden, Switzerland, on January 11 1906,
the elder of two children. Having graduated from Zürich University
with a degree in chemistry in 1929 he took a doctorate on the
gastro-intestinal juice of the vineyard snail.

After leaving university, he went to work for Sandoz Pharmaceuticals
where he researched the medicinal properties of the Mediterranean
squill (Scilla maritima), before moving on to the study of Claviceps
purpurea (ergot).

As a result of the use of LSD as a recreational drug Sandoz found
itself bombarded with demands for information from regulatory bodies
along with demands for statements after accidents, poisonings,
criminal acts and so forth from the press. For scientists
unaccustomed to the glare of publicity, it became a headache.

"I would rather you hadn't discovered LSD," Hofmann's managing
director told him. In the end the decision was taken to stop all
further production.

Hofmann laid some of the blame at the door of Dr Timothy Leary. In
his autobiography, he described meeting Leary in 1971 in the railway
station snack bar in Lausanne.

Hofmann began by voicing his regret that Leary's experiments had
effectively killed off academic research into LSD and took Leary to
task for encouraging its recreational use among young people. Leary
was unabashed.

"He maintained that I was unjustified in reproaching him for the
seduction of immature persons to drug consumption," Hofmann recalled,
on the ground that American teenagers "with regard to information and
life experience, were comparable to adult Europeans" and able to make
up their own minds.

Hofmann continued to work at Sandoz until 1971 when he retired as
Director of Research for the Department of Natural Products.

In addition to his discovery of LSD, he was also the first to
synthesize psilocybin (the active constituent of "magic mushrooms") in 1958.

He also discovered the hallucinogenic principles of Ololiuqui
(Morning Glory), lysergic acid amide and lysergic acid hydroxyethylamide.

In retirement, Hofmann served as a member of the Nobel Prize
Committee. He was a Fellow of the World Academy of Sciences, and a
Member of the International Society of Plant Research and of the
American Society of Pharmacognosy.

In 1988 the Albert Hofmann Foundation was established "to assemble
and maintain an international library and archive devoted to the
study of human consciousness and related fields."

He disapproved of the appropriation of LSD by the youth movements of
the 1960s, but regretted that its potential uses had not been
explored. He had been due to speak at the World Psychedelic Forum in
March, but ill health prevented him from attending.

Albert Hofmann was married and had three children.

--------

Health Blog Obit: Albert Hofmann, Father of LSD

http://blogs.wsj.com/health/2008/04/30/health-blog-obit-albert-hofmann-father-of-lsd/?mod=WSJBlog&mod=WSJBlog

April 30, 2008
Posted by Jacob Goldstein

Albert Hofmann, the drug-industry researcher who accidentally
discovered the powerful hallucinogen LSD, died yesterday of a heart
attack. He was 102.

Hofmann, who worked as a chemist at Sandoz (now part of Novartis),
first synthesized lysergic acid in 1938. But it was in 1943, when a
small amount of LSD accidentally dripped onto his hand, that he
stumbled upon the drug's mind-altering qualities, AP says.

"At home I lay down and sank into a not unpleasant intoxication-like
condition, characterised by an extremely stimulated imagination," he
wrote in his book LSD: My Problem Child.

"In a dreamlike state, with eyes closed (I found the daylight too
unpleasantly glaring), I perceived an uninterrupted stream of
fantastic pictures, extraordinary shapes with intense, kaleidoscopic
play of colours. After some two hours this condition faded away."

Not long after, Hofmann went back for more ­ and had a rather
different experience:

"On the way home, my condition began to assume threatening forms.
Everything in my field of vision wavered and was distorted as if seen
in a curved mirror," he wrote. "A demon had invaded me, had taken
possession of my body, mind, and soul. I jumped up and screamed,
trying to free myself from him, but then sank down again and lay
helpless on the sofa. The substance, with which I had wanted to
experiment, had vanquished me."

That wasn't enough to stop Hofmann, who with his colleagues came to
believe that the drug could be useful in giving psychiatric patients
insights into their illness. Sandoz sold LSD under the brand name
Delysid, encouraging doctors to try it themselves, the AP reports.

He also thought the drug could help healthy people feel the the deep
connection between the individual and the external world that he
first felt as a child, wandering in the hills above his Swiss home,
the NYT says.

Though he never gave up on that belief, he wrote that the "huge wave
of an inebriant mania that began to spread over the Western world,
above all the United States, at the end of the 1950s" caused the drug
to be used in a reckless, unsupervised manner that led to problems.
LSD was banned in the U.S. in 1966, the Los Angeles Times says, and
other countries followed suit.

Hofmann retired from Sandoz in 1971, and lived in good health for
decades, Washington Post says. When he turned 100, Hofmann told a
reporter that he attributed his longevity not to his many LSD trips,
but to the raw egg he consumed every day.

--------

Father of LSD, Albert Hofmann, Dies at 102

http://laist.com/2008/04/29/albert_hofmann.php

April 29, 2008
By Andy Sternberg

Albert Hofmann, the Swiss chemist who discovered LSD, died at his
home near Basel, Switzerland on Tuesday.

Hofmann synthesized lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD-25) in 1938 and
five years later became the first person to experience a full-blown acid trip.

On April 16, 1943, Hofmann inadvertently absorbed a little LSD-25
compound in his fingertips at the Sandoz laboratory (now Novartis)
where he worked. In a note to the lab director he described what happened next:

"I was forced to interrupt my work in the laboratory in the middle of
the afternoon and proceed home, being affected by a remarkable
restlessness, combined with a slight dizziness. At home I lay down
and sank into a not unpleasant intoxicated-like condition,
characterized by an extremely stimulated imagination.

"In a dreamlike state, with eyes closed, I perceived an uninterrupted
stream of fantastic pictures, extraordinary shapes with intense,
kaleidoscopic play of colours. After some two hours this condition
faded away."

The following Monday -- y'know, to verify the side-effects -- Hofmann
ingested 1/4mg of the drug and asked his assistant to ride him home
on his bicycle once the effects began to kick in:

"Everything in my field of vision wavered and was distorted as if
seen in a curved mirror. I also had the sensation of being unable to
move from the spot. Nevertheless, my assistant later told me that we
had travelled very rapidly."

Sandoz initially tried to profit from Hofmann's invention, although
later his managing director famously said: "I would rather you hadn't
discovered LSD."

By the early 1950s, LSD made it to campus -- for academic and
research purposes. Dr. Sidney Cohen commissioned three UCLA doctoral
dissertations in which at least 80 "members of academia" tested the
psychotic and psychedelic effects of the drug.

British author Aldous Huxley, who spent the last 25 years of his life
in Los Angeles, first took acid in 1955 and later had it injected
while on his death bed.

And then there was Timothy Leary, Ginsberg, Kesey, our aunts and
uncles, and you and me.

The Albert Hofmann Foundation was established in Santa Monica in 1988
to "further the understanding and responsible application of
psychedelic substances in the investigation of both individual and
collective consciousness."

Hofmann called LSD "medicine for the soul." In a 2006 NYT interview he said:

"I know LSD; I don't need to take it anymore.... Maybe when I die,
like Aldous Huxley."

--------

'Father' of LSD dies at 102

http://www.cnn.com/2008/US/04/29/hofmann.obit.ap/index.html

April 29, 2008

Albert Hofmann, father of the mind-altering drug LSD whose medical
discovery grew into a notorious "problem child," died Tuesday. He was 102.

Hofmann died of a heart attack at his home in Basel, Switzerland,
according to Rick Doblin, president of the Multidisciplinary
Association for Psychedelic Studies, in a statement posted on the
association's Web site.

Hofmann's hallucinogen inspired -- and arguably corrupted -- millions
in the 1960's hippie generation. For decades after LSD was banned in
the late 1960s, Hofmann defended his invention.

"I produced the substance as a medicine. ... It's not my fault if
people abused it," he said.

The Swiss chemist discovered lysergic acid diethylamide-25 in 1938
while studying the medicinal uses of a fungus found on wheat and
other grains at the Sandoz pharmaceuticals firm in Basel.

He became the first human guinea pig of the drug when a tiny amount
of the substance seeped onto his finger during a repeat of the
laboratory experiment April 16, 1943.

"I had to leave work for home because I was suddenly hit by a sudden
feeling of unease and mild dizziness," he wrote in a memo to company bosses.

"Everything I saw was distorted as in a warped mirror," he said,
describing his bicycle ride home. "I had the impression I was rooted
to the spot. But my assistant told me we were actually going very fast."

Three days later, Hofmann experimented with a larger dose. The result
was a horror trip.

"The substance which I wanted to experiment with took over me. I was
filled with an overwhelming fear that I would go crazy. I was
transported to a different world, a different time," Hofmann wrote.

There was no answer at Hofmann's home Tuesday, and a person who
answered the phone at Novartis, a former employer, said the company
had no knowledge of his death.

Hofmann and his scientific colleagues hoped that LSD would make an
important contribution to psychiatric research. The drug exaggerated
inner problems and conflicts, and thus it was hoped that it might be
used to recognize and treat mental illness like schizophrenia.

For a time, Sandoz sold LSD 25 under the name Delysid, encouraging
doctors to try it themselves. It was one of the strongest drugs in
medicine, with just one gram enough to drug an estimated 10,000 to
20,000 people for 12 hours.

Hofmann discovered that the drug had a similar chemical structure to
psychedelic mushrooms and herbs used in religious ceremonies by
Mexican Indians.

LSD was elevated to international fame in the late 1950s and 1960s,
thanks to Harvard professor Timothy Leary, who embraced the drug
under the slogan "turn on, tune in, drop out." Actor Cary Grant and
numerous rock musicians extolled its virtues in achieving true self
discovery and enlightenment.

But away from the psychedelic trips and flower children, horror
stories emerged about people going on murder sprees or jumping out of
windows while hallucinating. Heavy users suffered permanent
psychological damage.

The U.S. government banned LSD in 1966, and other countries followed suit.

Hofmann maintained that this was unfair, arguing that the drug was
not addictive. He repeatedly said the ban should be lifted to allow
LSD to be used in medical research.

He himself took the drug -- purportedly on an occasional basis and
out of scientific interest -- for several decades.

"LSD can help open your eyes," he once said. "But there are other
ways: meditation, dance, music, fasting."

Even so, the self-described "father" of LSD readily agreed that the
drug was dangerous if in the wrong hands. This was reflected by the
title of his 1979 book: "LSD: My Problem Child."

Hofmann retired from Sandoz in 1971. He devoted his time to travel,
writing and lectures, which often reflected his growing interest with
philosophy and religious questions.

He lived in a small village in the Swiss Jura mountains and remained
active until his early 90's.

-------

Albert Hofmann, 102; Chemist Discovered LSD

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/04/29/AR2008042902738_pf.html

By Adam Bernstein
Washington Post Staff Writer
Wednesday, April 30, 2008; B07

Albert Hofmann, 102, a Swiss chemist and accidental father of LSD who
came to view the much-vilified and abused hallucinogen he discovered
in 1938 as his "problem child," died April 29 at his home in Burg, a
village near Basel, Switzerland, after a heart attack.

His death was confirmed by Rick Doblin, the Boston-based founder of
the Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies, a
nonprofit pharmaceutical company developing LSD and other
psychedelics for prescription medicines.

Lysergic acid diethylamide, thousands of times stronger than
mescaline, can give its user an experience often described as
psychedelic -- a kaleidoscopic twirling of the mind pulsating with
color and movement.

After its discovery, LSD was viewed as a wonder drug with the
potential to treat problems including schizophrenia and alcoholism.
For the latter, some held the theory that chronic drinkers quit only
after experiencing the hallucinations of delirium tremens.

LSD attracted many prominent advocates. They included Aldous Huxley,
author of "Brave New World," and psychologist Timothy Leary, who saw
the drug as a potent way for people to live up to his 1960s
counterculture motto: "Turn on, tune in, drop out."

The CIA was also widely reported to have used LSD in experiments on
unwitting subjects. This, and greater recreational use that caused
some fatal overdoses, led to the widespread condemnation of the drug
and, by the early 1970s, its criminalization. As a result, research
permission and funding from state and federal agencies was terminated.

In Dr. Hofmann's opinion, outlawing LSD made its use even more
attractive to young people and diminished any safeguards. He spoke of
many hippies stopping by his home on the way to their spiritual
quest, hoping to score from his "secret stash."

Dr. Hofmann came across LSD while working on medicinal uses of a
fungus to act as a circulatory heart-lung stimulant. His first LSD
"trip" occurred in 1943, a troubling experience that led him to write
in his journal, "A demon had invaded me, had taken possession of my
body, mind and soul."

Dr. Hofmann remained wary of LSD's recreational uses as well as its
portrayal in the media.

"I was not surprised that it became a ritual drug in the youth
anti-establishment movement, but I was shocked by irresponsible use
that resulted in mental catastrophes," he told Playboy magazine in
2006. "That's what gave the health authorities a pretext for totally
prohibiting its production, possession and use."

Albert Hofmann was born Jan. 11, 1906, in Baden, Switzerland. He was
the oldest of four children, and after his father, a toolmaker, fell
seriously ill, he was forced as a teenager to seek a commercial
apprenticeship to support the family.

While learning a trade, he continued his private schooling with
financial help from his godfather. In 1930, he received a doctorate
from the University of Zurich, where he studied the chemistry of
plants and animals, and he joined the pharmaceutical-chemical firm
Sandoz (now Novartis) in Basel.

Among his early accomplishments was the synthesis of an alkaloid that
prompted uterine contractions to stop postpartum bleeding.

In 1938, he was exploring a circulatory heart-lung stimulant when he
happened on LSD-25 while conducting purification and crystallization
experiments on the fungus ergot, which grows on rye. Ergot had been
long used to induce childbirth.

Lysergic acid is an active part of therapeutically essential ergot
alkaloids, and Dr. Hofmann began combining it with other molecules
for his research.

At the time, LSD showed little effect on lab animals besides some
agitation. It was shelved for five years until he, on a hunch,
repeated the experiment to help him with another medical study.

Having unknowingly absorbed some of the compound, he experienced a
dizzying sensation that also made him restless.

He wrote in a journal about this first known encounter: "At home I
lay down and sank into a not unpleasant intoxicated-like condition,
characterized by an extremely stimulated imagination.

"In a dreamlike state, with eyes closed (I found the daylight to be
unpleasantly glaring), I perceived an uninterrupted stream of
fantastic pictures, extraordinary shapes with intense, kaleidoscopic
play of colors. After some two hours this condition faded away."

Three days later, April 19, he bicycled home after consuming 250
micrograms of LSD in a now-famous "trip" that has become known as
Bicycle Day. The route he took home was later named in his honor.

That time, he said, he felt some of the darker symptoms of the drug:
a feeling of impending death, of possession by the devil, of feeling
violently threatened by family and neighbors. Above all, he wrote, "I
was seized by the dreadful fear of going insane."

As he continued to study the drug, Dr. Hofmann struck up a
correspondence with German novelist Ernst Junger, who had
experimented with mescaline. At Dr. Hofmann's home in 1951, the
scientist administered .05 of a milligram of LSD to Junger and
himself as they were surrounded by violet roses, Japanese incense and
a Mozart concerto for flute and harp.

"Ernst Junger enjoyed the color display of oriental images," he later
wrote. "I was on a trip among Berber tribes in North Africa, saw
colored caravans and lush oases."

Further controlled experimentation by University of Zurich scientists
on humans subjects -- some with psychiatric problems -- showed a
similar calming reaction. This led Sandoz to manufacture LSD under
the trade name Delysid by the late 1940s.

It entered the U.S. market and, during the next two decades, LSD was
intensely researched as a drug to treat all manner of emotional and
addictive disorders. Humphry F. Osmond, a British-born psychiatrist,
introduced the word "psychedelic" to describe the effects of
mescaline and LSD while corresponding with Huxley in 1956.

Dr. Hofmann wrote in a 1980 book, "LSD, My Problem Child," that LSD
brought him the "same happiness and gratification that any
pharmaceutical chemist would feel on learning that a substance he or
she produced might possibly develop into a valuable medicament."

But he said he was increasingly disturbed by a "huge wave of an
inebriant mania that began to spread over the Western world, above
all the United States, at the end of the 1950s. . . . The more
[LSD's] use as an inebriant was disseminated, bringing an upsurge in
the number of untoward incidents caused by careless, medically
unsupervised use, the more LSD became a problem child for me and for
the Sandoz firm."

He described meeting Leary in September 1971 at a railway station
snack bar in Lausanne; Leary was living in Switzerland. He said they
had a cordial but strong exchange of words in which Dr. Hofmann
criticized Leary's self-promotion and his "propagation of LSD use"
among impressionable young people.

Dr. Hofmann said that Leary said that American teenagers "with regard
to information and life experience, were comparable to adult
Europeans. . . . For that reason, he deemed the LSD experience
significant, useful, and enriching, even for people still very young in years."

Dr. Hofmann headed the research department for natural medicines at
Sandoz before retiring in 1971. At the company in the 1950s and
1960s, he discovered and named many of the active hallucinogenic
ingredients in Mexican "magic mushrooms," including psilocybin and
psilocin. He was credited with important developments in medications
for geriatric and gynecological uses as well as drugs to control
blood pressure.

He was a member of the Nobel Prize Committee and a fellow of the
World Academy of Sciences. He was a prolific writer of scientific
articles and the author of several books, many of which tried to bind
the scientific with the spiritual. In particular, he denounced the
demonization of LSD after hippies and societal dropouts seemed to
have monopolized the media's focus.

In his 1989 book "Insight Outlook," he wrote that LSD taken by
"mentally stable persons in the right set and setting" was suited to
the Western world, which he saw rife with "materialism, estrangement
from nature, . . . [and] the missing of a sense-making philosophical
fundamentalness of life."

His 100th birthday was celebrated in Basel as a referendum on his
greatest discovery. He attended the conference, "LSD: Problem Child
and Wonder Drug," and told one reporter that it was his daily diet of
a raw egg that kept him spry, not, as many LSD enthusiasts suspected,
his long-ago experiments.

His wife of more than 70 years, Anita Hofmann, died in December. One
son died years earlier.

Survivors include three children.

--------

Albert Hofmann, 11 January 1006 – 29 April 2008

An Obituary by Dieter A. Hagenbach and Lucius Wertmüller

http://www.gaiamedia.org/content/english/allgemein/main_e_06_medien.html?/content/english/templates_06_medien/article_e_hofmann.html

4|30|08

At the age of 102 years, Albert Hofmann died peacefully last Tuesday
morning, 29th April, in his home near Basel, Switzerland. Still last
weekend we talked to him, and he expressed his great joy about the
blooming plants and the fresh green of the meadows and trees around
his house. His vitality and his open mind conducted him until his last breath.
He is reputed to be one of the most important chemists of our times.
He is the discoverer of LSD, which he considers, up to date, as both
a "wonder drug" and a "problem child". In addition he did pioneering
work as a researcher of other psychoactive substances as well as
active agents of important medicinal plants and mushrooms. Under the
spell of the consciousness-expanding potential of LSD the scientist
turned increasingly into a philosopher of nature and a visionary
critical of contemporary culture.
Until his death Albert Hofmann remained active. He communicated with
colleagues and experts from all over the world, gave interviews, and
showed great interest in the world's affairs, although he decided to
retire from public life already a few years ago. Nevertheless he
welcomed visitors at his home on the Rittimatte, and opened the door
for late in the evening.
He managed to keep his almost childlike curiosity for the wonders of
nature and creation. In his "paradise," as he would call his home, he
enjoyed being close to nature, especially to plants. During one of
our last visits he said to us with luminous eyes: "The Rittimatte is
my second most important discovery." It was always a unique
experience to stroll with him over his meadows and to share his
enjoying the living nature all around.
Gratefully and lovingly we grieve for an outstanding scientist, an
important philosopher, a dear and true friend, and our member of the board.

Albert Hofmann was born on January 1906 in the quiet small town of
Baden, Switzerland, as the eldest one of four children. His father is
a toolmaker in a factory where he meets Albert's mother-to-be; when
he falls seriously ill, Albert has to support the family. That's why
he decides for a commercial apprenticeship. At the same time he
starts studying Latin and other languages, since he wants to take his
A-levels, which he succeeds in at a private school, paid for by a godfather.
In 1926, at the age of twenty, Albert Hofmann begins to study
chemistry at the University of Zurich. Four years later he does his
doctorate with distinction. Subsequently he works at the Sandoz
pharmaceutical-chemical research laboratory in Basel, a company to
which he proves his loyalty for more than four uninterrupted decades.
(In 1996 Sandoz and Ciba-Geigy merged to become Novartis.) That's
where he mainly works with medicinal plants and mushrooms. He's
specifically interested in alkaloids (nitrogen compounds) of ergot, a
cereal fungus. In 1938 he isolates the basic component of all
therapeutically essential ergot alkaloids, lysergic acid; he mixes it
with a series of chemicals. He then tests the effects of the thus
derived lysergic acid derivatives as circulatory and respiratory
stimulant – among others LSD-25 (Lysergic acid diethylamide). Because
the effects observed fell short of expectations, however, the
pharmacologists at Sandoz quickly lose interest in it.
Five years later, following a "peculiar presentiment," Albert Hofmann
devotes himself again to LSD-25. On 16 April 1943, while
synthesizing, he is overcome by unusual sensations – "a remarkable
restlessness, combined with a slight dizziness," – which prompt him
to interrupt his laboratory work. "At home I lay down and sank into a
not unpleasant intoxication like condition, characterized by an
extremely stimulated imagination. In a dreamlike state, with eyes
closed (I found the daylight too unpleasantly glaring), I perceived
an uninterrupted stream of fantastic pictures, extraordinary shapes
with intense, kaleidoscopic play of colors. After some two hours this
condition faded away."
Three days later, on 19 April 1943, Hofmann sets out for the first
voluntary LSD trip in the history of man. Because he cannot yet judge
the enormous efficacy of the drug, he takes, at 4:20 pm, with 250
microgram a relatively high dose – and gets to know the
hallucinogenic power of the substance with all its intensity.
With his discovery of LSD Albert Hofmann has caused a snowball
effect, which turns into an avalanche in no time. It influences the
late second millennium – at least in the Western world – to an
extent, comparable only to the "pill". Consciousness researchers
respectfully spoke of an "atom bomb of the mind."
To worldwide setting-in research Albert Hofmann makes essential
contributions. So he is, in 1958, the first one to succeed in
isolating the psychoactive substances psilocybin and psilocin from
Mexican magic mushrooms (Psilocybe mexicana); in Ololiuqui, the seeds
of a climbing plant, he finds substances related to LSD. He isolates
and synthesizes substances of important medicinal plants in order to
study their effects. His basic research blesses Sandoz with several
successful remedies: Hydergine, an effective one in geriatrics,
Dihydergot, a circulation- and blood-pressure stabilizing medicament,
and Methergine, an active agent applied in gynecology. Hofmann stays
with Sandoz until his retirement in 1971, last as head of the
research department for natural medicines. From then on he devotes
more and more of his time to writing and lecturing. He increasingly
wins recognition for his scientific pioneering ventures: he is given
honorary doctorates by the ETH Zurich, the Stockholm university, and
the Berlin Free University; and he is called into the Nobel Prize Committee.
Here, outstanding contributions to research were honored – but Albert
Hofmann's life's work comprises much more. From the start he took a
favorable view of efforts by physicians and psychotherapists to
include LSD into new approaches for the treatment of manifold chronic
diseases. But LSD isn't only useful with special diagnoses – it's
Hofmann's firm belief that the "psychedelic" potential of this
"wonder drug" could be beneficial to all of us. In LSD-induced
altered states of consciousness its discoverer doesn't only see
psychotic delusions of a chemically manipulated mind, but windows to
a higher reality – true spiritual experiences during which a normally
deeply buried potential of our mind, the heavenly element of
creation, our unity with it reveals itself. "The one-sided belief in
the scientific view of life is based on a far-reaching
misunderstanding," Hofmann says in his book Insight – Outlook.
"Certainly, everything it contains is real – but this represents just
one half of reality; only its material, quantifiable part. It lacks
all those spiritual dimensions which cannot be described in physical
or chemical terms; and it's exactly these which include the most
important characteristics of all life."
It's not the single consumer alone who profits from chemicals which
help to understand these aspects of the world; for Hofmann it could
help to heal deficits the Western world chronically suffers from:
"Materialism, estrangement from nature (...), lack of professional
fulfillment in a mechanized, lifeless world of employment, boredom
and aimlessness in a rich, saturated society, the missing of a
sense-making philosophical fundamentalness of life." Starting from
experiences as LSD conveys them, we could "develop a new awareness of
reality" which "could become the basis of a spirituality that's not
founded on the dogmas of existing religions, but on insights into a
higher and profounder sense" – on that we recognize, read, and
understand "the revelations of the book which God's finger wrote."
When such insights "become established in our collective
consciousness, it could arise from that, that scientific research and
the previous destroyers of nature – technology and industry – will
serve the purpose of changing back our world into what it formerly
was: into an earthly Garden of Eden."
With this message the genius chemist turns into a profound
philosopher of nature and visionary critical of contemporary culture.
The critical distance from the LSD euphoria of the hippie- and flower
power-driven ones Albert Hofmann has never given up, however; that he
has fathered a "problem child" he already emphasizes with the title
of one of his most known works. He always underlines the risks of an
uncontrolled intake. On the other hand he never tires of emphasizing
what's the basic difference between LSD and most of the other drugs:
even if used repeatedly, it doesn't make addictive; it doesn't reduce
one's awareness; taken in a normal dose it's absolutely non-toxic.
The total demonizing of psychedelics, as pursued by the mass media,
conservative politicians, and governments from the sixties onward, he
never could understand; for him, there is no reason why mentally
stable persons in the right set and setting shouldn't enjoy LSD. All
the more disappointed Albert Hofmann was when, in the late sixties,
he had to see it happen that the use of LSD was worldwide
criminalized and prohibited – even for therapeutic and research purposes
The impetus for a change emanating from the impact of the
international Symposium "LSD – Problem Child and Wonder Drug" in 2006
in Basel, at the occasion of his 100th birthday, quickened him to say
that "after this conference my problem child has definitely turned
into a wonder child," and he regarded this development as his most
beautiful birthday present.
And after just shortly before his 102nd birthday, he enjoyed taking
notice that the first LSD study with humans has received the
permission from the Federal Office of Public Health in Bern, which he
called the "fulfillment of my heart's desire."
His life has become an ideal for many for how we can reach a great
age in mental and physical vigor by retaining a childlike curiosity.
Albert Hofmann repeatedly expressed his conviction, that his mystical
experiences and his trips into other worlds of consciousness, which
he experienced first spontaneously as a child and later during his
experiments with psychedelic substances would be the best
preparations for the last journey which everybody has to go on at the
end of her or his life. He has retained his curiosity for himself for
his last journey.

--------

Albert Hofmann, father of drug LSD, dies in Switzerland

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/n/a/2008/04/29/state/n193020D35.DTL

By FRANK JORDANS, Associated Press Writer
Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Albert Hofmann, the father of the mind-altering drug LSD whose
medical discovery inspired ­ and arguably corrupted ­ millions in the
1960s hippie generation, has died. He was 102.

Hofmann died Tuesday at his home in Burg im Leimental, said Doris
Stuker, a municipal clerk in the village near Basel where Hofmann
moved following his retirement in 1971.

For decades after LSD was banned in the late 1960s, Hofmann defended
his invention.

"I produced the substance as a medicine. ... It's not my fault if
people abused it," he once said.

The Swiss chemist discovered lysergic acid diethylamide-25 in 1938
while studying the medicinal uses of a fungus found on wheat and
other grains at the Sandoz pharmaceuticals firm in Basel.

He became the first human guinea pig of the drug when a tiny amount
of the substance seeped onto his finger during a laboratory
experiment on April 16, 1943.

"I had to leave work for home because I was suddenly hit by a sudden
feeling of unease and mild dizziness," he subsequently wrote in a
memo to company bosses.

He said his initial experience resulted in "wonderful visions."

"What I was thinking appeared in colors and in pictures," he told a
Swiss television network for a program marking his 100th birthday two
years ago. "It lasted for a couple of hours and then it disappeared."

Three days later, Hofmann experimented with a larger dose. The result
was a horror trip.

"Everything I saw was distorted as in a warped mirror," he said,
describing his bicycle ride home. "I had the impression I was rooted
to the spot. But my assistant told me we were actually going very fast."

"The substance which I wanted to experiment with took over me. I was
filled with an overwhelming fear that I would go crazy. I was
transported to a different world, a different time," Hofmann wrote.

Hofmann and his scientific colleagues hoped that LSD would make an
important contribution to psychiatric research. The drug exaggerated
inner problems and conflicts and thus it was hoped that it might be
used to recognize and treat mental illnesses like schizophrenia.

For a time, Sandoz sold LSD 25 under the name Delysid, encouraging
doctors to try it themselves. It was one of the strongest drugs in
medicine ­ with just one gram enough to drug an estimated 10,000 to
20,000 people for 12 hours.

LSD was elevated to international fame in the late 1950s and 1960s
thanks to Harvard professor Timothy Leary who embraced the drug under
the slogan "turn on, tune in, drop out."

But away from the psychedelic trips, horror stories emerged about
people going on murder sprees or jumping out of windows while
hallucinating. Heavy users suffered permanent psychological damage.

The U.S. government banned LSD in 1966 and other countries followed suit.

Hofmann maintained this was unfair, arguing that the drug was not
addictive. He repeatedly argued for the ban to be lifted to allow LSD
to be used in medical research.

Peter Oehen, a psychiatrist in the Swiss town of Biberist, says
substances such as LSD and MDMA ­ also known as ecstasy ­ can produce
results where conventional psychotherapies fail.

"They help overcome the wall of denial that some patients build up,"
said Oehen, who met Hofmann and has studied his work.

Hofmann welcomed a decision by Swiss authorities last December to
allow LSD to be used in a psychotherapy research project.

"For me, this is a very big wish come true. I always wanted to see
LSD get its proper place in medicine," he told Swiss TV at the time.

Hofmann took the drug ­ purportedly on an occasional basis and out of
scientific interest ­ for several decades.

"LSD can help open your eyes," he once said. "But there are other
ways ­ meditation, dance, music, fasting."

Even so, the self described "father" of LSD readily agreed that the
drug was dangerous if in the wrong hands. This was reflected by the
title of his 1979 book: "LSD - my problem child."

In it he wrote that, "The history of LSD to date amply demonstrates
the catastrophic consequences that can ensue when its profound effect
is misjudged and the substance is mistaken for a pleasure drug."

Hofmann retired from Sandoz in 1971 and devoted his time to travel,
writing and lectures.

"This is really a high point in my advanced age," Hofmann said at a
ceremony in Basel honoring him on his 100th birthday. "You could say
it is a consciousness-raising experience without LSD."

Funeral arrangements were not immediately available.

.

UN inspector is key May 4 event speaker

UN inspector is key May 4 event speaker

http://www.ohio.com/lifestyle/18324359.html

Academic symposium to be skipped this year

Published on Monday, Apr 28, 2008
Beacon Journal staff report

The former top weapons inspector for the United Nations will be the
keynote speaker at the 38th annual May 4 commemoration at Kent State
University.

Scott Ritter, 46, has become a well-known anti-war figure and talk
show commentator since resigning in 1998 from the U.N. Special
Commission, which was charged with finding and destroying all weapons
of mass destruction in Iraq.

Ritter's comments will be the highlight of the noon events Sunday on
the KSU campus commons to mark the deaths of four and wounding of
nine students on May 4, 1970, by National Guardsmen at the height of
the Vietnam War.

As in previous years, the student-led commemoration will include a
silent candlelight march at 11 p.m. May 3 and a silent candlelight
vigil in the Prentice Hall parking lot in the early morning hours of May 4.

In addition to Ritter, Sunday's program will feature Emily Kunstler,
daughter of Bill Kunstler, a lawyer who represented the families of
the May 4 victims; Dean Kahler and Joe Lewis, former students who
were wounded in the shootings; and Ron Kovic, the anti-war activist
and author of Born on the Fourth of July. He also spoke at KSU's May
4 ceremony in 1998.

Because of scheduling conflicts, the university will not hold its
usual symposium to mark the anniversary of the shootings, but will
host the appearance of a journalist and political analyst.

Juan Williams will talk about changing societal, educational and
economic issues at 1 p.m. Wednesday in the Kiva of the Kent Student Center.

His speech, ''The Changing Face of America,'' will explore the
effects of money, race and aging in the new century.

Williams spent 21 years at the Washington Post as an editorial
writer, columnist and White House reporter. He also wrote a biography
of Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall and other books on civil
rights, including the nonfiction bestseller Eyes on the Prize:
America's Civil Rights Years, 1954-1965.

The university plans to return to its academic symposium on democracy
next spring, with the theme ''Media, Memory and History.'' A key
speaker in 2009 will be Jay Winter, the Charles J. Stille professor
of history at Yale University.

.

The Future of Psychedelics

The Future of Psychedelics

http://commongroundmag.com/2008/05/pinchbeck0805.html

by Daniel Pinchbeck
May 2008

The 2008 World Psychedelic Forum was an almost shockingly respectable
affair. Held in Basel, Switzerland, in a spacious convention center
next to the five-star Swissôtel Basel, the event drew 1,500 visitors
for a two-day symposium on the past and present state of psychedelic
thought and research. Despite flashes of eccentricity and DayGlo, you
could have easily thought you were at a conference for alternative
medicine or some abstruse but uncontroversial hobby. I felt honored
to be one of the speakers, part of a high-profile group which
included the Czech LSD researcher and theorist Stanislav Grof; Ralph
Metzner, a well-known author and teacher and one of Leary's original
partners at Harvard; botanists Dennis McKenna, Christian Raetsch and
Kat Harrison; MAPS director Rick Doblin; anthropologist and author
Jeremy Narby; visionary artists Alex and Allyson Grey; and many more.

The Gaia Media Foundation organized the forum, following upon their
successful LSD conference, marking the 100th birthday of LSD chemist
Albert Hofmann, two years ago. The 2008 event mingled nostalgia and
insularity, futurism and hope, in equal measures. On the nostalgia
side, Timothy Leary's archivist Michael Horowitz mounted an exhibit
of psychedelic art and media imagery, much of it from the heyday of
late-sixties flower power, while Carolyn (Mountain Girl) Garcia gave
a heartfelt speech about her journeys with the Merry Pranksters and
the early Haight Ashbury days of the Grateful Dead. Although Hofmann
is still alive, he declined to attend the festivities. A proper Swiss
bourgeois, he didn't approve of the conference being scheduled for
Easter weekend.

Sixty-five years since Hofmann's first accidental dose, new frontiers
in psychedelic research are opening up, represented at the Forum by
an array of therapists and scientists from institutions across
Europe, the U.S. and Canada. After a 35-year blockade on the subject,
psychedelic research with human subjects is being permitted again. In
Switzerland, a new study explores LSD as a tool of psychotherapy ­
the first such study to be allowed since the early 1970s. After years
of persistent effort, the Multidisciplinary Association of
Psychedelic Studies (maps.org) has succeeded in shepherding a number
of projects through the regulatory system. Studies underway in the
United States include research on use of psilocybin as a treatment
for cluster headaches, and on MDMA (Ecstasy) as a treatment for
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, a complex likely to haunt tens of
thousands of veterans as they return from the Iraq War.

Today, there is potential for psychedelics to be reintroduced into
mainstream culture, not as drastic catalysts of social upheaval but
as tools that can help people overcome serious problems. In the
future, MAPS sees itself becoming a "nonprofit pharmaceutical
company" that distributes psychedelics to qualified professionals. On
a deeper, almost subconscious level, cultural and political
resistance to the scrupulous study and use of psychedelics seems to
have dissipated. A recent study conducted by John Hopkins, giving
psilocybin to subjects who had never taken a psychedelic before,
found that most subjects had long-lasting positive changes in their
worldview. CNN and The Wall Street Journal gave prominent coverage to
the results of this study.

Beyond the scientific framework, there is compelling anecdotal data
on the benefits of psychedelic use for creative processes,
intellectual work and personal development. Recently, British
newspapers reported that Francis Crick may have been taking low doses
of LSD when he discovered the double helix shape of the DNA molecule
(although he refused to allow this to be published before his death).
The Nobel Prize winning biochemist Kary Mullis openly discussed the
inspiration he gained from psychedelics. Many pioneers of the
Internet and the personal computer experimented with psychedelics.
And of course, the anthemic music, film, literature and visual
culture of the late-1960s remains iconic.

During his speech at the conference, Dr. Tom Roberts, a psychology
professor at Northern Illinois University, proposed that the
rediscovery of psychedelics in modern culture is creating a "second
Reformation." During the first Reformation, the Bible, which was only
available to a priest class able to read Latin, was translated,
printed and distributed to the masses, who were then able to read and
interpret the "word of God" for themselves. By providing direct
access to the mystical experience described in sacred texts from
around the world, this "second Reformation" will, eventually,
eliminate the need for a priest class that stands between the
individual and personal revelation. Of course, such a deep shift in
cultural perspective is a long process ­ the first Reformation
developed over a few hundred years.

At this point in time, those of us who see validity in the
psychedelic experience can feel cautiously optimistic that we are
reaching some tipping point in cultural perception. The discourse
around hallucinogens has become far more sophisticated and measured
than it was a generation ago. While Timothy Leary argued psychedelics
were a shortcut to "enlightenment" and that everyone should "turn on"
and "drop out," researchers today consider psychedelics to be
powerful tools that have negative effects if used improperly, like
all tools. But these substances may also have tremendous benefits for
the individual and society, when we become mature enough to make use of them.
--

Daniel Pinchbeck is the author of Breaking Open the Head: A
Psychedelic Journey into the Heart of Contemporary Shamanism
(Broadway Books, 2002) and 2012: The Return of Quetzalcoatl
(Tarcher/Penguin, 2006). His features have appeared in The New York
Times Magazine, Rolling Stone, Esquire, Wired and many other publications.

.

Black alumni of HC recall 1969 tensions

Black alumni of HC recall 1969 tensions

http://www.telegram.com/article/20080414/NEWS/804140515/1101

1969 tensions at HC recalled

By Thomas Caywood TELEGRAM & GAZETTE STAFF
April 14, 2008

WORCESTER­ Manhattan lawyer Theodore V. Wells Jr. ­ who has
represented high-profile clients from Vice President Dick Cheney's
former chief of staff I. Lewis "Scooter" Libby to disgraced New York
governor Eliot Spitzer ­ returned to the College of the Holy Cross
last weekend as the kind of prominent alumnus that college
fundraisers and recruiters dream about.

But for a few tense days in 1969, Mr. Wells and scores of other
promising black students at Holy Cross ­ including future U.S.
Supreme Court justice, Clarence Thomas ­ left campus and were ready
to go home or transfer to other schools if need be.

They had their bags packed and their heels dug in, Mr. Wells said
during his keynote speech Saturday night for the Black Student Union
40th Anniversary Celebration. Justice Thomas was among the attendees
in the packed Hogan Student Center ballroom.

Most of the black students who walked off campus, many of whom
crashed with friends at Clark University dorms, were on scholarships
with no other way to afford an education.

Some of the members of the Black Student Union were within months of
graduation and had their graduate school acceptances already in hand,
but all were ready to decamp from Holy Cross for good over the
selective suspensions of four black students who had participated in
a campus anti-war protest, Mr. Wells said.

"At the moment of truth those students were put to the test, and they
passed that test, and I love all of them," he said during his remarks.

That was nearly four decades ago, at a time when the civil rights
movement and rising opposition to the Vietnam War had brought the
country to a boiling point.

But Mr. Wells and Mr. Thomas, who at this point in their lives move
along corridors of wealth and power, might have been heartened
Saturday night to see that, despite the great strides made in civil
rights over the intervening years, the spirit of principled protest
is still alive at their alma mater.

Early in the evening's program, Holy Cross student Gerald S.
Dickinson, the Student Government Association's diversity director,
took advantage of the spotlight during his welcoming remarks to
gently needle the association for what he said was a glaring lack of
diversity.

"There has not been a voice for students of color," said Mr.
Dickinson. He went on to tactfully chide the association for failing
to embrace and foster multiculturalism.

The formal dinner and Mr. Wells' keynote address were part of a full
schedule of events throughout the weekend celebrating the 40th
anniversary of the founding of the Black Student Union, established
in 1968 in the wake of the assassination of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.

Holy Cross, like many colleges around the country, had aggressively
recruited its largest-ever class of black students in an effort to
address rising racial tensions in the country. That year 19 new black
students started at Holy Cross, joining seven already studying there.

The new and returning African-American students formed the Black
Student Union that year, Mr. Wells said, to push for more people of
color among the faculty and other issues. The young black men had all
come of age at a time when segregation was law in some states.

"A restaurant could deny you service because you were black and it
violated nothing," said Mr. Wells, a partner with the law firm Paul,
Weiss, Rifkind, Wharton & Garrison LLP.

He had attended an all-black high school in Washington, D.C. ­ a de
facto segregation imposed by white flight to the suburbs in the years
after the Supreme Court required public schools to be integrated.

While the Holy Cross effort to recruit black students, pushed and
overseen by the Rev. John E. Brooks, was admirable, not much thought
had gone into how it would work, Mr. Wells said.

"When we got here in '68, Holy Cross was not ready for us, and we
weren't ready for Holy Cross."

The result, in part, was a campus organization that has produced a
long list of successful alumni that continues today: the Black Student Union.

Mr. Wells' Holy Cross roommate, Eddie J. Jenkins of Roxbury, is
chairman of the Massachusetts Alcoholic Beverages Control Commission;
he won fame as a running back for the Miami Dolphins during their
undefeated 1972 season. Other Black Student Union members include
Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist Edward P. Jones and Stanley Grayson,
president and chief operating officer of M.R. Beal & Co., the
nation's oldest minority-owned investment bank.

Mr. Wells graduated in 1972 and went on to become a trustee of the
college he nearly left in protest in 1969.

"We just didn't need to be here if it was going to be like that," he
said. "It was not a negotiating ploy. It was how we felt."

In the end, the college administration blinked and granted amnesty to
the four black students and 12 white students who were to be
suspended for a semester over the protest.

Mr. Wells attributed the reversal largely to the efforts of Rev.
Brooks, the man who had brought the black students to Holy Cross.

"But for Father Brooks, Holy Cross wouldn't be able to put in its
recruiting brochures that we have a Supreme Court justice," Mr. Wells said.

"But for Father Brooks, Clarence Thomas would have graduated from
some other school."

.

Alleged Jimi Hendrix sex tape to be released

Alleged Jimi Hendrix sex tape to be released

http://www.cnn.com/2008/SHOWBIZ/Music/04/29/people.hendrixsextape.ap/index.html

April 29, 2008

Vivid Entertainment is releasing a sex tape allegedly starring Jimi Hendrix.

The Los Angeles-based adult entertainment company said they obtained
the sex tape from a memorabilia collector.

The 11 minutes of footage, reportedly shot in a hotel room about 40
years ago, features Hendrix -- or someone who looks like him --
engaged in various sexual acts with two women.

The company said they consulted with experts to authenticate the
footage. But Charles R. Cross, author of the Hendrix biography "Room
Full of Mirrors," has seen the film and doubts the man is Hendrix.

Cross said the face and nostrils of the man depicted in the video
don't match Hendrix. He also said the man in the tape is wearing more
rings than Hendrix was known to wear.

"This is somebody that looks like Jimi or is pretending to look like
him, but it certainly didn't look like a dead-on match to me," Cross
said Tuesday.

Hendrix, who headlined the legendary Woodstock Festival in 1969, died
of a drug overdose in 1970.

Seattle-based representatives for Hendrix's estate declined to
comment about the tape.

.

60s artist Peter Max throws color on Baltimore

60s artist Peter Max throws color on Baltimore

http://www.examiner.com/a-1361020~60s_artist_Peter_Max_throws_color_on_Baltimore.html

Apr 26, 2008
by Jessica Novak, The Examiner

Peter Max's opening nights often draw more than 20,000 fans.

Waves of fans rush to his exhibits for a chance to glimpse the
world-renowned artist, witness his iconic American Pop images and buy
a piece of their youth.

Baltimore-area Maxists will have their chance to meet Max and see his
works up close while his retrospective, "Colors of a Better World,"
covers the Light Street Pavilion's walls.

"People following my work for years tell me things about me I had
forgotten," Max said from his New York studio where a large staff of
105 help him organize his endless on-going projects.

Max's retrospective in Baltimore boasts more than 150 art works
including original paintings and the instantly recognizable "Statue
of Liberty," "Flag with Heart" and "Cosmic" images, which captured
the psychedelic spirit of 1960s in pulsating, vibrant colors and
exciting lines.

"I grew up on the West Coast in the sixties, and for me, and for a
lot of my generation, [Max] defines the look of the sixties ­ that
kind of hallucinogenic imagery ­ colorful, clever and inventive,"
said Jay Fisher, Baltimore Museum of Art's Senior Curator of Prints,
Drawings & Photographs. "It will be interesting to go to the exhibit
and look at his work from my eyes now, to see if it evokes the same
emotions for me or if I see it in an entirely different way."

Since Max's work first garnered national attention in the sixties,
his momentum not only continued but also escalated.

"You come to get use to it, but the little kid in me still doesn't
believe it's happening," Max said about his success. "It's
mind-boggling. When I was young, I always thought 'Wow, I had a nice
run.' I wondered if would continue. It did, and got bigger and
bigger. I was surprised and very happy. All I can tell you is I don't
take any of it for granted."

In his 70 years, Max has painted portraits of six U.S. presidents,
the Dalai Lama and Mikhail Gorbachev, covered the Berlin Wall and a
Boeing 777 jumbo jet in colors, and been anointed the Official Artist
of six Grammy Awards, three World Fairs and six Super Bowls. More
than 100 museums and galleries worldwide show his works.
--

IF YOU GO

Colors of a Better World

WHEN: Through May 4
WHERE: Light Street Pavilion at Harborplace
Baltimore Inner Harbor
COST: Free. Reservations recommended. Call 1-888-513-8385
MEET THE ARTIST: Peter Max will be in Baltimore at Harborplace 6 p.m.
to 9 p.m. May 3 and 1 p.m. to 4 p.m. May 4.
--

jnovak@baltimoreexaminer.com

.

Wildwood festival celebrates groovy '60s

Wildwood festival celebrates groovy '60s

http://www.courierpostonline.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080427/NEWS01/804270363/1006

April 27, 2008

Wildwood residents and visitors had a chance to relive the 1960s this weekend.

The third annual Wildwood Sensational Sixties Weekend features three
days of concerts, parties and a 1960s-themed street fair.

The street fair, across from the Convention Center in Fox Park,
featured live bands, food, vendors, contests and a classic car show.

The event, which is becoming a spring tradition in Wildwood, ends at
3 p.m. today.

.

American Indian activist speaks at MU

American Indian activist speaks at MU

http://www.columbiamissourian.com/stories/2008/04/22/american-indian-activist-speaks-mu/

By BURK KROHE
April 22, 2008

COLUMBIA ­ Russell Means has written books, recorded music and
starred in movies, but he is best known as an American Indian activist.

Means was a leader in the American Indian Movement in the 1960s and
1970s, and in 1973, he led the movement's occupation of Wounded Knee
in South Dakota, where the group faced off against U.S. Marshals. He
also participated in the Longest Walk in 1978, a protest against what
was perceived as anti-Indian legislation by the U.S. government.

Tuesday night, Means spoke to a large crowd in Keller Auditorium at
MU as part of the Chancellor's Diversity Initiative. The lecture was
sponsored by Four Front, an organization that represents minority
groups on the MU campus.

Throughout the lecture, Means talked about his activism and the
issues that arise because of the differences between indigenous
people and European Americans.

"The very vast majority of indigenous people, and specifically the
indigenous people of the Western Hemisphere, are matriarchal
societies," Means said.

Means argued that patriarchal societies, such as that in the United
States, create conflict, whereas matriarchal societies create balance.

"I have yet to meet an indigenous language, especially in the Western
Hemisphere, that has the word war in it," he said. "If you don't have
the word you don't have the concept."

Another difference Means examined between the two cultures is
communication. The Lakotah, Means' tribe, comes from an oral
tradition. Once a language becomes codified through writing, Means
said, it starts to lose the meaning it once had. Means said linguists
have found that indigenous Western languages are much more expressive
than English.

"Anyone in here who speaks another language knows it is impossible to
adequately interpret anything into English," he said.

Means also touched upon the issues concerning his people and the
actions they have taken recently.

In December 2007, Means and a group of Lakotah Sioux withdrew from
treaties with the U.S. government. Means said the Lakotah is a
sovereign nation with tax exemptions.

Means said the Lakotah broke free of the U.S. to protect themselves
and their culture.

"My people face extinction," he said.

Means said he is supporting "total immersion schools," which would
teach the Lakotah language and culture, for young Lakotah children.
He said he hopes these schools can help save his language, since
linguists have said it's virtually dead because the average age of a
speaker is 65.

Following Means' speech, a question-and-answer session was held in
which those in attendance asked him about a number of topics,
including how he balanced his role as an activist while working with
the movie industry. Means said that once he had a role, he'd fight to
make changes in the script about generalizations and stereotypes,
adding that he was successful in making changes to the film
"Pocahontas," but less so with "The Last of the Mohicans" because the
director wouldn't change the script.

.

Activist sheds light on American Indian struggles, issues

Activist sheds light on American Indian struggles, issues

http://media.www.kstatecollegian.com/media/storage/paper1022/news/2008/04/24/CampusNews/Activist.Sheds.Light.On.American.Indian.Struggles.Issues-3346736.shtml

By: Veronika Novoselova
Issue date: 4/24/08

Many students are aware of the U.S. Civil Rights Movement and the
Women's Movement, however, the stories of the American Indian
Movement during the early 1970s are often overlooked or not explored.

In light of Native American Heritage Month in April, Arthur Short
Bull, a member of the Oglala Lakota tribe from the Pine Ridge Indian
Reservation in South Dakota, conducted a presentation "Red Road,
Black Road: Reflections on Life on Pine Ridge in the 1970s" Monday
night in the K-State Student Union.

The activist gave first-person accounts of the struggles and social
problems of American Indians living on reservations.

The Pine Ridge Indian Reservation is known for its protest movements
and several years of violent incidents.

The speaker shared painful memories from his past.

"During '60s, if an Indian boy got in a fight with white boy, the
police would arrest Indian, even if a white boy attacked first,"
Short Bull said. "We had no voice."

The speaker said when he was a young man, he got arrested and sent to
jail for no reason, "just for being an Indian," he said.

Getting a college education during the 1960s and '70s was an
unattainable dream for many American Indians, he said.

During that time, authorities banned all kinds of meetings inside the
reservation, including dances and funeral dinners.

"Part of our culture was destroyed," he said.

Short Bull said for past and present activist movements, most of the
activists showed up only if a there was attention from the media.

"I couldn't trust them," he said. "They were doing it not for us, not
for the future of our children, but for appearing in the news."

Short Bull drew the audience's attention to the personality of Anna
Mae Aquash, who was one of the most famous female members of the
American Indian Movement during the early 1970s.

"Her life and her death represent what activism is really about,"
Short Bull said.

She was murdered in 1975, and the alleged motives for the crime were
the mistaken belief that Aquash was a government informant and that
she also knew who killed FBI agents, he said.

According to Lakota beliefs, there are two roads in life - red and black.

"Red road is a dedication to God, it will take you to heaven. Black
road is a parallel path of your daily things and choices you make
every minute," Short Bull said. "Anna Mae Aquash was the best of us,
she chose the red road."

The speaker also discussed the need for more professionals who can
teach American Indian languages.

"A lot of Native Americans truly want to speak their language, to
learn culture and practice rituals," Short Bull said.

Lisa Tatonetti, assistant professor of English and American ethnic
studies, attended the lecture and said the 1970s were an important
and under-discussed period in American history.

"That's why I'm really excited to attend this talk," she said.

John Diederich, sophomore in open option, found the time of the event
convenient and the theme appealing.

"I'm interested in this topic because it is a part of our culture," he said.

.

Native American leader delivers message of empowerment

Native American leader delivers message of empowerment

http://www.firstperspective.ca/fp_template.php?path=20080425native

April 25, 2008
By Joseph Quesnel

Indigenous people should practice "confrontation politics," said a
controversial American Indian leader recently.

"They thought we were a blow in the wind, but we're still here
today," said Clyde Bellecourt, a leader of the American Indian
Movement (AIM), in referring to how people have historically looked
at the movement he helped start. Although surrounded in controversy
because of its role in confrontation with police and other security
institutions, Bellecourt stressed the group's historic role in
helping American Indians "decolonize" and stand up for themselves.

Bellecourt was in Winnipeg recently to attend a symposium on
Aboriginal decolonization. Although he was one of three keynote
speakers, Bellecourt's address and presence garnered the most
attention. Born on White Earth Reservation in 1939, he has been
involved in indigenous activism in Minnesota and all over the United
States. From a very young age, Bellecourt said he was conscious of
prejudice against indigenous ways. Even his own mother, he said,
avoided raising him "too indigenous" in order to keep his out of trouble.

"She never wanted to teach us the language and culture. She wanted to
protect us and ensure that we did not go through what she went
through," he said. "Every time they caught her speaking her language,
she'd be put to work."

Bellecourt helped found AIM back in 1968 in Minneapolis, along with
some friends, as a grassroots organization committed to acting as
watchdog on the local police service. After pulling together 120
indigenous people, most of whom were women, he helped found the
"Concerned American Indian Coalition," which would later evolve into
the American Indian Movement.

After achieving success in this goal, Bellecourt went on to help
start chapters all across the country. He has been involved in
several prominent marches on Washington and was involved in the
standoff at Wounded Knee in 1973.

"Back in 1973, the government told us we were teaching people to hate
white people and how to take over the government. But, none of our
money went towards military uses," he stressed.

Although he spoke about his challenges in forming AIM and his many
encounters with law enforcement officials, Bellecourt spoke about the
need for indigenous community empowerment and to use the tools of the
institutions to their benefit.

"Indian is what they use to oppress us and Indian is what we'll use
to free ourselves," he said.

"We have to find a way to decolonize. If there's a child who's lost,
bring him to me and I'll help bring him home."

Although the message Bellecourt brought to the audience was primarily
non-violent, he also stressed that there was a place for
confrontation and even resistance.

"We need to confront the police, the courts and the judge, the whole
system," he said.

Bellecourt stressed the importance of indigenous people "waking up"
and standing up and finding out who they are. Bellecourt also
maintained that indigenous peoples in North and South America,
particularly the Aztec of Mexico, had a very sophisticated
civilization that rivaled even certain cultures in Europe at the
time. These achievements, he stressed, should make indigenous people
proud of their culture and identity. "We are one of the most sacred
people and culture on Mother Earth. We are a beautiful culture and
everything we did involved a ceremony and song. We gave Thanksgiving
every day."

During his address, Bellecourt spoke about dealing with the many
social issues affecting American Indians, including the low
graduation rate among Aboriginal students. He spoke proudly about the
many programs AIM helped start, including an alternative education
program, that includes an indigenous cultural component. "Teaching
the truth is all we have to do," said Bellecourt. "That's
decolonization. Everything we do, we add a mix of culture and tradition."

He also pointed out that he and other AIM officials helped found a
job training centre and has established seven new sweat lodges across
Minneapolis. "Ever single program we've established is still there
today," he said, proudly.

He also said that in some neighbourhoods, American Indians have taken
control of the area and have taken over economic development for
their own people, including the provision of grocery stores, although
liquor stores are not allowed. In Minneapolis, AIM has also help
establish their own American Indian housing programs and community
medical clinics.

"If we ever forget our past, we'll never have a future," he said,
stressing the importance of finding identity and place in the
decolonization and empowerment struggle. American schools, he said,
still do not have enough indigenous content in them. As a result,
school children do not know about the indigenous contribution to
history and culture.

Bellecourt also spoke to those assembled about his struggle to
preserve Sun Dance ceremonies and other Anishnaabe cultural
traditions. He said he has been performing the sundance and other
ceremonies for He also asserted his opinions that casinos are a
mainly negative influence in American Indian communities.

"The casinos are turning people people against one another," he said,
pointing to examples within several communities.

.

Oregon town's police blotter: It's a case of Patchouli oil

Oregon town's police blotter:
It's a case of Patchouli oil

http://www.oregonlive.com/newsflash/index.ssf?/base/news-24/1209328155147630.xml&storylist=orlocal

4/27/2008
The Associated Press

ASHLAND, Ore. (AP) ­ Lenny Goldberg swears he's not anti-hippie. He
and his wife "used to be total hippies," selling black lights and
lava lamps out of their record store. They "were part organizers of
the harmonic convergence in this town."

It's just that he and Diana can't stand patchouli oil, an
accouterment of the counterculture in the 1960s used in perfumes and
remarkable for its pungency. And the Goldbergs are cat people.

Hence the sign at their Ashland music store: "Dog Free Zone,
Patchouli Free Zone."

But on April 1, somebody anointed the carpet with the noisome oil,
and the next day the store reeked.

The security film showed a shopper in a long dress and a sweat shirt
who appeared to be spilling a substance out of a container onto the carpet.

"It really, really smelled," Goldberg said.

He said he'd gotten a call the day before objecting to the sign, and
it seemed somebody was putting oil on the store's door at night.

The police were called. The press was informed. A story appeared in
the Ashland Daily Tidings, which chronicles the town known for
counterculture veterans, New Agers, tourists and the Oregon
Shakespeare Festival. Goldberg's store, by the way: CD or Not CD.

"The charge could qualify as criminal mischief if the cost to shampoo
the carpet exceeds $100," officer Bob Smith said.

The publicity apparently got to the patchouli pourer, who called
Goldberg to say it was an April Fool's joke.

"I said, 'It's not very funny,' " Goldberg said, "And she told me I
didn't have a sense of humor."

He says the woman suggested she pay for a carpet cleaning. He gets
the impression she doesn't have much money and says he'd be satisfied
if she just promises to keep her patchouli to herself.

"It's all over except the odor," he told the Daily Tidings last week.
"It'll be over soon enough. It gets less every day."
--

Information from: The Ashland Daily Tidings, http://www.dailytidings.com

.

Woodstock museum to open in New York

[2 articles]

Woodstock museum to open in New York

http://www.usatoday.com/travel/destinations/2008-04-29-woodstock-museum_N.htm

BETHEL, N.Y. (AP) ­ A new museum is opening June 2 at the site of the
1969 Woodstock concert.

The Museum at Bethel Woods, located about 90 minutes north of New
York City, will offer exhibits, personal stories, multimedia
experiences and programs about the 1960s focusing on everything from
music and fashion to political protest.

The original three-day festival epitomized the era's "sex, drugs and
rock'n'roll" counterculture while drawing 400,000 people to hear Jimi
Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Joni Mitchell, the Who and many other performers.

The Museum at Bethel Woods is part of the larger Bethel Woods Center
for the Arts, an outdoor performing arts center and complex with an
eclectic concert series and other events. Performers scheduled for
this summer include the "True Colors" show with Cyndi Lauper and The
B-52s, Ringo Starr, the New York Philharmonic, Donna Summer, The
Klezmatics, the Boston Pops and many others.

Tickets for the museum are on sale now from www.BethelWoodsCenter.org

or Ticketmaster at 845-454-3388

--------

Woodstock museum to open June 2

http://afp.google.com/article/ALeqM5idGOW3Gd3yNkYlA4s-2CKeQL-dPg

4/29/08

NEW YORK (AFP) ­ A museum dedicated to the 1969 Woodstock music
festival is scheduled to open on June 2 at a farm in upstate New York
where the event was held, organizers said Tuesday.

The Museum at Bethel Woods is located on the grounds of the historic
festival that boasted an unforgettable lineup that including guitar
legend Jimi Hendrix, folk heroine Joan Baez, blues-rock singer Janis
Joplin and The Grateful Dead rock group.

The museum features film and interactive displays as well as
artifacts to describe the festival that drew nearly one million
people, and explore its legacy.

Located 170 kilometers (105 miles) north of New York City, the museum
is part of the Bethel Woods Center for the Arts, an open-air concert
pavillion.

.

Six decades on, who needs the ICA?

Six decades on, who needs the ICA?

http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/visual_arts/article3833603.ece

The once scandalous home of the avant-garde is now an irrelevant
backwater that can barely run its own birthday party

April 29, 2008
Richard Morrison

Somehow it seems symptomatic of the inconsequential backwater that
the ICA has become. More than a year after the relevant date has
passed, an exhibition called Nought to Sixty, the major component of
its 60th birthday celebrations, is only now about to open.

It was early in 1947 that the Institute of Contemporary Arts was set
up, by a group of Modernists who wanted a "new consciousness" of the
arts to evolve in exhausted postwar Britain. In June that year the
ICA's prime founder, an anarchist poet called Herbert Read, wrote a
letter to The Times appealing for funds. That produced a scathing
riposte from the 91-year-old George Bernard Shaw. If we wanted to
improve the wellbeing of British people, he thundered, the money
would be better spent on hygiene, not the arts.

Shaw had a point, with London still full of bomb craters and
primitive Victorian housing. And there are those who would argue that
the ICA has done little in the 61 years since to prove him wrong.

I wouldn't quite go along with that. It's probably impossible for
anyone under 50 to imagine how stuffy the mainstream arts scene in
Britain was, even in the 1960s. The counterculture, the beatnik
movement, hippies, sex, drugs and rock'n'roll - these were things
that happened elsewhere. They had virtually no impact on theatres,
concert halls or art galleries. The ICA in those days was a unique
melting pot for the avant-gardes of different fields, from Peter
Blake's Pop Art to John Cage's aleatoric music.

It was also a thorn in the complacent backside of the Establishment.
Shows such as the 1965 happening Oh What A Lovely Whore, which
invited the audience to smash up a piano, or the 1957 exhibition
Paintings by Chimpanzees (which was exactly that), or Mary Kelly's
notorious 1976 display of dirty nappies (to bring home the reality of
motherhood), or Einstürzende Neubauten's never-to-be-forgotten 1984
Concerto for Voice and Machinery, which demolished the ICA's stage
with a piledriver - all these shook preconceptions about art. One
show was shut down amid threats of indecency charges. That was the
1976 exhibition on prostitution, featuring the half-clad charms of a
porn model called Cosey Fanni Tutti.

Those were the days! The ICA was always a shambling, incoherent place
- but at least in its heady early decades it could was occasionally
capable of shocking Tunbridge Wells with a lively piece of gross
moral turpitude.

But all that was more than 25 years ago. Since then? Well, there have
been odd attempts to recapture the spirit of daring anarchy. Looking
back over my reviews in the 1980s and 1990s, I see I wrote about a
series of workshops on transvestitism with "New York's foremost
cross-dressing impresario", about a display of catfood balanced on
melons, and about "the first international festival of naked poets".
None of which has left the slightest trace on my memory. That was how
much impact they made on me, and on the public at large.

Little wonder, then, that the ICA has gone off the radar in the past
20 years. Apart from one incident, that is. Six years ago its
chairman, a businessman called Ivan Massow, was forced to resign when
he made the observation that most conceptual art was "pretentious,
self-indulgent, craftless tat". How ironic. The ICA was in the
headlines, for the first time in years, because its boss had attacked
the very thing that it was supposed to be promoting.

In one way, however, Massow's words were unsurprising, since the ICA
had spectacularly failed to jump on the Young British Artists
bandwagon that galvanised the London art scene in the 1980s and
1990s. Charles Saatchi and Tate Modern were allowed to set the
agendas, garner the headlines and draw the big crowds. Another irony:
for the first time in history, Britain was the centre of an
avant-garde art movement - yet the very institution set up to
champion the avant-garde was nowhere to be seen.

What has the ICA been doing instead, while millions flocked to
Nicholas Serota's great brick culture castle by the Thames? Well,
it's been offering what its music programmer calls "hot,
drink-fuelled nights of music, butt-shaking and smiles". Admittedly,
these club nights have boosted its attendance figures. But should you
need a £1.36 million annual subsidy from the Arts Council to do that?
London heaves with clubs offering butt-shaking to suit every taste.

The ICA has also made a point of championing the "digital arts" - a
subculture of a subculture that already seems as dated as a prawn
cocktail. And it is reliving its past. The Concerto for Voice and
Machinery was revived recently - though with a fake floor so that the
building wouldn't suffer any real damage. How symbolic! The ICA is
"not about storming the barricades any more", says Ekow Eshun, the
former style journalist who was appointed its boss three years ago.
So what is it about?

Perhaps it is about identifying the artists who are going to be big
in the 2020s, rather than those - such as Hirst and Emin - who peaked
in the early 1990s. If so, Nought to Sixty looks promising. It
presents 60 solo projects by young British and Irish artists. Each
show lasts just one week. And the line-up for May looks suitably
weird and wacky.

Nina Canell and Robin Watkins, for instance, will be showing a film
of a man digging a hole in a bog. Read into that what you will. And
there's an exhibition by Alastair MacKinven, a young artist last seen
glueing his hand to the floor of the Camden Arts Centre to test how
long it would take the attendants to notice. According to the ICA's
programme, this prank "plays with notions of institutional critique".

Perhaps these youthful japes will be enough to revive its wild,
iconoclastic spirit. But stuck in its posh home on The Mall, just
beneath the Athenaeum Club and the Institute of Directors, the ICA
seems marooned both geographically and symbolically. In London today
contemporary arts flourish. Even pillars of the cultural
establishment, such as the Royal Opera House and National Theatre,
offer cutting-edge new work. If the ICA were to become more like the
National Theatre of Scotland, to become not a physical venue but a
commissioning body, it might still survive with its point intact. Yet
in its current form it is almost the last place you would look for
brilliant new work.

People who work in institutes are, by definition, insitutionalised.
And that's the last thing the avant-garde should be. When the
Edinburgh Festival reached its 50th birthday, the great George
Steiner declared that the best way of celebrating the anniversary
would be for it to abolish itself - before what was spontaneous and
exhilarating became routine.

I am tempted to offer the ICA the same advice. If the ICA blew itself
up tomorrow, what an anarchic statement that would be! Except that I
don't think many people would even notice that it had gone.

Nought to Sixty, May 5 to November 2, www.ica.org.uk/noughttosixty
--

Shock or shlock? Milestones at the ICA

Peter Blake: Objects, 1960

One of the British artist's first solo shows, this exhibition is
credited with launching Pop Art to the wider public. In the early
1960s the ICA mounted exhibitions by several of Britain's top
artists, including Howard Hodgkin, David Hockney and Richard Smith.

The Clash, 1976

One of the band's earliest gigs, it inaugurated punk. The NME
reported that a woman at the front of the crowd bit her boyfriend's
earlobe off in front of an astonished Joe Strummer, and tried to
slash her own wrists with a broken bottle before being bundled away
by security.

Prostitution, 1976

Threatened with indecency charges, the ICA was forced to take down
the syringes, chains, used tampons and pornographic images, as well
as the star exhibit, a semi-naked woman.

Concerto for Voice and Machinery, 1984

The German band Einstürzende Neubauten, wearing heavy-duty goggles to
protect themselves (no such help for the audience), noisily destroyed
the ICA stage, among other things, with a road drill.

Manga! Manga! Manga!, 1992

This film season, one of the first showings of anime in the UK,
introduced Japanese animation to London, and showed the first
overseas releases of many classics of the genre. It still carries a
huge following at the ICA's Comica festival.

NANCY DURRANT

.

1968: The Year of Living Dangerously

1968: The Year of Living Dangerously

http://www.villagevoice.com/film/0818,the-year-of-living-dangerously,427204,20.html

A look back at a year when the whole world was watching

by J. Hoberman
April 29th, 2008

Once upon a time, lo these 40 springs ago, children all over the
world joined forces to smoke dope, make love, listen to the Rolling
Stones, and smash the state: Did it ever really happen?

Mais oui, say the programmers at the Walter Reade, where 1968: An
International Perspective seems an unnecessarily sober rubric under
which to survey so delirious a moment. Back then, it seemed as though
life itself were a movie. Something approaching the essence of the
epoch's theatricality might be gleaned by a double feature of Medium
Cool (1969), a drama shot by Haskell Wexler amid the street riots of
Chicago '68, and Dionysus in '69 (1970), Brian DePalma's split-screen
documentation of Richard Schechner's sensational proscenium-smashing
counterculture version of Euripides' Bacchae. Or perhaps the
projectionist could simply alternate reels.

Fittingly, the Walter Reade show is programmatically promiscuous in
mixing and matching documentary and fiction and, most crucially,
combinations of the two. Thus, Hollywood's three-hour celebration of
the civil-rights struggle, King: A Filmed Record . . . Montgomery to
Memphis (1970)­co-directed by Sidney Lumet and Joseph Mankiewicz, no
less­segues into Emile de Antonio's In the Year of the Pig (1969),
the definitive outsider Viet doc, then and now; Year of the Pig is
followed by MGM's contribution to the revolution, Michelangelo
Antonioni's 1970 Zabriskie Point and then the all-but-unknown Blow
for Blow, a 1971 staged documentary about a textile-factory strike,
made by future film-distribution powerhouse Marin Karmitz. Rarer
still is street photographer William Klein's personal account of the
French uprising, Maydays (1968-78), which warms up for Zabriskie
Point's second screening.

Beginning with Jean-Luc Godard's prescient La Chinoise (1967), youth
rebellion inspired filmmakers all over the world, including youth
itself: Witness the selection of guerrilla agit-props­Off the Pig,
Columbia Revolt, and People's Park among them­made between 1968 and
1971 by the Newsreel collectives on the east and west coasts. In
junta-run Brazil, 23-year-old Julio Bressane concocted the wildly
anti-authoritarian Killed the Family and Went to the Movies (1969);
in Hungary, 24-year-old Gyula Gazdag dreamt up The Whistling
Cobblestone (1971), a deadpan comic allegory about the impossibility
of youth revolt in the realm of actually existing socialism.

The Walter Reade show, which also includes features from Norway,
Japan, Switzerland, and Germany, provides not only perspective but
several epic postmortems. There's the three-hour Milestones (1975),
in which Robert Kramer and John Douglas look back at the Movement;
Chris Marker's even longer Grin Without a Cat (1978; 1993) does the
same for the European New Left; and, viewing the past from an even
greater distance, Phillipe Garrel's 2005 Regular Lovers is a
fictional evocation of Paris '68 superior in every sense to
Bertolucci's kindred The Dreamers.

That one isn't actually showing, but the quintessential movie is:
Dusan Makavejev's 1971 WR: Mysteries of the Organism is part
counterculture doc, part New Left comedy, the saddest and funniest of
'68 post-mortems, as well as the movie most redolent of the
period­that is, everything at once. Through May 14, Walter Reade Theater.

.

Tom Hayden Strikes Back

Tom Hayden Strikes Back

http://www.truthdig.com/report/item/20080430_tom_hayden_strikes_back/

Apr 30, 2008
By Tom Hayden

Editor's note: Truthdig columnist Chris Hedges wrote in a recent essay
http://www.truthdig.com/report/item/20080421_the_left_has_lost_its_way/
that leftists such as Tom Hayden had lost their nerve. Hayden sent us
this reply.

John MacArthur, the publisher of Harper's, should know better than to
claim that some like myself have spent our lives wanting to be
"players" in the Democratic Party instead of being "outside the
system." In most countries, most activists move between social
movements and political parties as the need arises. I have spent 50
years in social movements, 20 of them as an elected legislator who
was opposed by the party establishment, which is far from being a
"player." I believe that change always begins with independent social
movements, but movements can be expanded by political representation
at certain stages. Who, for example, can forget the willingness of
Sen. Mike Gravel to read the Pentagon Papers into the congressional
record at great legal and political risk to himself?

I am saddened by the strange argument of Chris Hedges, who cites
MacArthur in his essay "The Left Has Lost Its Way." Chris says we
should "walk away from the Democratic Party even if Barack Obama is
the nominee," and vote for Ralph Nader. If not, "we become slaves," a
truly unfortunate analogy. What Chris misses is that millions of
African-Americans and young people generally are throwing themselves
into the Barack Obama campaign, and will not take seriously a white
writer who preaches that they are marching in the wrong direction.
The analogy to slavery is absolutely inappropriate.

My view is to be humbled and appreciative of this unpredicted upsurge
of idealistic and fervent activism created in the Obama movement, and
to be supportive of the candidacy while remaining independent and
critical of the candidate's moderate views on Iraq and NAFTA. It's my
sense as an organizer for 50 years that we should stand with
spontaneous new waves of activism, not demand that they call off
their campaigns at the most critical moment. It is possible to do so
without having to surrender our independence on the issues we care most about.

For that reason, some of us have created a Web site
http://progressivesforobama.blogspot.com/
called Progressives for Obama, including myself, Bill Fletcher,
Barbara Ehrenreich, Danny Glover, Cornel West, Jane Fonda, Jim
Hightower, Jean Stein, Andy Stern, Anna Burger, and 300 more.

The social movements have not disappeared in 2008 but follow a logic
of their own, like a river cutting its path. If the Clintons steal
the nomination, the social movements will return in force. If Obama
wins the presidency, the social movements will rise with higher
expectations to demand that President Obama end the Iraq war and
focus on race, poverty and environmental issues at home and around
the world. The left should not be a small elite outside this process.

.

Lee to Direct Gay Woodstock Film

[2 items]

Ang Lee making gay Woodstock movie

http://www.reuters.com/article/entertainmentNews/idUSN2238254820080422

Tue Apr 22, 2008
By Gregg Goldstein

NEW YORK (Hollywood Reporter) - "Brokeback Mountain" director Ang Lee
is returning to the gay genre with a movie revolving around the
Woodstock music festival.

"Taking Woodstock" centers on the colorful life of a Greenwich
Village-based interior designer and part-time Catskills hotel manager
who headed the Bethel, N.Y., Chamber of Commerce. He issued the
permit for the legendary 1969 concert on his neighbor Max Yasgur's farm.

It is based on Elliot Tiber's 2007 memoir "Taking Woodstock: A True
Story of a Riot, a Concert, and a Life," which he wrote with Tom Monte.

The project is set up at Focus Features, and will be adapted by the
studio's CEO, James Schamus. Lee and Schamus' most recent
collaboration was Focus' Chinese-language drama "Lust, Caution,"
which earned $66 million worldwide.

The writing-directing pair had their breakthrough indie hit with the
gay-themed comedy "The Wedding Banquet" in 1993, and Lee directed
Focus' biggest hit, the gay Western "Brokeback Mountain," in 2005.

There have been several Woodstock documentaries, but few narrative
films touching on the festival, one of the few being Tony Goldwyn's
"A Walk on the Moon."

--------

Lee to Direct Gay Woodstock Film

http://www.advocate.com/news_detail_ektid53620.asp

April 24, 2008

Brokeback Mountain director Ang Lee will make another gay-focused
movie, this one about the gay man who helped make the 1969 Woodstock
music festival a reality. Taking Woodstock is based on Elliot Tiber's
2007 memoir of the same name, according to Reuters. Tiber, who was
working as an interior designer and part-time Catskills hotel
manager, headed the Bethel, N.Y., Chamber of Commerce, which issued
the permit for the famous festival.

Focus Features' CEO, James Schamus, will adapt Tiber's book for the
screen. Schamus was cowriter of Lee's recent film Lust, Caution.
Schamus and Lee also worked together to make the gay-themed comedy
The Wedding Banquet, released in 1993. Brokeback Mountain, released
in 2005, was Focus's biggest hit. (The Advocate)

.

Havens cherishes freedom

Havens cherishes freedom

http://www.canada.com/cityguides/montreal/story.html?id=4b6b19f6-628f-44be-8df0-f3aa395dee53&k=71645

The song never remains the same for freewheeling singer-guitarist

[April 2008]
Bernard Perusse , The Gazette

It's common enough for jazz musicians to work without a net, with
only the basic framework of their live set planned out. Such daring
is far more unusual in the kind of roots music Richie Havens plays.
Yet not only does Havens perform without a net, he takes it on blind
faith that the tightrope will hold.

It always does.

When the Brooklyn-born singer-guitarist walks out to face his
audience, he knows only two things: the first song and the closing
one. Everything in between will be dictated by the feel of the crowd.
At 67, he still makes those spontaneous choices around 200 nights a year.

"There's a certain vibe I pick up," the amiable singer-songwriter
said in a recent telephone interview. "I call it breathing. I walk
out on the stage and they applaud - which is exhaling. And I'm
inhaling. I exhale in playing the song and they're inhaling it, and
at the end they exhale and clap again. And it's out of that feeling
that I get what to sing next. I'm an audience, too."

One of Havens's most well-known performances - singing Freedom at the
Woodstock music festival in 1969 - came about through that same
mystical process. It's captured in the Woodstock movie, released the
following year. Pushed by organizers to extend his festival-opening
set while logistics were worked out to cope with blocked roads and
bringing other acts to the stage, Havens pulled the idea for the
improvised number out of nowhere, he said. "I started singing
'freedom' because I said to myself, 'This is the freedom my
generation has been looking for - and this is it. This is the
beginning of the world.' "

Part of the sentiments came from being flown to the festival site by
helicopter. From the size of the crowd, which ultimately grew to
400,000, Havens concluded that the voice of youth could no longer be
marginalized, he explained. "When I looked down on that crowd, I
said, 'They can't hide this anymore.' This was not only a game, but
we took the hill, and the consciousness in music came through it. It
all paid off," he said.

It was only after the festival and the movie spinoff that public
demand forced Havens to turn Freedom - a combination of off-the-cuff
exhortations and the traditional spiritual Sometimes I Feel Like a
Motherless Child - into a bona fide song, he said.

It's what Havens does best: putting his stamp on material from many
sources. "Covering" actually seems too feeble a word for what he
does. It's more like reimagining. It might be George Harrison's Here
Comes the Sun or Stephen Stills's Helplessly Hoping, but in the end,
they all wind up percussive, soulful and generally sounding like
Havens wrote them. And that goes double for his frequent visits to
the Bob Dylan songbook.

"When I first met him, I made up a characterization for him: I called
him the poet that got to sing his poems," he said.

Havens remembered one Dylan song that challenged his skills as an
interpreter. He said he was usually a quick study with songs, nailing
them in two or three tries - until Dylan's A Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall
came along.

"It took me eight days to figure out what I had to do to sing this
song," he said. "All of a sudden I realized the one thing I didn't
even think of: I'm sitting here looking at this verse - and the first
sentence has nothing to do with the previous sentence or the one that
comes behind it, and the one behind that is, in the same way, not
connected. So I said, 'It's a movie! I have to look at each line and
see the physical picture of what he was saying.' It took me two
minutes to get the rest down."

Coincidentally, Havens can be seen in Todd Haynes's I'm Not There,
a movie that also reimagines - in this case, Dylan's various
personas. Havens credited Haynes with "filming the invisible."

Havens said he has known Dylan since their early folk days in
Greenwich Village and that the two still bump into each other on the
road. Dylan will also be 67 next month, and both musicians are still
out there performing on a punishing schedule.

Havens said he never thinks about the physical stamina such a regimen
must require: "There are two things that, if I didn't have them, I
wouldn't miss them - and that's sleeping and eating." He said he
generally sleeps between 1:30 and 4:30 a.m. and tries unsuccessfully
to go back to sleep for another hour and a half. He acquired the
habit in his younger days, by staying up watching late movies with
his mother. "Ideas would come," he said. "Those were my educational hours."

Very much unlike Dylan, however, Havens has a long-standing
reputation for meeting with his fans after shows. "The only thing I
learn is, 'Geez, I was here yesterday, even though I was in another
place,' " he said, laughing. "They're family to me."

That reminded him of a conversation with his mother. "My mother
called me one day, when I was about 19, in Greenwich Village," he
remembered. "She said, 'Your grandmother's too much. She just told me
a story about you. She said she asked you what you wanted to do when
you grow up, and you said you wanted to meet everybody in the whole
world,' " Havens said, chuckling heartily.

"It's actually happening," he added, as the laugh grew into a guffaw.

Richie Havens performs in Montreal, April 26 at the Oscar Peterson
Hall. For more information, go to http://richiehavens.com/.
--

bperusse@thegazette.canwest.com

.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Black Panthers celebrate in Seattle

[2 articles]

Recalling days of the Panthers

http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2004374883_seale26m.html

April 26, 2008
By Charles E. Brown
Seattle Times staff reporter

Emory Douglas was a 22-year-old student and aspiring artist at San
Francisco's City College when he crossed paths with Black Panther
Party organizers on a local college campus.

In an era of civil-rights strife ­ about a year before the 1968
assassination of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. ­ the Panther
party's revolutionary activism caught his attention.

"When I came in, [the party] still was not a national party," Douglas
said. "It was a small domestic organization."

But the movement, started in California's Bay Area by Bobby Seale and
others, spread, gaining devotees in Seattle and around the nation.

"There was a high level of frustration because all across the country
you saw young black men being shot in the back and killed by police,"
Douglas said.

He became one of the party's earliest members, and because of his
artistic skills was named the party's revolutionary artist. In later
years, he was named the party's minister of culture.

He has continued to create art, and he is in Seattle this weekend to
help founding members of the party's defunct Seattle chapter
commemorate the chapter's 40th anniversary.

Friday night at a reception at Seattle University, Douglas displayed
some of his party artwork and sold and autographed copies of his
book, "Black Panther: The Revolutionary Art of Emory Douglas."

"I still have that spirit," he said.

Also attending the reception was Seale, the party's co-founder and
national chairman, along with brothers Aaron and Elmer Dixon,
co-founders of the Seattle chapter. Since the waning of the party in
the mid-'70s, Seale has been a mainstay on the college-campus lecture
circuit, "continuing the human liberation struggle," he said. He has
returned to Seattle several times for local party reunions.

Today, party organizers will participate in public workshops from 3
to 5 p.m. at the Yesler Terrace Community Center, 917 E. Yesler Way.
Douglas will present a slide show on the party's history through his
art. At 6 p.m., Seale will speak at the center, offering his views on
the Black Panther Party legacy.

--------

Black Panthers celebrate in Seattle

http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2004376359_blackpanther27m.html

By Christine Clarridge
Seattle Times staff reporter
April 27, 2008

Yes, there's been progress, and it's good to see a black man running
for president. But there's still injustice, still division between
the rich and poor, still so much work to be done.

That was the consensus among the men ­ once core members of the Black
Panther Party's Seattle chapter ­ who talked among themselves
Saturday at the Yesler Terrace Community Center, where a celebration
was held to commemorate the group's 40th anniversary. The men talked
about what progress they've seen since the years when they had the
"audacity to follow the police," in one member's words, and to
question their tactics.

Men and women of color now can more easily climb above their
individual circumstances, they said. But, they said, black people as
a whole are no better off.

Aaron Dixon, who cofounded the Seattle chapter of the legendary
civil-rights group, said he sometimes feels something akin to despair
when he thinks about the outsourcing of jobs, global warming, class
separation, the hopelessness of the poor and the push by corporations
to control the world's resources.

Still, he and most of the other former members continue to work in
nonprofits and keep working to secure equal rights.

The now-defunct Seattle chapter was the first formed outside of
California and was initiated through the work of Dixon, his brother
Elmer and Bobby Seale, co-founder of the movement in the Bay Area.
The group was never anti-white, members said. Its mission was to
advocate for the poor and protect the oppressed.

But frustration grew during the early years as members watched what
they saw as increasing violence by police against blacks.

Across the country, Black Panther groups became known for patrolling
and keeping watch on the police, informing them and others of
people's constitutional rights.

"It was audacity to follow the police," said Rashad Byrdsong, former
leader of the Tacoma chapter. "And it is audacity to have hope."

Some of the group's activities landed Seale and others in courtrooms
and in jail.

Following the riots at the 1968 Democratic National Convention, Seale
was the eighth defendant charged with inciting riots in the
high-profile "Chicago Seven" case.

During his trial, he was ordered bound and gagged by the judge, who
eventually had him removed from the court for his outbursts. The
charges were ultimately dismissed.

These days, the 71-year-old Seale is a mainstay on the college-campus
lecture circuit. In his lectures, he compares the activism of the
1960s with current social and human-rights advocacy in a high-tech
and globalized society.

After talking with so many young people who want to know how they can
make a difference, he says he has hope.

"It's all about continuous consciousness-raising," he said. "It's a
spiritual thing that is part and parcel of the human liberation
project. All 6.1 billion of us are interconnected, interrelated and
intertwined."
--

Christine Clarridge: 206-464-8983 or cclarridge@seattletimes.com

.

May 1968 and all that

May 1968 and all that

http://www.powerlineblog.com/archives2/2008/04/020350.php

April 21, 2008

We are nearing the 40th anniversary of the famous student uprising in
France. In the heart of Paris' student quarter, on Rue Saint Jacques,
the city is displaying a collection of excellent photographs of the
May 1968 events -- students constructing barricades from burned-out
cars, pulling up cubes of pavement with which to do battle against
the police, and so forth. The photos are accompanied by short
captions which generally express sympathy and affection for the students.

But why were they fighting in the streets? Unlike the U.S., France
was not bogged down in a controversial war. Moreover, the government
of Charles de Gaulle had brought stability and prosperity to France
after three decades of misfortune and worse.

Part of the answer lies in French tradition: the students were acting
as their ancestors had done -- repeatedly. Moreover, there was a
sense that the de Gaulle government was past its sell-by date. As
David Frum shows in How We Got Here: The 70s, the World War II
generation of leaders quickly exited the stage in most key countries
during the early 1960s, usually to be replaced by substantially
younger leaders (think of Eisenhower and Kennedy). But de Gaulle had
removed himself from the political scene shortly after the war,
waiting for the nation to turn to him in desperation. Since this
didn't happen until 1958, he re-entered the scene around the time
that his contemporaries elsewhere were departing. By 1968, he must
have seemed like a dinosaur to student activiists.

The students also had legitimate grievances. De Gaulle had reformed
much, but not the university system. Nanterre where the trouble began
was, in the words of Alistair Horne author of the excellent Seven
Ages of Paris, "a new particularly drab suburban campus of
graffiti-covered concrete surrounded by mud." Designed to deal with
the overflow at the Sorbonne, it had 12,000 students, many more than
it could adequately accommodate, and only 240 professors. Students
often waited more than an hour to be served food, leaving "plenty of
time for revolutionary chat."

The Sorbonne wasn't much better. By 1968, it had 130,000 students and
suffered from "overcrowding in lecture halls, mandarinisme on the
part of the teachers, a total lack of communication between them and
their pupils, over-centralization, excessive bureaucracy, the
fossilization of the syllabus and the tyranny of endless examinations."

So the students had a case for protesting in favor of university
reform; what they lacked was a case for attempting to bring about the
violent overthrow of the French government.

Yet it was natural that over-excited French 20 year olds would infer
the second case from the first, especially after the French police
overreacted to initial provocation. What seems inexcusable is the way
their elders -- professors and intellectuals -- egged them on. Horne
notes, for example, that chemistry professors showed students how to
make Molotov cocktails. And then there was Jean-Paul Sartre, taking
the wrong line as usual, playing the role of "professor of
revolution." How fitting that an essentially frivolous philosopher
would be so closely associated with an essentially frivolous
revolution, remembered for its Sartresque slogan "I take my desires
for reality because I believe in the reality of my desires."

Fortunately, the French working class showed better judgment than
French intellectuals. Striking workers occupied the huge Renault
plant, but refused to join forces with the students. And the giant
CGT ordered that there be no interuption of electricity service.
These develoments bought an unusually hesitant de Gaulle the time he
needed to get back finally in the saddle. As Raymond Aron put it,
"one speech from an old man of 78 and the people of France
rediscovered the sense of reality, petrol pumps and holidays."

What is the legacy of May 1968? Perhaps it's that the French have not
lost that sense of reality. Nothing like these events has happened
since. 40 years is a long time for the French to go without a revolt or a war.

Recently, of course, France has experienced rioting, so a new revolt
may be brewing. However, this would be a revolt of a religious/ethnic
minority -- outsiders, in effect. May 1968 may have marked the final
installment in an almost 200 year-old French tradition of Gallic
street fighting. That's something to celebrate.

.

Bill Ayers (5)

[6 articles]

Ex-radical William Ayers keeps low profile

http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/politics/la-na-ayers24apr24,1,4863789.story

The Weatherman founding member, now a professor, says he wants to
avoid fueling his 'cartoon' media image. So he won't be discussing
his ties to Obama.

By Steve Schmadeke, Chicago Tribune
April 24, 2008

CHICAGO -- William Ayers, a former radical leader turned academic and
school reformer, has never been hesitant to speak his mind.

Although there has been no public response from him since his ties to
Barack Obama -- the two neighbors served on a charity board together
for three years -- were referenced during last week's Democratic
debate in Philadelphia, Ayers said Wednesday that he has a good reason.

He doesn't want to feed the flawed "narrative" out in the media, he
said, one that has commentators on Ayers' own blog wondering why
someone hasn't shot him dead yet.

"It's a cartoon" that people are reacting to, said Ayers, a professor
of education, in a brief chat at his University of Illinois at Chicago office.

Ayers also took exception to the notion that he's been muzzled since
his name surfaced during the April 16 debate.

"I'm still outspoken," he said. "I'm still out speaking at college
campuses. You can follow me if you want." Some of what he calls his
"episodic notoriety" has even followed there. Conservative student
groups asked the University of North Dakota to withdraw its
invitation for him to speak there last month. It did not.

Born to wealth in the upscale Chicago suburb of Glen Ellyn, Ayers,
like thousands of other young Americans at the time, was moved to
political action by the Vietnam War. He and wife Bernardine Dohrn,
now a Northwestern University law professor, were founding members of
the Weatherman, an offshoot of the Students for a Democratic Society
that claimed responsibility for about a dozen bombings. The group
also organized violent antiwar demonstrations in Chicago in 1969 that
became known as the Days of Rage.

Ayers writes on his blog that he has never escaped his past. Nor has
he ever explicitly apologized for it, saying the times and his
actions need a more nuanced rendering.

Ayers wonders if his account of those years will ever really be
heard. He writes in a passage that may also hit home with the Obama
campaign: "It's all part of the endlessly repeating official account,
the echo that grows and grows as it bounces off the walls.

"How can it ever be effectively denied?"

--------

Underground links likely to resurface for Obama

http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/columnists/chi-kass-23-apr23,1,4967065.column

John Kass
April 23, 2008

Broadway Baby was not mentioned during the Democratic infighting in
Pennsylvania.

But Broadway Baby­once a chic children's boutique in Manhattan's
Upper West Side­is the future, if Barack Obama is the presidential
candidate in the fall.

This story involves two Chicagoans, former Weather Underground
terrorist leaders Bernardine Dohrn and her husband, William Ayers,
both Obama supporters who blessed his initial foray into politics.
Last week, the unrepentant Ayers became a flash point in Obama's
debate with Hillary Clinton.

"And what they [Weather Underground] did was set bombs and in some
instances people died," said Clinton, sweetly playing the white
terrorist card. "I know Sen. Obama is a good man and I respect him
greatly, but I think this is an issue that certainly the Republicans
will be raising."'

And why shouldn't they?

As president, Hillary's husband commuted the prison sentences of two
other Weather Underground members and of Puerto Rican terrorists, so
her scolding was quite unconvincing.

Obama insists such gotcha politics is beneath our dignity. But no
association is above question for a candidate, whether Rev. Jeremiah
Wright, Illinois political fixer Tony Rezko, or Ayers and Dohrn.

Clinton and Republican John McCain have suffered scrutiny. The only
one treated as an infant in swaddling clothes by the national
media­until quite recently­is Sen. Change.

So let's wait until Labor Day, when Broadway Baby may become a
catchphrase. Here's why: According to a 1982 New York Times report,
Broadway Baby was implicated in an investigation of a series of
violent armed robberies in New York­netting more than $2 million over
a two-year span­committed by former Black Panthers and Weather
Underground members in the early '80s.

Their aim? Global revolution, naturally. They needed cash, but the
rich white parents weren't in a giving mood. So their privileged
offspring grabbed guns, pointed them at the faces of the working man
and, sometimes, they pulled the trigger.

At Broadway Baby, customers often paid by check and used driver's
licenses for identification. On Dec. 28, 1979, information from two
customer files was used to apply for two driver's licenses at the New
York State Department of Motor Vehicles. The fraudulent licenses were
used to rent getaway cars for the gang.

Investigators tracked the identities on two licenses for the getaway
cars. The names belonged to women who had shopped at Broadway Baby in
December 1979. But they weren't robbers.

And who was the manager of Broadway Baby during that period of the
customer ID theft?

Dohrn, the future wife of Ayers, identified by investigators as
taking customer information from one, and possibly both, of the women
shoppers. Dohrn was never charged in that case.

Dohrn and Ayers had been running for some 11 years, fleeing federal
charges that they instigated riots in Chicago in 1969.

They finally came in out of the cold in 1980, but the New York gang
continued its spree, ending in the bloody 1981 robbery in Rockland
County that left a Brinks security guard and two police officers dead.

The federal charges from the riots were finally dropped because the
FBI used illegal wiretaps. But the local charge of aggravated assault
stuck to Dohrn. She pleaded guilty to two counts, receiving a $1,500
fine and no jail time

In 1982, Dohrn was brought before a federal grand jury investigating
radical conspiracies linked to the New York robberies. She refused to
cooperate or to provide a signature sought by FBI handwriting
analysts. Dohrn was held in contempt of the grand jury and imprisoned
for seven months.

A few years later, Ayers got his job as a professor at the University
of Illinois at Chicago. And Dohrn was employed at the Children and
Family Justice Center affiliated with Northwestern University's School of Law.

I've always been fascinated as to how the radical underground stop
running and get jobs in academia. Is there a Terrorist Patronage
Office for Rich White People? And how did a convicted Dohrn get hired
to teach at a law school?

"I am afraid I don't know an answer to that," NU spokesman Alan
Cubbage said. "The person who was the dean at the time is no longer
with the law school. And the person who was the president at the time
is no longer the president. So I just don't know."

Cubbage did not mention that Ayers' late father­Commonwealth Edison
boss Thomas Ayers­was an NU trustee and former board chairman. UIC
spokesman Mark Rosati couldn't help either, but suggested I file a
Freedom of Information Act request to find out how terrorists get
hired by taxpayers.

"It's nothing personal," Rosati said.

How amusing. They don't want to explain how terrorists were hired, so
they know nothing.

It might work now, but it won't work in the fall, when Broadway Baby
opens for a run, in a campaign commercial near you.
--

jskass@tribune.com

--------

Will the '60s never leave us - an editorial

http://www.cleveland.com/editorials/plaindealer/index.ssf?/base/opinion/1208939604325080.xml&coll=2

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Grace Slick, lead singer for the Jefferson Airplane, famously
observed, "If you re member the '60s, you weren't really there." It's
a nice line that captures the mind-altering hedonism favored by some
in the counterculture.

It's also false. As Barack Obama has learned, you didn't even have to
be there, lucid or otherwise, to remember the '60s - or to answer for
what happened then. The era lives on as a sort of endless media loop
that captivates, defines and ensnares not just those who were
actively involved in its political and cultural upheavals or who
watched them unfold at arm's length. For many Americans, the '60s
have never really ended.

Blame the baby boomers. They came of age during the '60s. Their
enormous cohort chose up sides - on Vietnam, civil rights, women's
rights, drugs, art, music, religion - and have been going at it ever
since. Because the boomers are so numerous, their hot-button issues
still animate and drive this country's politics. The last two
presidents have been baby boomers from opposite sides of the vast
gulf. All public figures of a certain age know to expect questions
about their draft histories and drug use.

But each year, America moves further from the crucible; next year
will bring the 40th anniversary of Woodstock. The children of the
people who were warned not to trust anyone over 30 are now over 30.
How long must they be expected to fight the old fights?

Part of Obama's appeal is the possibility that, at age 46, he might
move the national debate forward a few decades. But lately he's been
dogged by questions about William Ayers, once a member of the radical
Weather Underground. Ayers and his comrades used bombs to protest the
Vietnam War, though the only people killed by any of the explosions
were three Weathermen who blew up their own house. He and his future
wife, Bernardine Dohrn, spent a decade on the run from the law,
though most charges against them ultimately were dismissed.

Today in Chicago, Ayers teaches at the University of Illinois and
works on school reform, sometimes with Mayor Richard M. Daley, whose
father loathed the Weathermen. Dohrn teaches law at Northwestern
University and specializes in juvenile justice reform. They live near
the University of Chicago. So does Obama. The two men served for a
time on the board of the Woods Fund, a charity that gives away about
$60 million a year to community development or education initiatives.

Ayers hasn't given money to Obama's federal campaigns. He's not a
policy adviser. Yet for weeks conservative pundits have suggested
there's something amiss about Obama's ties to the one-time radical.
Hillary Clinton and John McCain also have suggested that Obama has
some explaining to do.

At this writing, there's no way of knowing whether the hubbub
affected votes in Pennsylvania, but it shouldn't have. Candidates
can't be held accountable for everything their supporters, or in this
case, their occasional associates, have said or done.

Guilt by association was Joe McCarthy's thing - in the '50s. Let's
not relive that era, too.

--------

Obama's Weathermen - Explosive Past, Radical Forecast

http://www.agoravox.com/article.php3?id_article=8088

23 April 2008

Sen. Barack Hussein Obama was asked during a televised debate about
his links to a former member of the Vietnam-era militant Weather
Underground organization, Bill Ayers, who is now a professor of
education at the University of Illinois at Chicago.
--

The Weather Underground Organization, was a violent U.S. radical left
group formed in 1969 by leaders and members who split from the
Students for a Democratic Society (SDS).

They took their name from a lyric in the Bob Dylan song "Subterranean
Homesick Blues","You don't need a weatherman to know which way the
wind blows," which they used as the title of a position paper they
distributed at an SDS convention in Chicago on June 18th, 1969, as
part of a special edition of New Left Notes.

According to his memoir, Ayers became radicalized at the University
of Michigan where he became involved in the New Left and the Students
for a Democratic Society.

Ayers joined the Weatherman group in 1969, but went underground with
several associates after the Greenwich Village townhouse explosion in
1970, in which three members (Ted Gold, Terry Robbins, and Diana
Oughton, who was Ayers's girlfriend at the time) were killed while
constructing a bomb. The group planned to bomb Fort Dix Army Base in
New Jersey.

From 1969 until 1975 the group carried out a domestic campaign that
included bombing the Pentagon, the US Capitol, police facilities and
banks. At least one police officer died and several injured.

In 1981, Weathermen and members of the militant group the Black
Liberation Army robbed an armored car in New York state, killing two
police officers and a guard in a shootout before being arrested.

Ayers's interviewed with the New York Times about his book, Fugitive
Days: A Memoir, on September 11, 2001, and opens with his statement:

"I don't regret setting bombs. I feel we didn't do enough."

Ayers later explained that by "no regrets" he meant that he didn't
regret his efforts to oppose the Vietnam War, and that "we didn't do
enough" meant that efforts to stop the war were obviously inadequate
as it dragged on for a decade; the two statements were not intended
to elide into a wish they had set more bombs.

Ayers avoided jail because of prosecutorial misconduct during the
long search for the fugitives of SDS, the Weathermen and other
radical, anti-war groups. Much like Mr. Obama, Professor Ayers feels
he is misunderstood, and much like Barack Obama this statement only
comes out once he is exposed.

Professor Ayers has never retracted his statement to the New York
Times and to this day claims to:

"have never advocated terrorism, never participated in it, never
defended it. The U.S. government, by contrast, does it routinely and
defends the use of it in its own cause consistently."

Setting bombs in the US isn't terrorism but liberating a country and
fighting Islamic terrorist requires anti-war rhetoric. It's funny how
the radical left sorts fact from fiction and advocates peace.

In 1997, Mr. Obama cited Mr. Ayers' work on criminal justice in a
Chicago Tribune article on what prominent Chicagoans were reading.
For a year after the infamous comments in the New York Times, Mr.
Obama served with Mr. Ayers on the board of the Woods Fund of Chicago
and had appeared on various panels together.

Mr. Obama won't discuss how he came to know Mr. Ayers, why he chose
to associate with him and what he thinks of his current opinions
about the US government.

Ayers wife and former Weathermen colleague, Bernardine Dohrn, has
feelings of America that might remind us of other radicals Mr. Obama
associates with.

"There's no way to be committed to non-violence in one of the most
violent societies that history has ever created. I'm not committed to
non-violence in any way."

"Freaks are revolutionaries and revolutionaries are freaks."

The Friends We Keep

The mainstream media has protected Barack Hussein Obama; he has lived
a glorious campaign but things are slowly beginning to get a bit
rough for the candidate who has gone through little scrutiny. Slowly
the past of Mr. Obama is appearing with the help of spiritual
mentor's and even one spouse, Michele Obama.

Radical Recap:

Rev. Jeremy Wright Jr.:

"I heard Ambassador Peck on an interview yesterday. Did anybody else
see him or hear him? He was on Fox News. This is a white man, and he
was upsetting the Fox News commentators to no end. He pointed out -
did you see him, John? - a white man, he pointed out, ambassador,
that what Malcolm X said when he got silenced by Elijah Muhammad was
in fact true - America's chickens are coming home to roost."

"We bombed Hiroshima, we bombed Nagasaki, and we nuked far more than
the thousands in New York and The Pentagon, and we never batted an
eye... and now we are indignant, because the stuff we have done
overseas is now brought back into our own front yards. America's
chickens are coming home to roost."

"Violence begets violence. Hatred begets hatred. And terrorism begets
terrorism. A white ambassador said that y'all, not a black militant.
Not a reverend who preaches about racism. An ambassador whose eyes
are wide open and who is trying to get us to wake up and move away
from this dangerous precipice upon which we are now poised. The
ambassador said the people that we have wounded don't have the
military capability we have. But they do have individuals who are
willing to die and take thousands with them. And we need to come to
grips with that."

"The government gives them the drugs, builds bigger prisons, passes a
three-strike law and then wants us to sing 'God Bless America.' No,
no, no, not God Bless America. God damn America - that's in the Bible
- for killing innocent people. God damn America, as long as she
pretends to act like she is God, and she is supreme. The United
States government has failed the vast majority of her citizens of
African descent."

Tony Rezko:

Barack Obama worked rom 1993 to 2002, with Davis, Miner, Barnhill &
Galland, Rezko's first major officeholder patron and a law firm
representing Rezko, Rezmar, and community groups in partnership with
Rezmar, that helped Rezmar get more than $43 million in government
funding. The firm's then senior partner, Allison S. Davis, was a
member of the Chicago Plan Commission and went into business with Rezko.

On July 31, 1995 the first ever political contributions to Obama were
$300 from a lawyer, a $5,000 loan from a car dealer, and $2,000 from
two food companies owned by Rezko.

Starting in 2003 Rezko was on Obama's U.S. Senate campaign finance
committee, which raised more than $14 million. Rezko threw an early
fundraiser for Obama, and that fundraiser was instrumental in
providing Obama with seed money for his U.S. Senate race. Obama has
since identified over $250,000 in campaign contributions to various
Obama campaigns as coming from Rezko or close associates, and has in
consequence donated almost two thirds of that amount to charity.

In 2005 Obama purchased a new home in the Kenwood District of Chicago
for $1.65M ($300,000 below the original price) on the same day that
Tony Rezko's wife, Rita Rezko, purchased the adjoining empty lot from
the same sellers for the full asking price.

Rezko was under federal investigation for influence-peddling, before
Obama bought a 10 foot (3.0 m) wide strip of Ms. Rezko's property for
$104,500, $60,000 above the assessed value, in 2006.

In June 2007, the Chicago Sun-Times published a story about letters
Obama had written in 1997 to city and state officials in support of a
low-income senior citizen development project headed by Rezko and
partner Allison Davis. The project received more than $14 million in
taxpayer funds, including $885,000 in development fees for Rezko and Davis.

Rashid Khalidi:

In 2000, Rashid Khalidi, a former PLO operative who justified
Palestinian terrorism as contributing to "political enlightenment,"
threw a fundraiser for his friend Barack Obama.

Rashid Khalidi today is a professor at Columbia University and is a
close associate of Barack Obama. Before getting his job at Columbia
University Rashid Khalidi was a Middle East professor at the
University of Chicago, where he befriended Barack Hussein Obama.

In 2000 Khalidi held a successful fundraiser for Mr. Obama.

On Palestinian violence Khalidi glorifies anti-Israel violence as
contributing to "political enlightenment"[vii] and unsurprisingly
admires those who carry it out.

A top official at the Pentagon during former President George H. W.
Bush's Administration and a former CIA intelligence officer maintains
that Barack Obama and former Weather Underground honcho William Ayers
funneled money to Professor Khalidi.

Khalidi serves on the faculty of Columbia University in New York and
is best known as the professor who invited Iranian President
Ahmedinejad to visit Columbia University after he finished his speech
at the United Nations.

As director of the Woods Fund board in Chicago Barack Obama granted
Khalidi's controversial anti-Israel group the Arab American Action
Network, or AAAN, $40,000 in 2001 and $35,000 in 2002.

At a special farewell dinner for Khalidi in 2003 then Illinois
Senator Barack Obama reminisced about meals prepared by Khalidi's
wife, Mona, and conversations that had challenged his thinking.

His many talks with the Khalidis, Obama said, had been "consistent
reminders to me of my own blind spots and my own biases. . . . It's
for that reason that I'm hoping that, for many years to come, we
continue that conversation ­ a conversation that is necessary not
just around Mona and Rashid's dinner table," but around "this entire
world." (LA Times)

Bill Ayers:

Professor Ayers lived in the same Chicago neighborhood Obama did, had
donated $200 to Obama's 2001 state senate campaign.

In 1995, State Senator Alice Palmer introduced her chosen successor,
Barack Obama, to a few of the district's influential liberals at the
home of two well known figures on the local left: William Ayers and
Bernardine Dohrn.

"I can remember being one of a small group of people who came to Bill
Ayers' house to learn that Alice Palmer was stepping down from the
senate and running for Congress," said Dr. Quentin Young, a prominent
Chicago physician and advocate for single-payer health care, of the
informal gathering at the home of Ayers and his wife, Dohrn.
"[Palmer] identified [Obama] as her successor." Obama and Palmer
"were both there," he said.

"Ayers was a terrorist. Bernardine Dohrn was a terrorist. Ayers has
never offered one word of apology - he glories in it, thinks it's
terrific. And that to me is not what I would call acceptable or
mainstream behavior," said Dan Polsby, a former law professor at
Northwestern who is now dean of George Mason University Law School.
"If Obama takes a different view on that - well, OK, that's data about Obama."

"When I first met Barack Obama, he was giving a standard, innocuous
little talk in the living room of those two
legends-in-their-own-minds, Bill Ayers and Bernardine Dohrn," Maria
Warren wrote on her blog in 2005.

"They were launching him - introducing him to the Hyde Park community
as the best thing since sliced bread."

When contacted the various Hyde Park Liberals will not make further
comments about any meetings between Ayers, Dohrn and other activists
only expressing concern that Republicans would use accounts of the
event for "left-baiting." Remarkably, the Leftist crowd now considers
Obama a bit too "conservative" for their liking.

We must realize that on the surface Obama and Ayers had "limited"
contact but when we put the Obama associations together and his
willingness to "talk" with terrorist regimes around the world we see a pattern.

In the 1960s, Bill Ayers and Bernardine Dohrn saw themselves as urban
guerrillas who just might be able to overthrow the US government and
force an end to the Vietnam War. They were members of the Weather
Underground, a radical offshoot of the antiwar movement, who went
into hiding for a decade after a bomb accidentally exploded, killing
three members of the group. (Washington Post)

Ayers was a son of privilege ­ his father was the chairman of the
utility Commonwealth Edison ­ who decided in the late 1960s that
violence was needed to transform the country. After he disappeared,
he was charged with joining the bombing conspiracy and with crossing
state lines to incite a riot.

Are we to suddenly dismiss the past of Ayers and his wife because of
time and connecting dots to Barack Obama? Many would like to present
the case that this is old news but the erstwhile radicals are not
repentant. Liberals use the term, "social justice" and "mainstream
liberal good works" to reconcile the differences of past and present,
terrorism and good social activism.

Ayers and Dohrn turned themselves in shortly after their second son
was born. They raised Chesa Boudin, the son of Weather Underground
parents imprisoned for a 1981 Brink's robbery that left three dead.
Boudin won a Rhodes Scholarship in 2002.

Dohrn pleaded guilty to a state charge and later served seven months
for refusing to give a handwriting sample to federal authorities. She
told a reporter that the FBI already had a sample, and that she
considered grand juries "illegal and coercive." Today Dohrn is a
professor of law at the prestigious Northwestern University.

When Obama was asked about Ayers during Wednesday's debate, he
described him as "a guy who lives in my neighborhood." He said he
does not exchange ideas with him "on a regular basis." How about on
an irregular basis or are we back into Obama denial.

"The notion that somehow as a consequence of me knowing somebody who
engaged in detestable acts 40 years ago, when I was 8 years old,
somehow reflects on me and my values, doesn't make much sense," Obama
answered in his most recent debate.

How old was Obama when Hamas was established, the Mullahs took over
Iran, North Korea became an oppressive Communist state and Syria
became home to Hezzbollah?

Does this now make a difference? Does Mr. Obama feel his past is not
to be questioned, not be analyzed; he is not to be vetted?

Associations become a sum of the total parts of a person and Mr.
Obama has links to some very disturbing people. Suddenly the public
is asking too many questions and queries to the "colleagues" are not answered.

Obama noted that President Bill Clinton had commuted the prison terms
of Weather Underground members Susan L. Rosenberg, arrested with 740
pounds of dynamite and weapons, and Linda Sue Evans, convicted of
participating in eight bombings, including the one at the Capitol.
Does this make the crime more palatable to Mr. Obama? Bill Clinton
commuted sentences and pardoned a host of sordid individual on a pace
that set a record for last minute Presidential pardons. Does that
erase the crimes?

Obama's association with Ayers is small but I don't believe trivial.
Once again, Obama has associations with a host of radicals with
current and past anti-American beliefs. Mr. Obama has effectively
avoided intense scrutiny but the party election isn't over and Mr.
Obama must come clean, which we doubt he can.

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

George Stephanopoulos and Charlie Gibson of ABC News weren't just
criticized for their tough questioning of Barack Obama during last
week's Democratic debate. They were flayed, writes John Fund.

According to liberal journalists, all these topics are irrelevant.
Josh Marshall of Talking Points Memo said they were "frivolous items
. . . that presumed the correctness of Republican agenda items." Mr.
Obama agreed, dismissing the items brought up by ABC as "manufactured issues."

John Harris and Jim VandeHei of Politico.com conclude that the heat
directed at ABC News over its debate:

"is the clearest evidence yet that the Clintonites are fundamentally
correct in their complaint that [their candidate] has been flying
throughout this campaign into a headwind of media favoritism for Obama."

Mr. Fund continues:

But Mr. Obama, who sports the most liberal voting record of any
senator according to the nonpartisan National Journal, has avoided
much criticism of that record by implying that any conventional
critique of his issue positions represent the tired politics of the
past. If he had his way, questions about character and questions
about issues would be off-limits.

Obama really needs to recalibrate his sense of moral equivalence.
Obama again demonstrated his utter unwillingness to risk giving
offense to his own side by pairing off an unrepentant Weatherman
bomber with a US Senator; evidently he has run over relatives and is
reduced to pitching friends under the bus. Indeed!

--------

Ignoring our Better Angels

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/paul-w-bucha/ignoring-our-better-angel_b_98289.html

by Paul W. Bucha
Posted April 23, 2008

I have been following the comments of both Senator Hillary Clinton
and Senator John McCain on the William Ayers situation. As Senator
Obama has said, it does not make much sense for him to be held
accountable for the actions or words of someone else especially when
those actions or words occurred when Senator Obama was 8 years old.

It is also disappointing for John McCain to jump into the fray given
the lesson he taught all of us about forgiveness and understanding
that some of us do things when we are young that we later regret.
Specifically I am talking about the case of David Ifshin, head of the
National Student Association in 1970. During the later years of
Vietnam War, Mr. Ifshin traveled to Hanoi on numerous occasions and
while there regularly broadcast radio messages to the American
soldiers in the South that they were guilty of war crimes against the
innocent people of North Vietnam. He proclaimed that the war was
illegal and immoral. He was the Tokyo Rose or, as William Buckley
commented, the Little Lord Haw Haw of the Vietnam War. He was also
the host of the infamous Jane Fonda trip to North Vietnam. In short,
Mr. Ifshin committed not acts of verbal offense or acts of protest at
home, but acts which most who knew of them, considered treason.

After the war, Mr. Ifshin, like so many of the young people involved
in the antiwar movement, went on with their lives. He worked in
Israel and subsequently achieved his law degree. He became a
well-respected member of the Washington DC legal community and
lobbied effectively for the State of Israel. He was general counsel
to both the Mondale and Clinton presidential campaigns. David Ifshin
was a close personal friend of the Clinton's and near his death he
spent long hours with his friend Bill Clinton.

To this day, many Vietnam veterans cannot forgive nor forget the role
David Ifshin played in their war. I was one Vietnam Vet that found
his presence among the closest Clinton advisors to be sufficient
grounds to work tirelessly, if unsuccessfully, for the reelection of
President George H.W. Bush. Upon his death in 1996, David Itshin was
eulogized on the Senate floor by none other than Senator John McCain.
Senator McCain found the grace in his own conscience to forgive the
detestable acts committed by David Ifshin on his many trips to the
enemy home land during the Vietnam War. When McCain eulogized Ifshin,
I was embarrassed to admit, I had not had the grace to forgive and to
move beyond the Vietnam War and the ripping force it shot into the
entire nation. If McCain could forgive, what issues could I possibly
have? In his eulogy he spoke on behalf of the better angels in all of us.

So it is deeply troubling that both Senator Clinton and Senator
McCain, find it politically expedient to now attempt to use the mere
fact that Senator Obama and Mr. Ayers have served on a board together
and live in the same neighborhood, to fan the flames of political
personal destruction and "gotcha" while hiding the fact that they
like so many others have known individuals, who in their younger
years did things that were affronts to this entire nation and who as
they matured became close friends who were welcomed into the highest
offices of this land.

I am not surprised that Senator Clinton would use the Ayers board
membership to cut and slice her way to a few votes, but I would have
hoped that John McCain would remember the time he taught all of us
about the grace of forgiveness and the need to grow beyond the
tumultuous times of the Vietnam era.
--

Paul "Bud" Bucha is a West Point Graduate and of the Graduate School
of Business at Stanford. He was awarded the Medal of Honor for
service in Vietnam. He is now a supporter for Barack Obama for President.

--------

Barack Obama, the Weather Underground, and the Spirit of Revolution

http://www.townhall.com/Columnists/SandyRios/2008/04/28/barack_obama,_the_weather_underground,_and_the_spirit_of_revolution

By Sandy Rios
Monday, April 28, 2008

My first memory of the impact of it all was when I was 13, sitting in
my sister's apartment, watching the evening news with Walter
Cronkite. "103 American GIs killed today," he intoned, as film of
soldiers shooting Vietnamese rolled by. The nightly news always began
that way … never a story of heroism or victory, just body bags and
carnage as the anti-war media chose to report it.

Next was footage of Los Angeles burning, riots and looting, shootings
on college campuses, all with flag burning as a backdrop. In the
midst of it all, my sister's Middle Eastern boyfriend gleefully
shouted, "Come on America, destroy yourself!" I wanted to hit him. I
tried to argue, but he mocked me. Because of my youth, I was no match
for his vocabulary and knowledge. I felt inadequate to express the
overpowering emotions of anger and rage. And pain. My beloved
country, falling apart at the seams with a representative of one of
its future enemies sitting right next to me, cheering it on. War vs.
peace, communism vs. freedom, law vs. lawlessness, racism, anarchy
and the future threat of radical Islam­all converged in that one
room. And the passion that comes from love of country and all that is
good began its deep roots in me.

I grew up in the midst of that turbulence. My peers wanted to "make
love, not war," and reduce peace to two fingers held high with a
silly, drug-induced grin. Others of my generation wanted more. They
wanted violent revolution. John Lennon made it sound vogue as they
declared their intention to "kill the pigs" and obtain the violent
overthrow of the United States Government.

Most were just foolish and spoiled, but others were serious as Hell
itself. Members of the Weather Underground were part of the latter
group. Formed in 1969, Bernadine Dohrn and William Ayers quickly
moved into leadership. They bombed, rioted and threatened, "We're
coming after you!" Ayers encouraged followers to "kill all the rich
people … bring the revolution home. Kill your parents." And his
apologetic for the 1972 bombing the Pentagon? The "bastards were
finally going to get what was coming to them."

"Strawberry Statement," "Getting Straight," "Woodstock,"…cult films
reflecting the movement, are not nostalgic memories for me, but
jolting reminders of a very dark and shameful time.

Charles Manson and his "family" shocked the world when they brutally
murdered young actress Sharon Tate in her home along with friends,
including coffee heiress, Abigail Folger. They wrote "Helter
Skelter," in blood on the walls, and the Beatles offered another tune
to commemorate the event. Like the Weather Underground, Charlie
Manson wanted the violent overthrow of the government. Bernadine
Dohrn offered her adulation, "Dig it! First they killed those pigs,
then they ate dinner in the same room with them. They even shoved a
fork into the victim's stomach! Wild!" Tate was nine months pregnant.

Fast forward to 2008. As I prepared to do an in-depth report on the
Weather Underground, my producer uncovered some fascinating footage
which brought me to tears. It was like going back in time when I saw
Dohrn, Ayers and others spouting their poison to the black and white
backdrop of those frightening days. Those dark revolutionaries were
not experiencing the passing phase of foolish youth; they were the
bold spokesmen for a deep and evil spirit of lawlessness that nearly
prevailed just three decades ago. And they were speaking not in 1972,
but in 2007.

Now Bernadine Dohrn is an assistant Law Professor at Northwestern
University and her husband, William Ayers is a professor of Education
at UIC, both "respected" members of the community, says Chicago Mayor
Richard Daley. Both guilty of violence that resulted in death, both
guilty of rebellion that aimed at destroying our country­and both
unrepentant. "I don't regret setting bombs. I feel we didn't do
enough," said Ayers in 2001. "I found the whole idea of turning
myself in revolting," chronicled Dohrn in a PBS documentary.
"Rebellion is inevitable. I remain committed to the struggle ahead,"
she said as she surrendered to authorities in 1980. "We have
extraordinary responsibility inside the heart of the monster," she
warned in 2007. "Guilty as sin and free as a bird," boasted Ayers.

So when I learned of the connection between Ayres, Dohrn and Barack
Obama, I was alarmed. In 1995, Dohrn and Ayres hosted a campaign
fundraiser for Obama. Ayers contributed to Obama's campaign.
Bernadine Dohrn and both Barack and Michelle Obama were employed by
the Sidley and Austin Law Firm. Bernadine, like Barack was involved
with "community organizing," a milk-toast term for "Rules for
Radicals" author, Saul Alinsky's leftist schemes. Obama and Ayers
have appeared on academic panels together. While Obama has tried to
downplay this as coincidental, his participation with Ayers on a 1997
University of Chicago panel was actually put together by the
associate Dean of Student Services, Michelle Obama. Their kids have
attended the same schools, and when the Obamas moved a little more
than a year ago (with the questionable financial help of the wife of
indicted Syrian National, Tony Rezko), it just happened to be in the
same neighborhood as Ayers. Both Obama and Ayers served on the Woods
Foundation Board, which along with funding "community organizing,"
agreed to give $75,000 to the Arab American Action Network, cofounded
by PLO-and-Yasser-Arafat apologist, Rashid Kalidi.

But it's the underlying, dark vision for America that they share that
concerns me most. While Ayers and Dohrn hate capitalism, Barack
chooses careful terms like "fairness" to hint at evening the score on
the "wealthy." In the '70s, the Weather Underground wanted "smash
monogamy." Group orgies were their attempt to break down all sexual
taboos. Today William Ayers is a powerful advocate for "Queering
Elementary Education" and advancing the cause of gay, straight,
transgender and lesbian rights. The gay journalist Andrew Sullivan
has declared Barack Obama the dream candidate of the homosexual movement.

"Revolution" versus "change." "Capitalist pigs" versus "the wealthy."
"Smash monogamy" versus "other definitions of family." The revolution
of the '60s and '70s was bolder in language and action, but today's
manifestation is in some ways more threatening because terms are
hidden, intentions blurred and the "opiate of the masses"­at least
right now­is not religion, but Barack Obama.

"The spirit of the revolution will live on!" declared Dohrn in 1980.

All of these same old ideas, converging at once on a new generation,
with little memory of this past. We want to "connect to … rebuild on
… the spirit of rebellion …of resistance," said Ayres just last
November. "The secret power of lawlessness is already at work," wrote
the Apostle Paul in the first century. Indeed.

That same passion I had as a 13-year-old girl has been awakened
within me once again. Fortunately, thanks to the intervening years, I
have vocabulary and knowledge on my side this time. I recognize the
danger and will not be silent.
--

Sandy Rios is host of the "Sandy Rios Show", heard weekdays from 3 to
5PM on WYLL AM1160 in Chicago and serves as President of Culture
Campaign, a non-profit dedicated to awakening a sleeping army of
concerned citizens never before involved in public policy.

.

Scholars Examine Impact of 1960s

Scholars Examine Impact of 1960s

http://www.newuniversity.org/main/article?slug=scholars_examine_impact_of151

[April 2008]
by Daniel Johnson

Professors from across the nation and overseas met at UC Irvine to
discuss how the 1960s impacts the present at "The Future of the
Sixties: Radicalism, Reform, Reaction," an event held in Humanities
Instructional Building 135 on April 25 to 26.

The event was sponsored by the UCI Humanities Center, the Dr. Samuel
N. Jordan Center for Persian Studies and Culture and the Department
of English.

Five lectures were held throughout the event, with each lecture
followed by a respondent who analyzed and enriched the work of the
previous speaker. The conference also included two faculty
roundtables and a showing of the 1969 film, "Medium Cool."

The first lecture, titled "The Death of Francis Scott Key and Other
Dirges: The New American Studies and Music," was presented by John
Carlos Rowe of the University of Southern California. The
presentation analyzed trends in music in the 1960s, as well as
interpret individual songs.

At one point in the lecture, Rowe responded to an audience member who
declared that the song "I Can't Get No Satisfaction" was the most
revolutionary pop tune of the 1960s, but wanted deeper analysis of
the song. Rowe addressed how the song, despite showing signs of
transnationalism – which means to spread beyond one's own nation –
contradicts itself with supernationalism, which confines oneself to
one's own nation.

"Within the 1960s you see a transnationalism often contradicted by a
supernationalism, from which we see the fallout," Rowe said.

Following Rowe's speech, Christopher Newfield of UC Santa Barbara was
up next with a lecture entitled, "Unmaking the Public University: The
Political Meanings of the Downsized Middle Class."

Newfield began his presentation by addressing what he feels has been
an enduring trait of the 1960s: the ability to have an open exchange
of ideas, without fear of having them infringed upon by private interests.

"One of the relevant dimensions of the 1960s … is the circulation of
intellectual properties and ideas in a public sphere that is not
bounded by private interest and not appropriable in a simple way,"
Newfield said.

Shifting his attention to financial concerns, Newfield discussed
that, though America's true middle class first emerged in the 1960s,
it has been under attack ever since. Still, according to Newfield,
the 1960s gave birth to the middle class, which continues to
challenge traditional elites as it has done since its inception.

"The 1960s, which is still very much alive … is alive in part because
it is the decade when the middle class is redefined as not bad, as
not bourgeois, as a formation in which middle-class and working-class
people are joined and in which different races are starting at least
to come together in a way that is very threatening to traditional
elites," Newfield said.

Following a lunch break, Russell Berman of Stanford University gave
his presentation, "Radicalism as Reaction: From Left-Fascism to
Campus Anti-Semitism." The presentation focused on changing political
trends of the 1960s and the impact that increasingly left-minded
thinking had on college campuses.

Friday's faculty roundtable focused on forms of freedom and dissent.
Featuring professors George Marcus, Nasrin Rahimieh and Frank
Wilderson of the anthropology, comparative literature and
African-American studies departments, respectively, topics included
how the uprisings in the late 1960s paved the way for freedom of
expression on college campuses and how challenging conservative
society became widespread.

In concluding the Friday event, the UCI Film and Video Center held a
screening of "Medium Cool," a film about a television news cameraman
and an Appalachian migrant worker who meet in Chicago on the eve of
the 1968 Democratic National Convention.

Ian Hunter of the University of Queensland, Australia opened up the
second day of the conference with his lecture, "The Spirit of Theory
in the University." The talk focused on the concept of theory in the
post 1960s as being a work in progress and also emphasized the role
of 18th-century philosopher Immanuel Kant's work in provoking 1960s thought.

According to Hunter, while Kant believed in a spirituality consisting
of space and time in which metaphysics and Christianity were
harmonized, the 1960s thought was based on a continuous series of
tropes and metaphors, which constantly reformed the self.

The next presentation was the second faculty roundtable featuring
Anke Biendarra, Mark Goble, Peter Krapp and Mark Poster, who
represented the German studies, English, film and media studies/media
theory and film and media studies/critical theory departments, respectively.

Focusing on life in Germany during the 1960s, Biendarra addressed how
the radicalism of German students resulted in the formation of
guerilla groups such as the Red Army Faction.

"To think of the 1960s and their aftermath is also to think of the
Red Army Faction [RAF], which of course grew out of the student
movement and its legacy," Biendarra said.

Biendarra went onto note how RAF surprisingly entered German popular
culture as its membership adorned the cover pages of German fashion magazines.

As this occurred, the group simultaneously threatened the established
German government through violent actions, until the group failed to
be a significant threat in 1993.

Goble addressed a far-different topic discussing how advertising
played out in the 1960s and continues to utilize the same mechanics
today. Goble expressed this through the example of Mac-versus-PC
advertising as one company attempts to label itself as the hip
product over its square competitor.

Krapp discussed cyber culture and three different innovations that
came about in computer gaming in the 1960s.

First, Krapp spoke of the virtual world, which amalgamated strategy,
patience and configuration. Second, Krapp analyzed networking through
adventure games, which utilize decision-making and role-playing.
Lastly, Krapp described the graphic user interface, which was first
displayed in the game Pong, and in later action games.

Poster's speech tied technology into student activism as he recalled
how, following the U.S. invasion of Cambodia, students at UCI took
over the administrative building. During the course of these events
Poster recalled that the first connection between a computer at UCI
and Stanford was made, which he did not see the significance of at
the time in the midst of all the political turmoil.

The portion of the roundtable that dealt with technology appealed to
various members of the audience such as Adam Kaiserman, a fourth-year
graduate student in the English department.

"It was great, it was informative. It certainly puts a perspective on
the humanitarian aspect of technology," Kaiserman said.

Jean-Michel Rabate closed out the series with his lecture "68+1:
Lacan's annee erotique" which focused on the May 1968 student
uprising in France. Through this uprising students demonstrated that
the youth in modern democracies could change the foundation of an
established government, as the De Gaulle government came toppling
down because of the students' actions.

Over the course of the conference, a variety of topics were addressed
and opinions expressed that were not always agreeable. Still, Sami
Siegelbaum, a third-year Ph.D. candidate in the visual studies
department, addressed one aspect of the 1960s that he would like to
see return.

"For undergrads and classes in the university, the legacy of the
1960s that should be revived is having the classroom as a place of
open discussion and debate of ideas," Siegelbaum said.

.

Rudi Dutschke and the German student movement in 1968

Rudi Dutschke and the German student movement in 1968

http://www.socialistworker.co.uk/art.php?id=14748

29 April 2008

The events of 1968 had a major impact across the world. German
activist Volkhard Mosler looks at the movement in West Germany and
the politics of its leader Rudi Dutschke
--

The political storm that broke out across the world 40 years ago
affected every part of the globe. But with much of the media focusing
on the student protests and mass strikes in France in May 1968, it is
possible to miss the significance of some of the other revolts.

West Germany, which was divided from East Germany due to the Cold
War, saw major protests that challenged the ruling order. This mass
discontent of young people and workers developed throughout the 1960s
to explode late in the decade.

In 1959, a survey of students' political views in West Germany found
that only 9 percent considered themselves to be committed democrats
and that the vast majority would not resist an undemocratic system.

This was not an astonishing discovery. The Labour-like SPD and the
Communist Party in West Germany had lost about half of their total
membership between 1949 and 1956.

The Conservative CDU won 51 percent of the vote in the 1957 general
election. Its leader Konrad Adenauer's main slogan was "All roads of
socialism lead to Moscow."

But by 1968 Germany was experiencing a revolutionary tide of youth
protests. Its leading force was the SDS, a socialist student
organisation. The SDS had been expelled from the SPD in 1961 for
"left deviation".

In the early 1960s the SDS had about 600 members in 30 universities,
including in West Berlin. When I joined the SDS in 1963 it hardly
engaged in any practical activities apart from lectures about Marxism.

But the SDS would grow to about 2,000 members by 1967 while
transforming itself into a revolutionary current. This change was
partly due to the weakening of anti-Communist ideas in society, the
opposition to the US's war in Vietnam and the surprise of an economic
recession in 1966.

The first "grand coalition" of the CDU and the SPD, the overcrowding
of universities and the reform of higher education all added to the
growing disillusionment of young people.

It was also the intervention of a group of left wing students that
helped the SDS to turn sharply left.

In 1965 a group of seven originally anarchist students joined the
SDS. Rudi Dutschke, who came from East Germany, was one of them.

Rudi and his friends tried to win others to their group inside the
SDS. Within three years his influence in the organisation had grown massively.

Some of his friends founded a student commune in 1967 and fell back
into cultural politics based on "happenings" and the ideas of sexual
liberation advocated by the psychoanalyst Wilhelm Reich.

Individuals

But Rudi himself came very close to revolutionary Marxism. By 1966
the SDS had two main factions in its ranks – the older members, known
as the traditionalists, and the younger ones with Rudi as their main
leader, known as the anti-authoritarians.

Rudi and his supporters were fascinated by the importance of
"subjectivity" – the ability of human actions to change the course of history.

In Rudi's view the Marxism of the traditionalists was "one-sided" as
it stressed the "objective" factors in history. He wrote that this
"liquidated the free will of the individual, the group, the party –
everything becomes inevitable. As communism, the classless society,
is a decided question, we do not need to be afraid of atomic warfare."

In 1966 the two currents clashed. The leaders of the traditionalists
had produced an educational programme.

They argued, "Like the workers who could develop only trade union
consciousness by themselves without the teachings of the party, the
radical democratic consciousness of the students can only develop
towards socialist consciousness by the teaching of the SDS."

According to them socialism could only come through the teaching of
the party, not by experience of the class struggle from below.

Reacting to this, Rudi and his followers argued for an orientation on
"provocative action". They believed that police brutality would teach
students more about the nature of the state than reading books about it.

The philosopher Herbert Marcuse, who spoke at mass student meetings
in Germany, also influenced Rudi.

Marcuse had written an article in 1965 called "Repressive Tolerance",
which was widely read. It argued that the forces of law and order
would always protect the established social hierarchy and that
"counter-force" was needed to overcome it.

Marcuse concluded, "When the oppressed use force, they will not forge
new chains but break the old ones."

Marcuse taught the revolutionary students that the use of
counter-force is justified and that those who renounce violence on
principle have already succumbed to defeat.

Marcuse called for breaking with the "repressive tolerance" of the
rulers. Under this, he argued, the oppressed were allowed to speak
freely and even demonstrate "peacefully", but the rulers would still
use all means at their disposal to keep them at the bottom of society.

Dutschke's influence was growing in the organisation. In September
1967 he won the support of the majority in the SDS, against the
traditionalists' argument that radical action would antagonise the
working class and lead to the students' isolation.

Disturbance

When the Shah, Iran's dictator, visited Berlin in June 1967, the SDS
organised demonstrations against him. A police bullet killed student
Benno Ohnesorg at a protest on 2 June.

This sparked the first general wave of student protests that shook
the universities and the big cities.

The philosopher Jürgen Habermas accused Dutschke of "voluntarism" a
few days later. He claimed that Dutschke's notion of calculated
disturbance to unmask the veiled force of the state was mistaken, as
there was not a revolutionary situation in Germany.

Dutschke, he said, was putting the lives of other students at risk.

Rudi answered that organised counter-force would be necessary for
protection and that "the accusation of voluntarism gives me honour".
He argued that the "objectivity" of Habermas served only to hold back
the rising movement.

But Habermas was not completely mistaken in his accusations. The
political situation in Germany was not revolutionary. The use of
force would be justified when there was an objectively revolutionary situation.

Dutschke and his supporters in the SDS argued that in one sense
capitalism was always in a revolutionary situation. They meant by
this that there was enough social wealth for a world without hunger
and wars for all humankind, if only society was run for our benefit.

This is, of course, correct. But how do these conditions become a
situation in which a successful revolution is possible?

In his diary Rudi gives the example of Che Guevara and the guerrilla
warfare he undertook in Bolivia.

He said, "Revolutionaries must not just wait for the objective
conditions for a revolution. By creating a popular 'armed focus' they
can create the objective conditions for a revolution by subjective initiative."

Overthrow

And in a speech to the SDS's conference in September 1967 Rudi stated
that the "propaganda of shooting" in the Third World must be combined
with the "propaganda of the deed" in Germany.

This brought together the ideas of Che Guevara and the 19th century
Russian anarchist Mikhail Bakunin.

A group of people around the SDS drew the conclusion from this
analysis that armed struggle in the form of urban guerrilla warfare
was needed to overthrow the system. The Red Army Faction (RAF) of
Andreas Baader and Ulrike Meinhoff developed from this.

Rudi was too much of a revolutionary realist to go along with such
adventurism. He argued that to call for the assassination of bosses
or ministers would be a mistake as those figures could be easily replaced.

There were other weaknesses in Rudi's interpretation of Marxism.
Drawing on Bakunin and the anarchists, he would call his faction in
the SDS "anti-authoritarian". Yet this had an ambiguous meaning.

Firstly it meant that the struggle had to be directed against German
society at large and a state that was still very much affected by the
fascism of the Nazi dictatorship.

But it also meant that all the organising structures of the SDS had
to be fought as "authoritarian". By doing this Rudi and his
"anti-authoritarian" faction inadvertently helped to destroy the SDS,
dissolving it into the movement.

There was another important weakness in Rudi's ideas. Under the
influence of Marcuse he had written off the working class of the
developed countries as being unable to be the agents of revolutionary change.

According to him, the working class had been bought off by a high
standard of living and by the propaganda of the ruling classes and
their media.

It was the task of the student vanguard to use the universities as
"safety zones and as social bases from where the struggle against the
institutions, the struggle for cheap student meals and for state
power" could be fought.

There were huge battles in West Germany in 1968. This included the
Vietnam-Congress in Berlin in February, which was attended by 5,000
revolutionary students and young workers – I was there with 20 young
chemical workers and apprentices.

The young fascist Josef Bachmann shot Rudi in the head in April 1968.
After this 50,000 young people blocked the delivery of the Bild
newspaper, which had called upon its readers to "eliminate the troublemakers".

A month later there was another wave of university occupations and
demonstrations against an emergency law giving a future government
all the means to shut down parliament. But again and again police forces won.

The solution to this puzzle was shown by the great mass strike of
workers in France in May 1968 that shook the ruling class. It showed
the power that workers have to change the world.

Rudi died in 1979 later from the effects of the shooting, which had
destroyed large parts of his brain. But millions of people around the
world continue to be inspired by the struggles of 1968 that he played
such a key role in.

.

Orangeburg survivors call for for ‘historical reckoning’

Orangeburg survivors call for for 'historical reckoning'

http://greenvilleonline.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080427/NEWS01/804270315/1011/NEWS03

Many legislators cool to independent inquiry into civil-rights-era tragedy 

By Tim Smith • CAPITAL BUREAU
April 27, 2008

COLUMBIA -- Dan T. Carter had just begun his prize-winning career as
a historian 40 years ago and was teaching at the University of
Maryland when he said he called friends about the shooting deaths of
three black students at the hands of white state troopers on the
campus of South Carolina State University the night before.

News stories, he said, claimed the shootings, which also wounded 28,
were the result of an "exchange of gunfire."

"I think what upset them most was that the media had immediately
swallowed this notion, and one of them kept yelling to me on the
phone, 'We didn't have any guns. Nobody here was shooting,' " Carter said.

Decades later, shooting survivors, families of those killed and many
black state lawmakers want an independent panel to investigate what
happened. They're hoping the facts will change the first impression
many had: that the shootings were the fault of a violent student
protest spurred by outside agitators.

The idea of a fact-finding review has been endorsed by former Gov.
Jim Hodges, Reggie Lloyd, a former U.S. attorney and chief of the
State Law Enforcement Division, Charleston Mayor Joe Riley, and
former S.C. Supreme Court Chief Justice Ernest Finney Jr.

But state legislative leaders have been cool to the idea, arguing
such an inquiry could cause more division than healing. U.S. Rep.
John Conyers, chairman of the U.S. House Judiciary Committee, is
looking into the shootings at the request of a family of one of the
students who was shot, a spokeswoman said.

Nine state troopers faced federal civil rights charges for the
shootings but were acquitted. The FBI and U.S. Justice Department
examined the incident last year as part of a nationwide review of
civil-rights era cold cases. But the FBI declined to re-open an
investigation into the shootings because of the issue of double
jeopardy with the troopers, a spokeswoman said then.

Carter, who spent a lifetime studying the history of the post-Civil
War South, retired from the University of South Carolina last year
after a career that included teaching at Emory University, the
University of Wisconsin, London's Westminster University, Cambridge
University and the University of Genoa.

In addition to authoring a number of prize-winning articles and books
of history looking at the South, Carter also has been a consultant
for several television documentaries and docu-dramas, including
"Scottsboro: An American Tragedy" and "George Wallace: Settin' The
Woods On Fire."

Carter said it is not uncommon for people to resist looking back at a
tragic historical event.

"It's the same struggle we go through all the time when we try to
deal with something a lot of people would rather just forget," he said.

Carter said an argument in favor of reviewing what happened in
Orangeburg is that there has not been a "historical reckoning" of the
shootings like there has been with other civil rights-era incidents.
He also said while Hodges issued a statement of regret and Gov. Mark
Sanford has apologized, there has not been an official state
reckoning with the shootings.

"I think there are a lot of people who say, 'It's one thing for the
governor to say this is not a good thing,'" he said. "But there was
not a full kind of reckoning with what happened, particularly after
the troopers, in effect, were given a pass on the whole thing and acquitted."

Unlike the shooting of students at Kent State, he said, the shootings
at Orangeburg were not the subject of any political or academic analysis.

"The Orangeburg Massacre, because of the timing of it, was just sort
of forgotten in 1968," he said.

Rep. Todd Rutherford of Columbia said he understands the resistance
to re-opening chapters in the state's unpleasant history. He filed a
bill to remove the Statehouse grounds memorial to former Gov. and
U.S. Sen. "Pitchfork" Ben Tillman, a leading white supremacist of his
time. The bill has not received a vote.

"I don't see a problem with looking back at things that happened in
the past to learn from them," he said. "I don't know why there is
such a large segment of the General Assembly that would have a
problem with having a hearing on just what happened and getting to
the root of it so we never go through that awful period again."

Sen. Darrell Jackson, a Columbia pastor, has for years pushed the
idea of a re-examination of the Orangeburg tragedy. He said he still
supports the idea.

"I would feel bad if the federal government did what we were
unwilling to do," he said, referring to possible congressional
hearings on the matter. "I think the state of South Carolina should
take the lead on it. I think there is a way to do it without being
divisive. I'm interested in closure. I think the time is right. If we
don't do it now, we'll be talking about it five years from now."

State Rep. Bakari Sellers, whose father was perhaps the most
prominent survivor of those shot that night, said a panel looking at
the tragedy would have a lot to look at and many who could tell them
what they saw.

"There were 28 people wounded that night," he said. "There were many
witnesses on campus. They can look at the transcripts of my father's
arrest, the same records the board looked at when they pardoned him.
There is a great amount of records out there to be unearthed, to be
discovered and to be analyzed critically."

Carter said the debate highlights the two ways society reacts to a
call to review a painful chapter in its history. One, he said, is to
forget it and focus on the future. The leader of the Legislative
Black Caucus, in fact, said some black lawmakers have not warmed to
the idea of a review of Orangeburg because the tragedy is still too
painful to revisit.

The other way, Carter said, is to re-examine what happened with the
aim of learning from the past. Some lawmakers have argued the tragedy
could be a catalyst for a larger dialogue about race relations in
South Carolina.

"There is no easy way out of it," he said. "There are questions that
not only have never been answered but may be unanswerable. My guess
is that the real questions people often want to ask have to do with
state actions, and those have to do with records that may not be
available or may never have existed in memories, which may no longer
be reliable even if the people have survived. And of course, a lot of
the key people involved at that time are no longer with us."

As difficult as it may be, Carter said, one strong argument in favor
of a fact-finding project would be to correct the impressions many
South Carolinians still have of the shootings.

"Years later, I talked to people who were not racist, at least not by
the standards of the time, and yet 10 years later, they were saying,
'Well it's really up in the air because these guys (the police) were
being shot at and they really didn't know what was happening,' "
Carter said. "It really reminded me how people are sort of
pre-disposed to accept one version. And in that sense, rather than an
official apology for what happened, an official finding of what
happened might lay to rest these continuing questions about it."

.

Earle's latest work embraces peace far more than protest

[2 articles]

Earle's latest work embraces peace far more than protest

http://www.austin360.com/music/content/music/stories/2008/04/0427earle.html

By Michael Hoinski
SPECIAL TO THE AMERICAN-STATESMAN
Sunday, April 27, 2008

Joan Baez set Steve Earle free. The year was 1970 and Earle, 15, was
living the life of a budding anti-war protester in Schertz, about 90
miles south of Austin, when he was dragged to the drive-in with his
family. They arrived late, and all the screens were full except the
one showing "Woodstock." Earle's dad wasn't too stoked about his only
option, but he'd promised his kids a movie ­ save for Steve, who
didn't want to be there in the first place on account of him and his
dad butting heads over just about everything. But when Baez performed
"Amazing Grace" a cappella, an epiphany of monumental proportions was reached.

"I think us beginning to come to some sort of terms about the fact
that I was opposed to the war and he was a government employee in a
military town, you know, began that day," Earle says via cell phone
aboard his tour bus a week before his show tonight in Austin at the
Paramount Theatre.

Earle, now 53, is one of the most politically charged musicians in
the roots-rock game. But his latest album, the Grammy-winning
"Washington Square Serenade," is a much different affair. It reflects
on Earle's move after about 30 years in Nashville to the same street
in New York's Greenwich Village where the cover of "The Freewheelin'
Bob Dylan" was shot ­ that, and the new love of his life, sixth wife
Allison Moorer, who is touring with him in support of her new album,
"Mockingbird."

Songs on "Washington Square Serenade" such as "Tennessee Blues," a
fond farewell to Nashville, and "City of Immigrants," a bear-hug
embrace of the Big Apple that's backed by the world-music tones of
Brazilian band Forro in the Dark, intermingle with "Sparkle and
Shine," an ode to Moorer, and "Steve's Hammer (For Pete)," a paean to
folk pioneer Pete Seeger that calls for laying down, not wielding,
the hammer. The mix creates an album that is more about peace, love
and understanding than it is about protest. Earle is on such a roll
that he even tries his hand at hip-hop on "Satellite Radio," wherein
his half-rap over an electronic beat and an acoustic riff doesn't
just work but sings.

"Serenade" was produced by John King, one half of the Dust Brothers,
the duo who helmed the Beastie Boys' "Paul's Boutique" and Beck's
"Odelay." Earle and King auditioned each other over the Internet,
one-upping, by way of e-mail, versions of Earle's cover of Tom Waits'
"Way Down in the Hole," which Earle had been commissioned to cut for
the fifth and final season of the thoroughly engrossing inner-city
television drama "The Wire."

"It was so the opposite of the way that I normally work, but that's
what this was: intentionally working as far away from my comfort zone
as I could get," Earle says of his move away from the studio and its
cast of armchair critics to the intimate confines of computers. "And
I loved it. I mean, it's not for every situation. There are some
things you've got to be able to look the beast in the eye. But I'm
not afraid of it anymore."

And why should he be afraid ­ of anything, really? He's been to hell
and back. See, in his 30s, Earle was an up-and-comer with two gold
albums under his belt, "Guitar Town" and "Copperhead Road." His
affinity for the needle eventually landed him in jail and out of the
game for a spell. But like Walon, the recovering heroin addict on
HBO's "The Wire" that he played with heart-throttling authenticity,
Earle has no regrets.

"A lot of what 12-step programs are about is not letting regret kill
you 'cause it takes you back out there and it kills you if you spend
too much time on it," he says. "I think I was an addict ­ that I'm an
addict ­ on a genetic level. I think I would have succumbed to this
disease if I had been a carpenter."

Recently, the full-circle dynamic of life played out for Earle on an
almost Shakespearean level. Joan Baez, the person who emancipated him
(and his dad) nearly 40 years ago, unwittingly gave Earle a chance to
pay her back by asking him to produce her forthcoming,
as-yet-untitled album. Slated for release this summer, it features
two songs Earle wrote for it, plus others by Elvis Costello, Eliza
Gilkyson and Patty Griffin.

Too bad Earle's dad, who passed away a couple days after Christmas,
won't be able to rejoice in this divine conception, because, as Earle
says, "It's really, really, really great."

--------

Troubadour Steve Earle makes big return to Mississippi

http://media.www.reflector-online.com/media/storage/paper938/news/2008/04/25/Entertainment/Troubadour.Steve.Earle.Makes.Big.Return.To.Mississippi-3349239.shtml

David Breland
Issue date: 4/25/08

Most would not expect a person that dropped out of high school, took
his first shot of heroin at 13 and went to jail for drugs to be much
of a success, but then you would have never heard the story of Steve
Earle. Earle is that kind of anomaly. When he first burst onto the
scene in the early '80s he was heralded as Nashville's Springsteen.

Now, due to his outspoken political stance he draws more comparisons
to protest singers such as Pete Seeger and Joan Baez, both of whom
are big influences on Earle.

He has since traded Nashville for New York City, addiction for
sobriety and wife number seven for number eight. Now, he is a tour de
force after nailing down two Grammys for his last two album efforts.

Touring behind his latest album Washington Square Serenade, Earle and
his wife, folk rock singer Allison Moorer made a stop Wednesday night
at the Gertrude C. Ford Center for the Performing Arts in Oxford. The
current tour, which started in January in Scotland, is in effect
Earle and Moorer's honeymoon of sorts - the first tour for both since
being wed.

"I did a handful of shows on my own and waited until Allison's record
came out because we tour together," Earle said. "We're sort of seeing
the world from a tour bus, which is what I'm used to."

Moorer opened the show with cuts off her current album Mockingbird.
Her voice has a haunting quality and the reverberation of it and
slow, demure strumming of her guitar made the performance an intimate
experience. Moorer, an Alabama native, dedicated her final song to a
high school friend who was in the audience, the dedication spoken in
her almost whisper-like speaking voice.

Earle came out in full regalia, waved a few times and began playing
"Another Town" off his Transcendental Blues album. Earle alone on
stage with nothing but his acoustic guitar and harmonica has all the
soul and rhythm of a five-piece band turned up to 11. Working through
his back catalog of songs such as "Devil's Right Hand" and "My Old
Friend the Blues" he warmed up the crowd with his classics before
switching to his more current selections.

"This song goes out to what's her name, wherever the hell she is,"
Earle said, introducing the song "Now She's Gone." Switching
harmonicas for the next song, "Goodbye Is All We've Got Left To Say,"
Earle said "same girl, different harmonica" before striking up the
first chord of the song.

Before launching into the somewhat autobiographical "South Nashville
Blues" Earle said, "I reckon all towns have a side of town like this
one." The song, a somewhat firsthand account of Earle's drug-fueled
"vacation in the ghetto" documents his self-destructive romp through
Nashville's rough South side district.

Delving into the songs off Washington Square Serenade, Earle brought
out more of his "band." His current backing band consists of a DJ and
a set of turntables, an uncommon sight to see alongside the
mandolins, acoustic guitars and banjos of Earle's.

The latest album took a new direction to writing an album, Earle
said, but isn't a different approach.

"Some kid unpacking a box of software and tossing out the owner's
manual and getting on there and pushing buttons isn't any different
than any of the kids in Greenwich Village in the '60s buying banjos
and doing their own thing," Earle said.

The beatboxing and samples on the latest record were arrived at in an
unintentional manner.

"The way I arrived at [using] the beats was I thought I was writing a
demo. At first I needed time alone with these songs. They just
sounded really good and the album became what the songs initially
were, which is one person and the songs," Earle said. "The whole
album was kind of based on the idea that hip-hop is folk music too."

Performed live, the new tracks worked well outside the environment of
the studio. Some of the more stellar songs live were the modern
southern drug biopic "Oxycontin Blues" which documents the damage
done by the drug upon rural Appalachia. Earle's farewell to
Nashville, "Tennessee Blues," is enhanced by the presence of the
sampling and beatboxing of the DJ.

Moorer came onstage later to join Earle as duet partner on some
selections including "Days Are Never Long Enough," written by Earle
for him and his wife to sing together.
Before moving onto his more politically-charged songs, Earle
emphasized the change to politics by asking the crowd, "Y'all ready
to talk some politics?"

The question received a loud applause and yells from the crowd,
knowing that whatever was about to come out of Earle's mouth would be
interesting. He began to relate his impressions on the current
presidential race, the country, immigration and of course the war in Iraq.

While singing "Pete's Hammer," his latest political anthem and
tribute to the late '60s protest singer Pete Seeger, Earle stopped in
the middle of the song to ask the audience, "Are y'all tired of this war?"

Continuing on, Earle asked the audience if they believed music could
stop a war and if they didn't they weren't alive during Vietnam.

"Music stopped that [expletive] war," Earle said, referring to the
Vietnam War. "So, I want everybody to sing as loud as you can and if
your neighbor isn't singing you sing loud enough to embarrass them
into singing. You better sing loud 'cause it's a long way to
Washington and you don't want anyone thinking you're a Republican."

After finishing the show with "Way Down In The Hole," which has been
selected as the theme song for HBO's "The Wire," Earle returned to
the stage for an encore.

Performing a personal rendition of "Little Rock and Roller," a song
written for Earle's eldest son, he relayed how this was his first
tour without his father Jack.

The emotion was evident in Earle's face as he paid tribute to his
late father and commemorated the relationship between father and son.

Of course, no night would be complete without what is possibly
Earle's most famous song, "Copperhead Road." Documenting the
generations of the Pettimore family in the song, Earle was in top
form as he wove his way through the new Southern gothic anthem.
Finishing the song, Earle took a bow and greeted his wife who was
waiting stage left.

The crowd in Oxford was receptive of Earle and his new songs and
overall response has been good for his somewhat unorthodox approach
to the latest album.

"I've thrown enough curveballs at my audience, so much doesn't
surprise them," Earle said.

.

1968 was the media's moment

1968 was the media's moment

http://www.variety.com/article/VR1117984683.html?categoryId=2520&cs=1

Instant news, pop culture rose in stormy year

Apr. 25, 2008
By CYNTHIA LITTLETON

The whole world is watching -- and revisiting the era when the
real-time media diaspora as we know it today began to take shape.

Television loves a good anniversary story -- there's no cheaper
programming to produce than clip shows -- but of late TV and other
media outlets have been obsessed with revisiting the events of 1968.
Newsweek declared 1968 to be nothing less than "the year that made us
who we are" in a cover story in November.

Indeed, even in comparison with these turbulent times, 1968 stands
out as a 12-month span of seismic activity, from the assassinations
of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy, to the flowering of
the antiwar movement and Black Power, to the melee between police and
protesters outside the Democratic National Convention in Chicago.

Beyond U.S. borders, the Prague spring and the Soviet invasion of the
former Czechoslovakia captured the world's attention, as did
uprisings and protests on a mass scale in Paris, Rome, Berlin and
Mexico City, among other cities. Even the Cannes Film Festival felt
the pressure of clenched fists that year when helmers including
Francois Truffaut, Jean-Luc Godard, Louis Malle and Roman Polanski
shut down the fest by demanding that their pics be withdrawn from
screenings as a show of solidarity with France's striking workers and
students (and in protest of the government's firing of Henri
Langlois, the head of the Cinematheque Francaise).

With the benefit of hindsight, it's clear 1968 was as much a
watershed year for media and entertainment as it was for world
history, all of it colored by the emergence of a countercultural
movement eager to thumb its nose at authority and social convention.
This was a youth brigade that didn't look, think or act much like
their older siblings, let alone their mothers and fathers.

"The whole world is watching" was a popular protest-march chant of
the time, and it was no idealistic exaggeration. The accessibility of
commercial communications satellites to the major TV networks made it
possible for TV cameras to deliver the world into America's living
rooms like never before.

Historian Mark Kurlansky details the first stirrings of our
all-consuming, instantaneous media culture, of which the Internet is
the apex, in his 2004 book "1968: The Year That Rocked the World."

"In history it is always imprecise to attribute fundamental shifts to
one exact moment. There was 1967 and 1969 and all the earlier years
that made 1968 what it was," Kurlansky writes. "But 1968 was the
epicenter of a shift, of a fundamental change, the birth of our
postmodern media-driven world."

Then as now, the gap between the generations -- between hirsute,
freewheeling hippies and their Greatest Generation parents -- was
inescapable, and that chasm fueled changes in arts, culture, politics
and broader societal attitudes and mores. The notion that the moaning
guitar feedback of the Jimi Hendrix Experience could be hailed as
musical genius was as alien to most people over the age of 40 in 1968
as is the sight of a Facebook page and all its digital extensions to
most over-40 industry executives today.

Gen-'68 were the first Americans to grow up with television as a
household appliance, and they came of age at a time when the
smallscreen was just beginning to fulfill its promise of creating a
global village. The ability to bounce footage or a live signal from
Saigon or Paris or Detroit or Atlanta back to the New York control
rooms of the CBS, NBC and ABC newsrooms made it possible to cover
news events around the world virtually in real time.

"When I did the Korean war with (CBS News anchor) Douglas Edwards, I
waited anywhere from five days to more than a week for the footage to
get back from Korea. There was no satellite. No video that came in
the express mail," recalls Don Hewitt, CBS News alum and creator of
"60 Minutes." "Now you're watching the battles as they fight them."

The immediacy of the coverage that emerged around the time the U.S.
escalated its forces in Vietnam -- only to be embarrassingly
outmaneuvered in early 1968 by the Viet Cong's guerrilla tactics in
the Tet offensive -- had a huge impact not only on the audience, but
on the correspondents who covered the war, Hewitt observed. The facts
gathered by those on the ground were so often in conflict with the
reports coming out of the Pentagon that it could not help but
increase public opposition to the war, and to the onerous draft that
fueled the protest marches.

No less an institution than CBS News anchor Walter Cronkite weighed
in on the intractability of the Vietnam war on the heels of the Tet
debacle. Cronkite was at first reluctant to offer his opinion to
viewers, but he was persuaded by CBS News prexy Richard Salant that
viewers needed a perspective from someone they could trust.

After Cronkite traveled to Vietnam, CBS News produced the docu
"Report from Vietnam by Walter Cronkite," which aired at 10 p.m. on
Feb. 27. In the final minutes of the program, Cronkite was back
behind his familiar desk to offer the one-sentence observation that
is said to have helped seal President Lyndon B. Johnson's decision to
not seek reelection that year.

With the uncontrollable ground conflict, Cronkite noted, "it is
increasingly clear to this reporter that the only rational way out
then will be to negotiate, not as victors but as an honorable people
who lived up to their pledge to defend democracy, and did the best they could."

A big wakeup call to the rising militancy among middle- and
upper-class youth came in April of that year when nearly 1,000
students took over five buildings on the Columbia U. campus for five
days to protest the school's involvement in defense research and what
was viewed as Columbia's mistreatment of its neighbors in Harlem.
That the standoff ended with police beatings and arrests of the
demonstrators in the middle of the night only firmed the resolve of
others to rebel against the Establishment.

Another crystallizing event that television captured with shocking
immediacy was the violence that engulfed the Democratic National
Convention in Chicago, most of it instigated by Chicago police.

Students for a Democratic Society and media savvy activists like
Abbie Hoffman and Jerry Rubin had sought for months -- even before
the June 5 assassination of Kennedy -- to rally tens of thousands of
protesters outside the convention. In the end, only a few thousand
showed up in late August, but it was enough to spark several nights
of made-for-TV melees. The sight of Chicago police clubbing and
beating longhairs in the park a few miles away from the convention
site added a disturbing exclamation point to what had been a long, hot summer.

As Kurlansky observed: "It was one of those moments of 1968
television magic, something ordinary enough today but was so new and
startling at the time that no one who had their television sets on
has ever forgotten. Rather than taking the time to edit, process,
analyze and package the film for tomorrow night's news -- what people
were used to television doing -- the networks just ran it."

Haskell Wexler, famed d.p. and helmer, was in the right place at the
right moment to capture this history-in-the-making with his
directorial debut, "Medium Cool," much of which was shot on location
during the upheaval of the convention. It wasn't just luck -- Wexler
had paid attention to the efforts to organize a mass protest in his
hometown around the Democratic Convention.

"What led us to Chicago was a visceral response to a war that we were
lied (to about), and young people who were resenting authority in
obvious ways -- you saw it in their dress and their hair and their
language and the dope they used," Wexler says. "The political system
was not being responsive at all to the young antiwar people."

Wexler was hip enough to the changing times to make part of the movie
a look at how the media's role in covering social unrest was
changing. For the director, the shift was encapsulated in a brief,
unstaged scene in "Medium Cool" in which protesters yell at an NBC
News truck as it leaves a chaotic protest scene.

"They're yelling, 'NBC, come back, come back,' " he recalls. "In our
society, the urgent need for visibility is essential."

Elsewhere on the front lines of pop culture, Gen-'68's taste in
movies and movie stars was utterly foreign to most of the executives
and talent who ruled Hollywood through the turbulent decade when Old
Hollywood faded to black. Goodbye John Wayne and Rock Hudson; hello
Jack Nicholson and Peter Fonda.

Helmer Peter Bogdanovich, who made his studio-pic debut in 1968 with
the suspense thriller "Targets," recalls making an observation in the
"dark period" for the biz in the years before '68 that was more
prescient than he could have known at the time.

"I made a joke that the easiest way to make a movie in those days was
to never have made one before," he says. "The studios would go with
untried talent because they didn't know what else to do. The
conventional movies they were making at the time were tanking. They
wanted to cash in on the 'youth market,' but they didn't know how."

Bogdanovich pegs the awakening in Hollywood to the success in 1966 of
Roger Corman's prototypical biker-gang pic "Wild Angels," on which
Bogdanovich worked. It was produced and distribbed through the indie
American Intl. Pictures banner for about $300,000, and went on to
gross $6 million. Equally as important, the movie and its swaggering
anti-establishment message, embodied by star Peter Fonda, "cut
through" in pop culture in a way that AIP's money-making
beach-and-bikinis romps never had, Bogdanovich says.

"Wild Angels" made Fonda a star, and it enabled him to be a
multihyphenate on 1969's landmark "Easy Rider" for Columbia Pictures.

On the smallscreen, the look and the language of the counterculture
movement was quickly co-opted for commercial purposes, which only
hastened the mainstreaming of that subculture.

For the 1967-68 television season, the top program on the air was the
durable, homespun humor of CBS' "The Andy Griffith Show." By the
1968-69 season, the top series was NBC's "Rowan and Martin's
Laugh-In" -- a clear effort by Establishment TV to get hip. The
Peacock's groundbreaking comedy "Julia," the first to feature a black
femme lead, ranked No. 7 for the season. Diahann Carroll played a
widowed nurse who regroups after her husband was killed in Vietnam.

Even CBS had its bastion of cutting-edge programming with "The
Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour." The comedy-variety skein hosted by
siblings Tom and Dick Smothers debuted in early 1967 and reflected
the times by gradually becoming more emboldened, more politically
charged and more popular -- until CBS famously pulled the plug in mid-1969.

It seems hard to believe today, but ABC was treading new ground in
the fall of '68 with "The Mod Squad." The cop show revolved around
three young hipsters who happened to be undercover cops. "A black, a
white and a blonde" was the network's shorthand description for the
skein starring Clarence Williams III, Michael Cole and Peggy Lipton.

Producer Leonard Goldberg, who was head of programming for ABC in
that era, recalls some nervousness at the network about gambling on a
concept that might turn off many viewers who by the fall of '68 were
disgusted by hippies and protest marches and the like. But ABC made a
bet on a hotshot producer named Aaron Spelling, calculating it would
be worth it in the long run if it made younger auds take a second
look at the network.

"We were also thinking about all of this talk of the generation gap,
and the gap between black and white, and we thought this might be a
way to bridge some of that," Goldberg says. "This was the era when
police were considered 'pigs.' We thought this show might be a small
step forward for the younger generation to show that police aren't all bad."

Such altruistic motives sound quaint today -- Goldberg says the
network heard from many police departments that applications from
young adults shot up after "Mod Squad's" debut -- but ABC, CBS and
NBC could exert that kind of influence in what now seems a
pre-historic era of three networks thoroughly dominating primetime.

The plethora of channel options that have flowered since the Me
decade, coupled with the media-on-steroids growth spurt of the past
decade, has changed the world in wholly new ways. The year 1968 may
have made us who we are today as voracious consumers of media, but
even the contempo parallels of an unpopular president and an
unpopular war have yet to galvanize the kind of pervasive rebellion
that the U.S. and other countries witnessed in 1968.

In this moment of download-on-demand viewing of movies and TV shows,
and friendships built via email and social networking dot-coms, youth
culture seems more about cocooning within discreet niches (aka the
Long Tail theory) than communing with a few hundred thousand other
like-minded folks at rock festivals and protest marches, or laughing
along with Johnny Carson and Archie Bunker.

"One of the great chants of ('60s) protestors was 'The whole world is
watching.' Now the whole world is playing," says Martin Kaplan, the
Norman Lear professor of entertainment, media and society at U. of
Southern California's Annenberg School.

"People are being amused and entertained and otherwise engaged. The
networks don't have the mass audience they did when people watched
the three evening newscasts and had the kind of communal experience
that we now see with such rarity," Kaplan says.

Kaplan lays some of the blame for our contemporary cultural passivity
on the tabloidization of mainstream news outlets, particularly TV
news. The focus at ABC, CBS and NBC shifted to profits rather than
public service in the mid-1980s, when their audience share began to
erode and all three nets were sold to bottom-line focused owners.

"Now when the Olympic protests or Darfur or Iraq come on the radar,
they're blips in the passing parade of Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton,
Britney Spears and all the other crimes and scandals we're
force-fed," Kaplan says. "Television (news) abdicated its
responsibility to distinguish the important from the trivial when it
became a profit center. Now the thinking is, 'How long can we hold
your attention?' as opposed to, 'Oh my God, people had better pay
attention to this.' "

.

A battle for respect

A battle for respect

http://www.stuff.co.nz/stuff/nelsonmail/4498031a19260.html

26 April 2008

When New Zealanders gather to remember the sacrifices of Kiwi
soldiers in conflict, it is a fair bet that Vietnam is a long way
down the list of our glorious contributions to past wars. But next
month, the country will be called on to start rethinking the
contribution made by its Vietnam veterans. Sally Kidson reports.
--

"They sent us there, but they didn't welcome us back," Rusty Taylor
says, his kindly eyes fixing mine.

"We didn't expect the red-carpet treatment," Pete Ramsay, says his
voice crackling down a cellphone from more than 5000km away in Perth.
"We just wanted someone to pat us on the back and say, `Good job, mate'."

Taylor and Ramsay, both from Nelson, are two of the more than 3000
New Zealand soldiers who went to Vietnam.

Both come from families with a proud history of serving in the armed
services, and both say the reception they got on returning was very
different from the welcome their brothers, fathers and grandfathers
received on returning from fighting in the world wars.

Vietnam War veterans arrived home to an indifferent country, in the
midst of the anti-war movement. Some were hassled by custom officers
when they arrived home, and others report feeling like they were
being "smuggled back" into the country, arriving home in the middle
of the night.

One senior officer was arrested, under a citizen's arrest at the
direction of Tim Shadbolt's protest organisation, and made to face
charges of offensive and obscene behaviour under the Police Offences
Act 1927 (the charges were later thrown out).

One soldier was even attacked while lying recovering from war wounds
in Waikato Hospital, his attacker a woman who accused him of being a
child rapist and a murderer.

"I don't have a grizzle with anti-war protesters at all, except when
they personally apply it to the soldiers who go to war on government
orders," Taylor says from his Nelson waterfront apartment.

He felt and still feels for the young soldiers who retired from the
army after arriving home to such indifference.

"It didn't affect me in the slightest because I was still serving in
the army... I still had the support of being in the service. I had
someone to talk to," he says.

"A lot of those guys didn't have that. They got off the plane and
were told to get out of their uniform the moment they landed."

That treatment only served to exacerbate conditions such as
post-traumatic stress disorder, which some men suffered from, he says.

Taylor points out that returning veterans were not specifically
volunteers, despite the Government calling them that at the time they
were sent to war by the New Zealand Government.

As a soldier you take an oath to serve Queen and country, he says,
and that means you go where your government sends you.

"To class us as volunteers is perhaps drawing a long bow."

Taylor served in Vietnam from May 1970 to 1971 as sergeant major of
Victor Five Company, based at Nui Dat in Phuoc Tuy province.

Phuoc Tuy was the province where most New Zealand soldiers served as
part of the Australian Task Force.

Taylor is now 77, but was 39 in Vietnam, probably among the oldest of
those there on active service.

"I was 15 to 20 years older than the great majority of them."

Pete Ramsay, 59, was also a career soldier serving 11 years in the
New Zealand Army. While he remained in the service on his return to
New Zealand, he admits the reaction the veterans received back home
was crushing at times.

If he was in Christchurch on army business from Burnham Camp, he was
not allowed to wear the service ribbons he had earned from Vietnam, he says.

"It was just bullshit and it really hurt us at the time, as young
fellows," he says via cellphone as he drives to work on a sunny Perth morning.

He recalls tensions with other, older soldiers also spilling over at the RSA.

"There were some veterans of other wars who could not accept that
those of us who had been to Vietnam had also been to war."

He acknowledges the jungle-war fought in Vietnam was different from
the wars his forefathers fought, and that some older people are fixed
in their opinions. But he says all that was needed was for people to
have an open mind and find out about what Vietnam veterans had done and faced.

"War is still war; one bullet will still kill."
--

A tepid welcome home was just the start of the problems for many
Vietnam veterans, many of whom developed health problems related to
their exposure to the powerful herbicide Agent Orange, used to kill
jungle vegetation and deny the Viet Cong hiding places.

Veterans complained of skin rashes, and cancers were diagnosed.

Families also had to deal with the exposure to Agent Orange - wives
and partners suffering miscarriages, still births and children with
disabilities. Grandchildren of veterans are also suffering from
problems that can be traced to the herbicide.

Successive New Zealand governments denied that Kiwi soldiers were
exposed to the toxin.

In 1998, an inquiry headed by former governor-general Sir Paul Reeves
devastated veterans when it found they were not sprayed by Agent
Orange, so they and their children had no health-related problems from it.

The more recent McLeod Report also incensed veterans by coming to
similar conclusions.

However, those and previous reports have been "trashed" in the wake
of evidence New Zealand soldiers were exposed to the toxin, and that
the deaths and illnesses of veterans and their children can be linked
to that exposure.

This acknowledgement has led to the building of bridges between
Vietnam veterans and the Government, and after lengthy negotiations,
a Memorandum of Understanding was signed between the two. This has
resulted in, among other things, payouts of up to $40,000 being made
to veterans, partners and their families for illnesses relating to
Agent Orange. Retrospective payouts have also been made to families
who suffered deaths.

A separate $7 million fund, controlled by a veteran trust, has also
been set up. The interest from it can be selectively spent on
veterans and families suffering hardships from illnesses other than
those officially specified.

And this week the Government launched its extensive free health
examinations for all registered veterans.

Taylor says the biggest change is that veterans no longer have the
onus of proof to link their illnesses to Agent Orange.

As part of the process of making things right, Vietnam veterans are
to finally receive the sort of recognition other vets have long been
given. At Queen's Birthday weekend the Government will officially
welcome the Vietnam troops back over a three-day event called Tribute
08. The commemoration, to be held in Wellington, aims to honour
veterans' and their families' contributions to New Zealand. It
includes an "Honour March" to Parliament and a parliamentary welcome home.

Prime Minister Helen Clark is also expected to apologise for the
disrespectful way veterans and their families were treated by the
Government, and acknowledge that for too long, successive governments
have ignored the legitimate needs and concerns of the veterans and
their families.

She is also expected to publicly acknowledge that one branch of the
Government knew veterans had been exposed to Agent Orange.

Taylor will attend the tribute, along with his wife, children and
some of his grandchildren.

"It doesn't mean a great deal for me," he says. "But I'm obviously
delighted for all the young soldiers I went over with, and for their
spouses and families of the soldiers.

"There are some horrific cases of children and grandchildren of vets
who are suffering. These are the real, and innocent, victims of the
Vietnam War."

He hopes the tribute will go some way to making amends for those who
have struggled and are struggling, but acknowledges for some it is too late.

Many vets died in their 40s and 50s and as the remaining now reach
their 60s they are still dying prematurely, he says.

Taylor estimates there are about 15-20 vets in the Nelson region.

He pulls a book of photos from a drawer and among those of his other
deployments to Malaya and the Thai border, he points out a photo of his unit.

Young men in jungle greens smile out at the camera, their faces
blackened and belts of ammunition across their bodies.

A sense of camaraderie radiates from the picture, and it becomes easy
to understand why Taylor wants to continue to fight for these men and
others like them to ensure they and their families get the
recognition and healthcare they deserve.
--

Pete Ramsay served in Victor Four company in 1968 in Phuoc Tuy, and
like Taylor, was classed a ``grunt'', or infantryman.

He says he is also excited about Tribute 08 and plans to bring 13
members of his family, including a son and daughter-in-law flying in
from Sweden, his three daughters and three grandchildren.

Ramsay, who moved to Perth in 1982, became involved in veterans'
issues and was for six years state president of the Vietnam Veterans'
Association of Australia.

He has an air-conditioning hire company

in Australia

and is the Australian distributor for a company specialising in
hard-water management.

With financial assistance from the New Zealand Government, Ramsay is
attending a Tafe (the Australian equivalent of a polytechnic) to
re-qualify as a trainer and training assessor - skills he acquired
while serving in the army.

Ramsay says part of the tribute weekend will be for his family, who
have grown up surrounded by veterans and have developed strong bonds
with other families.

``It's a real whanau thing. That's going to be very special for me to
see my kids standing on the footpath saying, `Good on you, Dad'.''

He is also looking forward to renewing the camaraderie with his army family.

``Every time we get together, we know that the next time we get
together somebody is going to be missing,'' says Ramsay.

``We love each other and we tell each other that.

``We have an emotional attachment that develops from active service
that's very hard to explain.

``When we meet each other we cry; when we leave each other we cry.

``That might sound a bit strange, but that's the way it is.''

Like Taylor, Ramsay says he signed up to do a job when he joined the
army, so for him personally, he can take or leave an apology from the
Prime Minister.

He says it's more important that the war pension system for veterans
is sorted out, and that a proper healthcare system is set up to
monitor and document the wellbeing of Vietnam soldiers and their families.

He is also adamant that New Zealand and Australian soldiers now
serving overseas in numerous countries should receive the respect and
acknowledgement they deserve from other veterans and the public when
they return.

Ramsay doesn't want them to have to go through what the Vietnam veterans did.

``These younger people need to know we support them. We never had
that support, and it's something we really struggled with.''

But there are other small signs that things are changing.

Rusty Taylor recently returned to Vietnam on a trip with other
veterans and Veteran Affairs Minister Rick Barker, sponsored by the
New Zealand Government and the Returned and Services Association.

He admits to having mixed feelings about going back.

On two of the legs to Vietnam, including the 10-hour ``red eye''
flight from Auckland to Singapore, the minister took Taylor's seat in
economy class so the veteran could take Barker's place in business class.

Taylor was touched - he calls it now a ``rare and possibly
unprecedented act of kindness''. While it was an individual gesture,
it could also be a signal of improved understanding after more than
three decades of denial.

.

1968 birthed film renaissance

[2 items]

1968 birthed film renaissance

http://www.variety.com/article/VR1117984680.html?categoryId=2520&cs=1

'2001', 'Graduate' only some of year's greats

By TODD MCCARTHY
Apr. 25, 2008

It was the best of times and the worst of times in 1968.

The worst was the year's news: the two convulsive assassinations, the
deepening quagmire in Vietnam, Chicago's Democratic National
Convention and Nixon's election, for starters. The best, at least for
anyone who went to movies, was the unprecedented sense of symbiosis
between what was going on in the world and what we were seeing onscreen.

For a film buff just coming of age and seized with the need to begin
writing about the electrifying new films that seemed to arrive by the
week , it was positive paradise.

Boomers reminiscing about how groovy and far-out it was back in the
late '60s are too tiresome for words, so I'll put it as plainly and
factually as possible: In a period of just a few days in late August
of 1968, two weeks before leaving for college and navigating between
skirmishes at the Democratic Convention, I saw in first-run release
"2001: A Space Odyssey," "Rosemary's Baby," "Petulia," "Belle de
Jour," "Targets" and "The Thomas Crown Affair." I don't think I've
had a better week of new pictures, before or since.

Much has been written about this period in movies, about the advent
of the movie brats, the last golden age of Hollywood from around
1967-1975 and how vital the film culture was at the time. It's all
true, of course, and the palpable feeling of excitement and new
possibilities swept me up along with so many others. Naturally, being
18 and avid didn't hurt.

It's easy to describe the leap my life took in 1968: At the beginning
of the year I was a film-obsessed high school senior who had never
written a word on the subject, and 10 months later I was turning out
two long film columns per week at a large university paper, as well
as meeting the great veteran King Vidor on campus one week and a kid
named George Lucas the next. Writing film reviews was never something
I had intended to do, but a direct result of the urgency and
greatness of the films we were bombarded with at the time.

"2001" started it. Having read the lukewarm Variety review and the
New York Times dismissal when Kubrick premiered the 160-minute
version in New York on April 3, I was wary but still unconvinced the
film could actually be bad when I arrived for the very first Chicago
public showing -- a reserved-seat matinee during Easter break -- at
the Cinestage one week later. To say I was blown away would be both
cliched and entirely accurate, to the extent that, for the first
time, I felt compelled to race home and put my thoughts about a film
down in writing.

How many masterpieces or, at least, severely impressive films were
born around the world that year? To go strictly by the titles
reviewed by Variety during the calendar year, in addition to the
pictures I saw that August, we can start with "Weekend," "Planet of
the Apes," the complete Russian "War and Peace," "Charlie Bubbles,"
"The Party," "Madigan," "The Edge," "Les Biches," "Capricious
Summer," "Faces," "Memories of Underdevelopment," "The Immortal
Story," "Yellow Submarine," "L'amour fou," "Mandabi," "Stolen
Kisses," "Teorema," "Monterey Pop," "Coogan's Bluff," "Flesh,"
"Beyond the Law," "Romeo and Juliet," "The Boston Strangler,"
"Bullitt," "Night of the Living Dead," "Shame," "La femme infidele,"
"If..." and "The Producers."

There were also the first modest features of Scorsese, de Palma,
Herzog and Pialat, the indelible exploitationers "Vixen,"
"Psych-Out," "The Savage Seven" and "Wild in the Streets," and
assorted specialized items at the far ends of high- and low-brow,
including "Danger: Diabolik," "Secret Ceremony," "Head," "Je t'aime,
je t'aime," "Innocence Unprotected," "Artists Under the Big Top:
Perplexed," "Death by Hanging," "The Chronicle of Anna Magdalena
Bach" and "Lonesome Cowboys."

When reviewing any year's artistic highlights, it's always essential
to remove the rose-colored glasses to be reminded of which films were
the favorites at the time. In 1968, the majority of the top 10
grossers (several of which were year-end 1967 releases) were strictly
squaresville; in descending order, they were "The Graduate," "Guess
Who's Coming to Dinner?," the reissue of "Gone With the Wind,"
"Valley of the Dolls," "The Odd Couple," "Planet of the Apes,"
"Rosemary's Baby," "The Jungle Book," "Yours, Mine and Ours" and "The
Green Berets," which now looks instructive in that it's possibly the
last popular war film made while the relevant war was still in progress.

It's also useful to recall that, while the disintegration of the old
studio system allowed some adventurous new filmmakers in the door,
the flip side was a lack of clear-headedness that promulgated such
fiascos as "Blue," "Boom," "Star!," "The Shoes of the Fisherman,"
"The Magus," "Candy" and "Skidoo," films which, in their own ways,
reflected the conflicted and confused thinking of the times just as
much as the successes did.

So what was it like on the ground for a burgeoning film buff during
this time? I remember hearing the initial firsthand report about "The
Graduate" at an NYU cafeteria around Thanksgiving of 1967, from some
guys who had just caught an advance screening and spoke as if they
had seen themselves in a movie for the first time. I had never had a
girl grab me during a movie until, a couple of days later, it
happened at the scariest moment of "Wait Until Dark," which was also
memorable for provoking the loudest in-unison scream I'd ever heard,
from 6,200 people in Radio City Music Hall. Other excellent date
movies of the season were "A Man and a Woman" (natch), "Bonnie and
Clyde: (among a multitude of other merits), "Elvira Madigan"
(swooning suicidal doom) and "Isadora" (extravagant hedonism).

Best double date: "Vixen." Worst dating movie mistake: taking a girl
to see "Camelot," as planned, rather than following her hip mother's
last-minute advice that we see Godard's "Masculin Feminin" instead.
Best all-guy outing: "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly." The furthest
I traveled to see a movie: In June, 1968, a non-driver friend heard
about a sneak preview of "Funny Girl" in Milwaukee and prevailed upon
me to drive there from Chicago to catch it. This was five months
before the film's release and the reaction was huge. I was
sufficiently impressed that I instantly wrote my one and only letter
to a studio executive, in which I informed the head of United Artists
how good "Funny Girl" was and advised him to hire William Wyler at
once to direct the film version of "Man of La Mancha," the rights to
which UA had recently acquired. I never heard back.

In New York in early April '68, my friends and I were on our way to
the theater around 7:30 p.m. when all of Times Square seemed to go
quiet and motionless. We soon saw that everyone was looking at the
news heart-stoppingly coming around the famous illuminated marquee:
Martin Luther King Jr. had been shot dead.

For some time it felt as if the entire area was under water. Then,
the question of what to do now presented itself. Nothing seemed like
the right choice, but in the end we went ahead and saw Zoe Caldwell
in "The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie." Later that night, masses of
people came down Broadway from Harlem, this just a few nights after
hundreds of hippies had whooped and hollered through Greenwich
Village reacting to LBJ's announcement that he wouldn't be running
again for president. Politics and cinema converged most famously that
year when the Cannes Film Festival was shut down in May; everyone has
stories about how they either got out or made the best of it in an
essentially closed-up town, and the conjecture persists as to whether
"Fireman's Ball" or "Petulia" would have won the Palme d'Or had the
festival run its natural course.

We couldn't have known it at the time, but that summer was the final
flush of glory for the great Chicago movie palaces in which were
rooted my most primal moviegoing experiences: the giant-screened but
intimate Michael Todd, where as a kid I had first seen "The Bridge on
the River Kwai" with my Pacific war veteran father, as well as
"Ben-Hur;" its virtual twin the Cinestage, where "Lawrence of Arabia"
first transfixed me; the McVickers, where I'd witnessed three-panel
Cinerama; the glittering Palace (later the Bismarck), home to "My
Fair Lady" and then "Doctor Zhivago" for about half the decade; the
splendid Balaban & Katz Loop flagships of the Chicago, State-Lake,
Roosevelt and United Artists, as well as the chain's neighborhood
palaces such as the Uptown, Granada and Riviera, and Evanston's
ornate Varsity and Valencia; the elaborate Oriental, as well as the
Woods and the Loop.

The Esquire, Carnegie, Cinema and Playboy were smaller, more
sophisticated venues north of the river, the Monroe changed adults'
only double-bills every week and the immortal Clark was open about 20
hours a day, had a "Gals' Gallery" mezzanine for women only, cost
less than a dollar and featured an inspired daily change policy that,
during the Democratic Convention, lured me to see both "An American
in Paris" and "Singin' in the Rain" for the first time. Then there
was the magnificent, Moorish-Spanish-style Teatro del Lago in
No-Man's-Land, an odd bit of real estate between Wilmette and Lake
Michigan where Charlton Heston spent his teenage years and where I
first saw "El Cid."

They're all gone now, at least as film theaters. Four of them
downtown continue as legit houses and one as a concert venue, but
even an archeologist couldn't detect evidence of the others anymore.
It's the same in almost every other city -- although a bit less so in
Los Angeles -- one important element removed of what it was like to
experience movies four decades back.

The day I arrived at Stanford in September '68, I was showing myself
around campus when I happened by the Stanford Daily office. On a whim
I went in and asked if the paper needed a film critic. Told that the
previous one had graduated in June, I volunteered for the job. As it
happened, "Belle de Jour" had just opened locally, so I went back to
see it again, wrote it up, did a rewrite and got published. Within a
month I was skipping far too many classes attending the San Francisco
Film Festival and taking dates to Godard movies.

In such manner was at least one career born.

--------

1968: The year of Kubrick's '2001: A Space Odyssey'

http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/la-etw-spaceodyssey26apr26,0,101574.story

'2001' lost the Oscar for best picture to 'Oliver!' that year, but it
wasn't the only acclaimed film to be bumped.

By Susan King, Los Angeles Times Staff Writer
April 26, 2008

The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences held a 40th
anniversary party Friday night to honor Stanley Kubrick's seminal
sci-fi epic "2001: A Space Odyssey." Tom Hanks, whose career and
interests were shaped by the film, hosted the evening. Star Keir
Dullea and special-effects whiz Douglas Trumbull were also on hand
after the screening to talk about the film.

Although it's considered a true masterwork, "2001: A Space Odyssey"
wasn't nominated for a best film Oscar. The Academy Award for best
film that year went to the lumpy musical "Oliver!" That's all the
more surprising when you consider the bumper crop of outstanding
films from which to choose. To mark the anniversary, we take a look
at "2001" as well as other films that arrived in theaters in 1968:

"2001: A Space Odyssey"

Audiences had never seen anything quite like "2001." And even 40
years later, its then cutting-edge, Oscar-winning special effects,
sparse script, Geoffrey Unsworth's brilliant 70-millimeter
cinematography and that six-track stereo sound still pack a wallop.
Kubrick deals with the themes of evolution, technology and artificial
intelligence in the complex, cerebral drama. Because there is so
little dialogue, the film's music plays a crucial role in the film.
Originally, Kubrick had hired Alex North, who penned the music to
"Spartacus," to write the score. But Kubrick ended up going with
classical tunes, including Richard Strauss' "Also sprach
Zarathustra." Surreal and enigmatic, the film is considered by many
to be one of the most influential and best films ever made. Dullea
and Gary Lockwood star.

"The Odd Couple"

Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau teamed up for the first time in Billy
Wilder's cynical 1966 comedy, "The Fortune Cookie," with Matthau
walking away with the supporting actor Oscar for his role as Lemmon's
low-rent attorney brother-in-law. But they really hit pay dirt with
this rollicking adaptation of Neil Simon's hit Broadway play about
two friends -- the neatnik Felix Unger (Lemmon) and slovenly Oscar
Madison (Matthau) -- who become roommates as a consequence of
divorce. Screenwriter Simon and director Gene Saks don't reinvent the
comedy wheel with "The Odd Couple," but watching Lemmon and Matthau
(who appeared in the Broadway version) interact is like taking a
master class in comedic timing. Lemmon and Matthau became the best of
friends off screen and starred in 11 films together. Unfortunately,
their last film together was the dreadful 1998 "The Odd Couple II."
Matthau died on July 1, 2000; Lemmon died June 27, 2001.

"Rosemary's Baby"

Though it was condemned by the Catholic Church, audiences flocked to
see Roman Polanski's terrifying -- and influential -- adaptation of
Ira Levin's bestseller about a young woman (Mia Farrow) who discovers
that the baby she's carrying is quite literally a little devil.
Farrow, who had appeared on TV in "Petyon Place" and a few movies,
really came into her own with her performance as Rosemary Woodhouse,
a young woman who moves into a funky apartment in New York -- it's
actually the Dakota Building -- with her struggling-actor husband
(John Cassavetes). Unbeknown to her, her eccentric elderly neighbors,
including Minnie (Ruth Gordon in her Oscar-winning turn) and Roman
Castevet (Sidney Blackmer), are actually witches and warlocks who
have devised a plan to have Rosemary bring the antichrist into the world.

Horrormeister William Castle, who directed such grade B horror films
as "House on Haunted Hill," had bought the rights to "Rosemary" while
it was still in galley form. He hoped that "Rosemary" would be his
first adult horror film. He brought in Paramount to be his partner on
the project, but the studio was hot on the young Polish director
Polanski. So Castle ended up being the producer.

The film was also considered a curse. Farrow was served with divorce
papers from her first husband, Frank Sinatra, during production.
Castle suffered from gallstones after filming ended and had to have
surgery. The film's composer, Krzysztof Komeda, died shortly
afterward from an accidental fall. And then Polanski's wife, Sharon
Tate, and their unborn son were murdered by Charles Manson and his
follower at their Benedict Canyon home.

"Petulia"

Richard Lester was best known for his directing of the Beatles
musical comedy classics: 1964's "A Hard Day's Night" and 1965's
"Help!" And he finally got to show his range as a filmmaker with this
lovely romantic drama set in San Francisco at the height of the
Haight-Ashbury era -- even Big Brother and the Holding Company with
lead singer Janis Joplin is featured in one scene. George C. Scott
gives one of his more delicate performances as Archie, a physician
who is in the throes of a divorce. At a charity event, he meets the
quirky, beautiful socialite Petulia (Julie Christie), who is married
to a handsome, abusive young man (Richard Chamberlain). Archie and
Petulia -- two totally mismatched people -- find a fleeting love and happiness.

"Funny Girl"

Barbra Streisand was an award-winning, bestselling recording artist;
her TV specials had captured Emmys and the hearts of critics and
audiences; and she was a superstar thanks to her turn as Fanny Brice
in Broadway's "Funny Girl." Then she got to make her mark in films in
this lavish, old-fashioned adaptation for which she won the Academy
Award for best actress (she tied with Katharine Hepburn, in "The Lion
in Winter," for the honor). William Wyler directed the musical drama,
which chronicled Brice's early years, her marriage to gambler Nick
Arnstein (Omar Sharif) and her years as one of the stars of the
Ziegfeld Follies. Herbert Ross, who went on to direct films,
including the ill-conceived 1975 sequel, "Funny Lady," staged the
musical numbers. Streisand, who was married to Elliott Gould at the
time, had an affair with Sharif during the production, and their
scenes together just sizzle.

"The Lion in Winter"

Anthony Harvey became the first director to win the Directors Guild
of America's top award who didn't go on to win the Oscar for best
director. The academy bestowed the Oscar to Carol Reed for
"Olivier!," which in retrospect was one of his weakest films.

Harvey, though, did a spectacular job with this tart, sophisticated
historical drama penned by James Goldman, starring Peter O'Toole as
the aging Henry II (a role he first played in 1964's "Becket") who
reunites with his estranged wife, Eleanor of Aquitaine (Hepburn), on
Christmas to pick an heir to the throne. And what a group of ninnies
they have for sons -- Richard the Lion-Hearted (Anthony Hopkins in
his first film), Prince Geoffrey (John Castle) and Prince John (Nigel
Terry). The film is remarkably free of the pomp and circumstance
typically seen in such period pieces. The castles are dirty and dank.
The royals eat like pigs and are far less clean than boars.

"Faces"

The year of 1968 was a big one for John Cassavetes. Not only did he
play Farrow's husband in "Rosemary's Baby," he scored a critical hit
with this searing indie film. Though Cassavetes had directed a few
films before "Faces," this intimate drama put him on the
international map as a filmmaker and created his reputation as a
founding father of the independent film movement. The film explores
the dissolution of a 14-year marriage of an aging, childless couple:
Maria (Lynn Carlin, in her Oscar-nominated turn) and Richard (John
Marley). Cassavetes' wife, Gena Rowlands, plays a high-class
prostitute, and Seymour Cassel received an Oscar nomination for his
performance as the laid-back Chet whom Maria meets at a disco.
Cassavetes, who was nominated for an Oscar for his screenplay, shot
the film at his own home and at his mother-in-law's. Though the film
has influenced many directors, including Martin Scorsese and Sean
Penn, not all critics raved about it. Pauline Kael said: "There are
scenes in 'Faces' so dumb, so crudely conceived and so badly
performed that the audience practically burns incense."

"Rachel, Rachel"

Cassavetes wasn't the only actor turned director who made a project
with his wife in 1968. Paul Newman made his auspicious directorial
debut with this poignant drama starring wife Joanne Woodward as
Rachel Cameron, a 35-year-old virginal schoolteacher in a small town
who thinks she has found love with a former high school friend (James
Olson). After he puts an end to their brief affair, Rachel discovers
that she may be pregnant. Though Newman failed to receive an Oscar
nomination for his acclaimed direction, "Rachel, Rachel" was
nominated for best film, lead actress and supporting actress for
Estelle Parsons who plays Rachel's close friend.

"The Party"

Writer-director Blake Edwards and Peter Sellers made beautiful belly
laughs together when they first teamed for 1963's slapstick delight
"The Pink Panther," in which Sellers plays the inept, accident-prone
Parisian Detective Inspector Jacques Clouseau. Edwards and Sellers
went on to make several "Panther" movies together, including the 1964
masterpiece "A Shot in the Dark." But in 1968, the two collaborated
on their only non-Clouseau film, a rib-tickling farce that recalls
the old silent movie comedies. Sellers plays Hrundi B. Bakshi, a
clumsy Indian actor who turns a swank Hollywood party into a disaster
of epic comedy proportions. Though some critics thought his Bakshi
bordered on caricature, the majority of movie reviewers embraced this
exercise in sight gag and silly jokes.

"Romeo and Juliet"

Leave it to Italian director Franco Zeffirelli to turn Shakespeare
into a hot commodity. Until his lush, erotic version of the Bard's
tragedy, the best-known adaptation of "R&J" was the 1936 version
starring thirtysomething Norma Shearer and fortysomething Leslie
Howard as the ill-fated teen lovers. But in this version, Zeffirelli
cast honest-to-god teenagers -- Olivia Hussey and Leonard Whiting --
in the title roles. Though not the greatest thespians, they were
breathtakingly beautiful and even, egads!, naked in one scene.
Needless to say, tweens and teens flocked to the film. The Nino Rota
score became an overnight sensation and was the fourth-bestselling
album of the year. And Henry Mancini also scored with his single
version of the theme song. The film was nominated for several Oscars,
including best film and director. At a recent 40th anniversary
screening in San Francisco, the audience went wild. And Hussey, who
was in attendance, told the crowd that she gets e-mails from
12-year-olds who love the film. "Even today, the film still appeals,"
she said. "To see the way young people react to it is inspiring."

"Bullitt"

The granddaddy of all contemporary detective films is just as fresh
and enjoyable as when it was first released. Steve McQueen, who was
the king of cool, is at his iconic best as Frank Bullitt, a savvy San
Francisco police detective who drives a groovy Mustang. Bullitt finds
more than he bargained for when the witness he's assigned to protect
is killed by mobsters. Among the film's iconic moments are the
roller-coaster exciting car chase sequence on hilly streets in San
Francisco and Bullitt chasing down a bad guy on a runway at SFO.
Directed by Peter Yates, "Bullitt" was the first film to use the
lightweight Arriflex cameras.

"The Producers"

Though director Mel Brooks won an Oscar and Writers Guild of America
Award for his riotous screenplay and Gene Wilder earned an Oscar
nomination for supporting actor, this seminal comedy wasn't a hit
when it was released. In fact, Embassy, the company releasing the
film, thought it was in bad taste and didn't want it in theaters.
Peter Sellers, though, saw it privately and put an ad in Variety to
support the film. Embassy caved in and released it sparely.
Politically incorrect and laugh-out-loud funny, the film centers on
two New York theatrical "producers" -- Max Bialystock (Zero Mostel)
and his timid account, Leo Bloom (Wilder), who attempt to get rich by
having investors put money into a Broadway show, "Springtime for
Hitler," that is guaranteed to flop. Their investors? Old widows who
are romanced by Bialystock. The big problem is that the show becomes
an overnight sensation -- but there's no way to repay everyone. More
than 30 years later, Brooks turned "The Producers" into the Broadway
musical that ended up breaking the record for the most Tony Awards.
The play's stars Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick reprised their
roles in the disappointing 2005 film version.

"Planet of the Apes"

Remarkably fun, entertaining sci-fi adventure based on the Pierre
Boulle novel about three astronauts who crash land on a planet where
apes rule and humans are treated like animals. Charlton Heston gives
one of his best performances -- and did his first nude scene -- as
Taylor, the fiesty astronaut who famously tells his captors, "Take
your stinking paws off of me, you damn dirty apes." John Chambers
created the state-of-the-art makeup for the actors who played the
apes, including Roddy McDowall, Kim Hunter and Maurice Evans. Jerry
Goldsmith penned the evocative score, and Franklin Schaffner provided
the near flawless direction. And, of course, the final scene is one
of the most memorable put on screen. "Apes" spawned four sequels, a
live-action TV series, an animated series and the dreadful 2001
remake by Tim Burton.

"Wild in the Streets"

James Dean look-alike Christopher Jones creates quite a splash in
this American International Pictures' cult flick based on a short
story by Robert Thom, who also wrote the screenplay. Barry Shear
directed this tale of a singer and revolutionary, Max Frost (Jones),
who lives with his band and their groupies in a big mansion in Los
Angeles. Frost causes quite a commotion when he's asked to perform at
a televised political rally by a Senate candidate (Hal Holbrook), who
is trying to get the voting age knocked down to 18. But at the rally,
Frost declares that the voting age should be lowered to 14! Soon
protests by youths break out all over the country. Holbrook's
candidate and Frost meet and agree the voting age should be 15.
Holbrook wins by a landslide. Through a series of clever plot
devices, Frost becomes president of the United States, reduces the
retirement age to 30 and forces anyone 35 and older to be rounded up
and sent to "re-education" camps, where they are given LSD. Shelley
Winters, Richard Pryor and Diane Varsi star; Barry Williams, who went
on to appear as Greg in "The Brady Bunch," plays the young Max Frost.

susan.king@latimes.com

.

[Sly] Stone hits comeback trail

Stone hits comeback trail

http://www.journalgazette.net/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080427/ENT02/804270483

April 27, 2008
By Geoff Boucher
Los Angeles Times

LOS ANGELES – Sly Stone, the Howard Hughes of the Woodstock scene,
rolled up on a three-wheel custom chopper painted the color of lemons.

His straggly hair was tucked beneath a baseball cap, and draped on
his shoulders was a shirt emblazoned with images of gambler's dice
and the $100 face of Ben Franklin.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he said as he pulled off his gloves.

Late? Stone was technically tardy by all of 13 minutes, but the
apology had the ring of a larger truth.

Sly and the Family Stone became famous for making some of the most
euphoric, genre-busting music of the late 1960s and early '70s –
"Family Affair," "Stand," "Dance to the Music" and "I Want to Take You Higher."

But he was also notorious as the slipperiest of stars: Missed
concerts, drug escapades, arrests, promoter feuds and infighting in
the band. The music of the Family Stone was transcendent in the
1960s, but, by the middle of the following decade, the dream was
over, and Stone was on his own and living on vapors.

There were comeback attempts and albums with pleading titles ("Heard
Ya Missed Me, Well I'm Back" in 1976 and three years later "Back on
the Right Track"), but the arc of his story was turning grim, and he
became more and more reclusive.

Now, he says, he wants to rejoin the world.

"I am ready to show people what I can do," Stone said, smiling that
familiar toothy grin, although the 1960s towering afro is gone along
with his funky saunter.

His posture and movement show the damage of living hard. Stone's chin
never leaves his collarbone when he talks, and there's a tremor and
hitch to his collarbones. "I'm like this because I fell off a cliff,"
he said, referring to a spill he took "walking in my yard" in Beverly Hills.

There's a sense that Stone, 65, went over the edge plenty of times.

Stone, who rarely gives interviews, had a reason for this one: He
wants to mount a world tour with some of the original Family Stone
members – trumpet player Cynthia Robinson, saxophonist Jerry Martini
and Sister Rose Stone.

Right now he's got four dates booked, the first of them was April 18
at the House of Blues on the Sunset Strip, followed the next night at
the chain's Anaheim site.

More than that, he wants to return to the music industry, get in the
studio with stars he has influenced and hook a young audience.

Stone always has been one quirky cat, but he seemed neither scattered
nor feeble this day. His only real regret is letting down fans in the past.

"I got in fights with promoters, and I had a real attitude then –
well, I kind of still do, but not the same – so I walked away. But I
forgot the people in the audience, the people who loved the music.
The music meant a lot to people, and it comes with a responsibility."

Stone's longtime manager, Jerry Goldstein, is still with him, but
this year, the singer brought in Charles Richardson, an old friend,
to be his personal manager, and that led directly to the new club
shows, which include May dates in Minneapolis and Chicago.

Stone has also been active in the studio, including sessions with
funk giant George Clinton and has, according to Richardson, "20
years' worth of amazing material that he can work on." Much of that
work has been influenced by the hip-hop era.

Promoters have made it clear that Stone is a commodity if he can
prove with the club shows that he and his band can bottle the old
magic. Sales to the shows have been sluggish.

"If Sly shows he can go the distance, we're told that the world is
his oyster," Richardson said. Sylvester Stewart was born in Denton,
Texas, where the town motto is "north of ordinary." But he grew up in
Vallejo in the Bay area, which in the 1960s could have been called
"east of weird."

His music career was a family affair from the get-go. He was the
second of five children, and he and Freddie, Rose and Vaetta were a
gospel group called the Stewart Four and cut a single in 1952.

"When I was 4, I had a job singing with Sam Cooke on a church show in
Oakland Auditorium," Stone said. "I remember people ran down the
aisles, and I didn't know about the consequences or applause or
celebration. I didn't know what music did to people. So I started
running. It scared me. That was the first chance I got to see the
response you could get from an audience by performing. Since then, I
got that same feeling in a way, sometimes. You know: Run."

In the '60s, Stone studied trumpet, composition and music theory at a
junior college and immersed himself in the music scene of the Bay
Area as a disc jockey at soul station KSOL in Oakland and as a
producer in San Francisco. He worked with Grace Slick's first band,
the Great Society, as well as with Bobby Freeman and the Beau Brummels.

All of this began to shape a music sensibility that was part soul and
part psychedelic, a hybrid that would channel the Apollo Theater and
Haight-Ashbury and, eventually, create an essential template for 1970s funk.

It's impossible to imagine Prince or Rick James without Stone's
influence, and his music would echo clearly in the records of Earth,
Wind and Fire, Parliament/Funkadelic, the Ohio Players, Shuggie Otis
and Terence Trent D'Arby, to name a few.

More than the music, the image of the Family Stone on stage was
powerful. The ensemble was a mix of gender and race, an ideal
collective for an audience eager to live the Age of Aquarius and hear
message music that, as a bonus, had a great beat.

The golden moment for the band was at the Woodstock Festival in 1969.
Sly performed a delirious call-and-response version of "Higher" and
listened to the crowd of 400,000 sing his words back to him. Many say
that set changed the course of music, melding rock with R&B in a
liberating way.

"Everybody I saw was full of peace; it was a spirit there that was
just peaceful and cool," Stone said. Times got darker after
Woodstock. Stone moved to Los Angeles in 1970 and fell in with a
thuggish crowd. Joel Selvin, author of the 1998 book "Sly and the
Family Stone: An Oral History," said the move away from the Bay area
was the "worst thing that could have happened to Sly, it was the
beginning of the end."

The 1971 album "There's a Riot Goin' On" showed the influence of
Black Panther militancy on Stone, and the imagery of some lyrics
showed how fast the rainbow ideal had changed.

The late 1970s and '80s found Stone tumbling through a career
trapdoor and cushioning the fall with drugs.

Like that wide-eyed youngster back at the Oakland church show, Stone
decided to run. As the years went on, people in his close circle
advised him to be the hermit and bide his time for the big comeback.
Eventually, though, he realized that that comeback had to be in his
head, not on stage.

"If there is anyone I have influenced who wants me to help them
record, I'm willing to do it. I want to go in the studio yesterday
and get started. The reason I say that I want to hear from people is
that I was influenced to stay underground for so long. I had advice
that there was some kind of rewarding effect to it. Now I want to be
over ground. I want to be above ground. I don't want to be in the ground."

The notion of a Stone comeback is intriguing. There's a precedent:
Brian Wilson has shown that a revered 1960s pop auteur who blew some
fuses can overcome the electrical damage and reconnect with a loving
and forgiving audience. It's not clear whether Stone can pull it off.

"If he can get it together and take the music out on the road, if he
can capture what he had before, there's one or two generations that
haven't seen him or that band play those songs," said Ken Ehrlich,
the executive producer of the Grammys. "That music – no one had heard
anything like it quite before. I know I want to see him play if he
can do it again."

Ehrlich gave Stone a chance a few years ago with mixed results. Stone
made his first major public performance in two decades in February
2006 at the Grammys at Staples Center. Contemporary stars performed
chunks of Family Stone hits in a medley and then Sly, grinning and
looking a bit shaky, emerged for a few seconds, jabbed the keyboard,
and sang a few rough lines.

Stone was not pleased with the night.

"It wasn't what I thought it would be, and it's not what I wanted it
to be," he said, "but that's OK."

.

‘Girls Like Us’ author talks about Joni, Carly and Carole

'Girls Like Us' author talks about Joni, Carly and Carole

http://www.seacoastonline.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080423/ENTERTAIN/80422026&sfad=1

By Nancy Cicco
ncicco@seacoastonline.com
April 23, 2008

"Girls Like Us" author Sheila Weller, in an e-mail exchange earlier
this month, talked about the process behind writing her book. For
more about the book and Weller, and to post your own reactions to
"Girls Like Us," visit www.girlslikeusthebook.com.
--

Q. Why did you want to write this book? Why a biography of three
musicians instead of just one?

A. I started by envisioning a history of the women of my generation,
and that always meant several women ­ it was never my aim to write a
biography of one woman singer-songwriter. I wanted to write a
nonfiction version of a book like "The Group," "Loose Change," or
"Superior Women," where a story of a whole generation of middle-class
women was told by intertwined, ongoing stories.

Q. How did you decide to focus on Carole King, Joni Mitchell and
Carly Simon, as opposed to other female musicians of the time? (Say,
Laura Nyro, Bonnie Raitt, Joan Baez or anyone else?) Were there
others you considered writing about that for whatever reason didn't
make the cut?

A. Laura Nyro is invoked throughout the book ­ I personally adored
her and greatly identified with her. But she was never going to be
one of the three ­ first of all, there was a biography of her
(Michelle Kort's), but, mainly, her life did not resonate socially
and culturally over the decades as one that we kept hearing about, a
woman who we could chart our lives against. Bonnie Raitt, not
important enough. Joan Baez, too old ­ a major older sister, as it
were. I considered Linda Ronstadt ... But Linda didn't write her own
songs. Almost immediately, these three were THE women.

Q. Did you realize when you started that Joni, Carole and Carly's
lives intersected as much or complemented each other's as much as they do?

A. Yes, I kind of did. I remember that Joni had a significant romance
with James Taylor back in 1970, and that James and Carole were close
musical friends. I didn't know the details, or the other people who
were so significant in their intermeshing, but I assumed that they
would exist. A motto I have: "Life is high school." Especially with
music being the collaborative medium that it is ­ and music being
inherently sensual (as were the times), I expected the connections,
romantic and otherwise, that I found.

Q. If you were to write a triple biography of three female musicians
from today's music scene in the same type of treatment, who would you
choose and why?

A. That's a good question, and I leave it to a younger woman to
answer it. And without being too generationally solipsistic, I don't
really know if female musical figures ­ even icons ­today would have
lives that reflected as much social change for women, over so short a
time, as these women's lives reflected. I can tell you young female
musical artists I admire ­ Alicia Keys and Nora Jones ­ and whose
music I currently cannot stop listening to ­ the fabulous but
troubled Amy Winehouse. But I'm not sure they are linked in the same,
organic way that my three women are.

Q. Do you think there are any female musicians of comparable status
and influence today?
A. See above. But, again, comparable? I don't think so.

Q. How many interviews did you conduct for the book?

A. I interviewed about 130-150 people, more than half of them more
than once ­ about a quarter of them multiple times...some of them, so
often they said, "Write the book already!"

Q. When did you start researching?

A. When I started the proposal, in early 2002. And then, in earnest,
when I got the contract, in spring 2003.

Q. Were there one of two tidbits of info you learned about Carole,
Joni or Carly that surprised you?

A. I certainly found Carole's hidden life in Idaho to be an
eye-opener. I had assumed at the very least that her second Idaho
husband (and fourth husband) Rick Sorensen was a rancher, not a survivalist.
I loved discovering Joni's years in Canada before Toronto ­ no one
had gone to the people at the Louis Riel (the coffee house in
Saskatoon where she started singing) or in her art college before. I
loved being the first person to detail Carly's long second marriage ­
we'd always simply heard that Jim Hart was "a poet she met on a train."
It sounded romantic ­ and it was even more romantic, and touching, in
its full truth.
Was I surprised? Yes, by supposedly Brooklyn-sensible Carole's
adventurousness, by supposedly sensitive Joni's tough-dame quality
and her many idiosyncracies (driving across the country in a red wig
and false name), and by supposedly polished and privileged Carly's
achey-breaky heart.

Q. Who was the toughest interview source to land?

A. Good question. I'm now drawing a blank! The book was a chorus of
many, many voices ­ so many that when it was hard to get someone to
talk, as much as I wanted him or her, I didn't necessarily need him
or her because I could fill in that point in time with another
source. The advantage of working four years on a book is people who
say no to you in 2003 may say yes to you in 2005 and, without wanting
to give names, that happened.

Q. Have you heard from Carole, Joni or Carly about their respective
reactions to the book?

A. Carly loves the book, which is very gratifying. Joni, I have not
heard from, and she has in the past been critical of pieces written
about her, but I was very gratified that the venerable English music
magazine Mojo said I captured her complexity (I DIDN'T, to use one of
her lines, "mirror [her] back simplified") as well as anyone would
"likely" be able to do. Carole went on Jimmy Kimmel and said she now
wants to write her own autobiography ­ she has been working on it ­
to have an alternative to people talking about her (even though, I
assure you, those people were those who knew her very well).

Q. How are you enjoying the reaction so far from readers?

A. People have said they LOVE the book...so I love the reaction.
Of course, some pure music types will wonder why I spent so much time
on their romances and personal lives, but I think that for artists
who write from their emotions ­ who pioneered confessional
songwriting ­ that emphasis is justified.

Q. Please tell me a little about your background ­ you're obviously
from the baby-boom generation ­ When did you start writing ­ were you
a "researcher" rather than a reporter when you started? ;-)
(Note: In the book, Weller describes how female reporters of the era
were given the job title "researcher" simply by virtue of their
gender. Male reporters were known as "reporters." ­ NC)

A. Started as a writer, decades ago. Always was a writer ­ a hard
life, but a rewarding one. My bio on my book's Web site ­

www.girlslikeusthebook.com ­ says a lot. For fun, Google Sheila
Weller Jimi Hendrix and you'll find one of my first pieces, a
now-legendary rare interview with Jimi Hendrix, close after
Woodstock, for Rolling Stone.

Q. How did your view of each of these women change as you wrote the book?

A. That's mostly answered in the earlier question about surprises. I
did get to know Carly.

Q. Do you have any next projects in the works that you can talk about?

A. I'm always writing for magazines ­ Glamour, mostly, and Vanity
Fair. But as for a next book: Truthfully, I loved writing this one so
much, and it was one of those ideas that, while I arrived at it
naturally, ended up seeming to have been inspired ... that I don't
know what's next! This will be hard to top!

.

Good ice cream, yeah yeah yeah!

Good ice cream, yeah yeah yeah!

http://www.dailypress.com/features/dp-taste_drivethru_0423apr23,0,4440585.story

April 23, 2008

This week I reached out for a pint of John Lennon Imagine Whirled
Peace ice cream, new from the flower-power flavor makers at Ben & Jerry's.

On the label, it says: "When Ben & Jerry's wanted to talk about
peace, we couldn't think of a better person to exemplify the message
than John Lennon. Through his art and lyrics he imagined a world
without war and asked us all to 'Give Peace a Chance.' We hope this
whirly mixture of toffee cookies and fudge peace signs enlightens
your bellies and souls and makes you ask what you can do to promote
peace in your lives."

Imagine Whirled Peace, inspired by the former Beatle's Top 10 solo
hit "Imagine," not only delivers a message of peace and love, it's
packed with tasty fudge bits and cookie crumbles. It's got a good
beat, you can dance to it and it's delicious. I give it a 95. It's
the coolest ice cream in the freezer.

Here's the blueprint: caramel and sweet-cream ice creams blended with
fudge peace signs and toffee cookie pieces.

Total calories: 270 (per scoop). Fat grams: 16. Dietary fiber: 0
grams. Carbs: 28 grams. Manufacturer's suggested retail price: $4 for a pint.

Four bucks is convenience-store pricing, however. It's usually a
little cheaper in supermarkets, and a whole lot cheaper if you wait
for Ben & Jerry's to go on sale. John Lennon Imagine Whirled Peace is
one of those ideas that makes you wonder what took 'em so long.
Lennon's anti-war efforts fit hand in hand with Ben & Jerry's
corporate philosophy of peace, love and butter pecan.

This ice cream is not for everybody. Once again, Ben & Jerry's is
jamming its politics ­ and toffee cookies ­ down the public's throat.

Some conservative hard-liners might have trouble swallowing the
symbolism of chocolate peace signs.

Me? I'm the biggest Beatles ­ and Lennon in particular ­ fan in the
world, so bring on Imagine Whirled Peace ice cream. Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
Remember how you used to read the album cover while you listened to a
record the first time?

With this ice cream, you'll read the pint container while enjoying dessert.

John Lennon Imagine Whirled Peace has the official seal of approval
from Yoko Ono and the John Lennon Estate. Each pint bears a cartoon
self-portrait of John and a facsimile of his autograph. Beatles fans
will eat this stuff up. They'll like the ice cream, too.

Republicans and Democrats alike, if they put their politics aside,
will dig this flavor. It's Ben & Jerry's ­ really good ice cream.
It's heavy, like John's first solo album, "Plastic Ono Band." The
flavors are big and loud, like the Beatles on "The Ed Sullivan Show."
Caramel and sweet-cream ice creams harmonize perfectly, while the
chocolate and toffee-crunch mix-ins make this flavor a pick hit to click.

This is not the first time Ben & Jerry's has honored a rock star or
song with a frozen dessert. Cherry Garcia, named for Grateful Dead
leader Jerry Garcia, is one of Ben & Jerry's all-time biggest
smashes. Then there's Phish Food, Dave Matthews Band Magic Brownies,
Wavy Gravy, Willie Nelson's Country Peach Cobbler and Bohemian
Raspberry (honoring Queen).

And it's not the first time that Yoko has OK'd products bearing John
Lennon's name and likeness.

There are Converse John Lennon sneakers, and ties and T-shirts, and
even bed linens for baby.

It's a shame that Ben & Jerry's hasn't immortalized Lennon's writing
partner Paul McCartney with an ice-cream flavor, too. That should
have been done, like, "Yesterday."

Mixing politics and business usually is risky business. No matter
what position a company takes, it's going to alienate roughly half of
its potential customers. But Ben & Jerry's is known for sticking its neck out.

Besides, if you don't like spooning with the peace sign, Ben &
Jerry's has three more new flavors: ONE Cheesecake Brownie, Cake
Batter and Strawberry Banana Frozen Yogurt. None of them has an (R)
or a (D) next to it.

.

Green Apple Fest | 04.20 | USA

Green Apple Fest | 04.20 | USA

http://www.jambase.com/Articles/Story.aspx?storyID=13730

by: Nick Boeka

Green Apple Music Festival :: 04.20.08 ::
Speedway Meadows/Golden Gate Park :: San Francisco, CA

Marking its third year, the Green Apple Music Festival once again
took over and hosted this year's largest Earth Day event in the
world, now throughout eight participating cities in the United
States. Peter Shapiro, Green Apple founder and organizer, reported
approximately 200,000 people attended the completely free events over
the weekend, which highlighted not just musical acts but also
painters, sculptures, writers and a wide range of vendors showcasing
eco-friendly and forward thinking products. In San Francisco, Golden
Gate Park is a perfect venue for an event of this magnitude, and in
the second year in a row this SF spot drew the largest crowds of any
of the Sunday events. By days end, the tally hit over 25,000 people.

What this means is that as you enter the enormous park your
experience begins long before you even make it to the concert
grounds. There are many people around you, all walking briskly
following the faint sounds of music playing in the distance,
converging on Speedway Meadows. The meadow is actually a large flat
field nestled in a small valley in the center of the park. There is
always a large stage setup, and even though the music doesn't start
until noon, by 8 a.m. there are already hoards of people squatting
spaces and setting up shop. The weather was beautiful on this weekend
tribute to Mother Earth - a little windy but full of blue skies and
warming sun.

Brett Dennen opened up the afternoon with a strong set. His sound is
a bit mainstream and poppy but his great songwriting and a
charismatic style are appealing. Once he started playing it
immediately attracted people wandering into the area. Following
Dennen's set, Mill Valley's Dan Hicks and the Hot Licks took the
stage with special guest Michael Kang of The String Cheese Incident.
Hicks' classic folk-lounge band style featured two female back-up
singers and a full string band. Hicks has an incredible sense of
humor and the rapport he has with his bandmates allows him be funny,
crude and somewhat rude in an acceptable manner. Midway through his
set, he introduced Kang, who emerged with his electric mandolin and
jumped right into trading licks and strumming along. Despite having a
violin next to him the whole show, Kang never went to the fiddle and
instead produced some pretty standard but still impressive solos.

During the intermission, one of the hosts of the event, Radio Active,
emerged and provided a beat box and pan flute mini-set. A small green
puppet emerged on stage to announce it was running for President.
Once the break was over, Yonder Mountain String Band came out for a
perfectly placed, fast paced set. As the sun hit the top of the
stage, Jeff Austin led them into the opening notes of "Casualty" and
they were off and running.

This was the ideal atmosphere for Yonder - outside in the sun with no
shoes on. It didn't take long for bassist Ben Kaufmann to take over
the lead vocals and by the middle of the set the crowd had nearly
doubled in size. There was a "Traffic Jam" segue that led to fan
favorite "Follow Me Down to the Riverside," which eventually ended up
in a reggae jam tease before settling into "2 Hits and the Joint
Turned Brown", which arrived just as the clock passed by 4:10 p.m. At
the close of their set, master of mischief Wavy Gravy came out to
kill time while they set up for the next group. I feel bad for him
because so many of the young attendees, sadly, did not know who he
was and were heckling him.

At this point I noticed someone backstage standing next to Mickey
Hart whose name was not on the bill. In an unannounced appearance,
Bob Weir joined Hart and his Mass Drum, taking the stage with his
former bandmate for a set opening "Blackbird." Hart is so bad ass
that he didn't need a whole kit, just two drums and he was ready to
rock. After fine- tuning their instruments, the pair were joined by
Kaufmann and Kang for Dead staples "Friend of the Devil" and
"Peggy-O." In another surprise, towards the end of this opening
collection of songs, Joan Baez emerged. Afterwards, the friends left
the stage and Hart was joined by a collection of drummer that led the
crowd through a half hour of tribal drum music. Included in the
morphing ensemble onstage was Jon Fishman, Tommy Lee (yes, Tommy Lee
of Motley Crue), Bobi Cespedes and the Rhythm Village. The
performance ended with a truly extraordinary version of "Not Fade
Away" featuring Weir, Hart, Kang, Baez and Lee.

Later in the evening, the official post show party at 1015 Folsom
paved the way for an electronic super group calling themselves
Symbiotic Orchestra consisting of Kang, Steve Molitz, Aaron Holstein,
KJ Sawka, Jamie Janover and Audio Angel. There was just too much good
music to be seen by just one person, and that's the way a true
festival should be. Kudos Green Apple!

.

Why Hillary Clinton makes my wife scream [Tom Hayden]

Why Hillary Clinton makes my wife scream

http://www.thenation.com/doc/20080505/hayden

by Tom Hayden
[5/5/2008 issue]

My wife Barbara has begun yelling at the television set every time
she hears Hillary Clinton. This is abnormal behavior, since Barbara
is a meditative practitioner of everything peaceful and organic, and
is inspired by Barack Obama's transformational appeal.

For Barbara, Hillary has become the screech on the blackboard. From
First Lady to Lady Macbeth.

It's getting to me as well. Last year, I was somewhat reconciled to
the prospect of supporting and pressuring Hillary as the nominee
amidst the rising tide of my friends who already hated her,
irrationally I thought. I was one of those people Barack accuses of
being willing to settle. I even had framed a flattering autographed
message from Hillary. But as the campaign has gone on and on, her
signed portrait still leans against the wall in my study. I don't
know where she belongs anymore.

At least Hillary was a known quantity in my life. I knew of the
danger of her becoming more and more hawkish as she tried to break
the ultimate glass ceiling. I also knew that she could be forced to
change course if public opinion was fiercely opposed to the war. And
I knew she was familiar with radical social causes from her own life
experience in the sixties. So my progressive task seemed clear: help
build an antiwar force powerful enough to make it politically
necessary to end the war. Been there, done that. And in the process,
finally put a woman in the White House. A soothing bonus.

But as the Obama campaign gained momentum, Hillary began morphing
into the persona that has my pacifist wife screaming at the television set.

Going negative doesn't begin to describe what has happened. Hillary
is going over the edge. Even worse are the flacks she sends before
the cameras on her behalf, like that Kiki person, who smirks and
shakes her head at the camera every time she fields a question. Or
the real carnivores, like Howard Wolfson, Lanny Davis and James
Carville, whose sneering smugness prevents countless women like my
wife from considering Hillary at all.

To use the current terminology, Hillary people are bitter people,
even more bitter than the white working-class voters Barack has
talked about. Because they circle the wagons so tightly, they don't
recognize how identical, self-reinforcing and out-of-touch they are.

To take just one example, the imagined association between Barack
Obama and Bill Ayers will suffice. Hillary is blind to her own roots
in the sixties. In one college speech she spoke of ecstatic
transcendence; in another, she said, "Our social indictment has
broadened. Where once we exposed the quality of life in the world of
the South and the ghettos, now we condemn the quality of work in
factories and corporations. Where once we assaulted the exploitation
of man, now we decry the destruction of nature as well. How much long
can we let corporations run us?"

She was in Chicago for three nights during the 1968 street
confrontations. She chaired the 1970 Yale law school meeting where
students voted to join a national student strike again an
"unconscionable expansion of a war that should never have been
waged." She was involved in the New Haven defense of Bobby Seale
during his murder trial in 1970, as the lead scheduler of student
monitors. She surely agreed with Yale president Kingman Brewster that
a black revolutionary couldn't get a fair trial in America. She wrote
that abused children were citizens with the same rights as their parents.

Most significantly in terms of her recent attacks on Barack, after
Yale law school, Hillary went to work for the left-wing Bay Area law
firm of Treuhaft, Walker and Burnstein, which specialized in Black
Panthers and West Coast labor leaders prosecuted for being
communists. Two of the firm's partners, according to Treuhaft, were
communists and the two others "tolerated communists". Then she went
on to Washington to help impeach Richard Nixon, whose career was
built on smearing and destroying the careers of people through vague
insinuations about their backgrounds and associates. (All these
citations can be found in Carl Bernstein's sympathetic 2007 Clinton
biography, A Woman in Charge.)

All these were honorable words and associations in my mind, but
doesn't she see how the Hillary of today would accuse the Hillary of
the sixties of associating with black revolutionaries who fought gun
battles with police officers, and defending pro-communist lawyers who
backed communists? Doesn't the Rev. Jeremiah Wright, whom Hillary
attacks today, represent the very essence of the black radicals
Hillary was associating with in those days? And isn't the Hillary of
today becoming the same kind of guilt-by-association insinuator as
the Richard Nixon she worked to impeach?

It is as if Hillary Clinton is engaged in a toxic transmission onto
Barack Obama of every outrageous insult and accusation ever inflicted
on her by the American right over the decades. She is running against
what she might have become. Too much politics dries the soul of the idealist.

It is abundantly clear that the Clintons, working with FOX News and
manipulating old Clinton staffers like George Stephanopoulos, are
trying, at least unconsciously, to so damage Barack Obama that he
will be perceived as "unelectable" to Democratic superdelegates. It
is also clear that the campaign of defamation against Obama has
resulted in higher negative ratings for Hillary Clinton. She
therefore is threatening the Democratic Party's chances for the White
House, whether or not she is the nominee.

Since no one in the party leadership seems able or willing to
intervene against this self-destructive downward spiral, perhaps
progressives need to consider responding in the only way politicians
sometimes understand. If they can't hear us screaming at the
television sets, we can send a message that the Clintons are acting
as if they prefer John McCain to Barack Obama. And follow it up with
another message: if Clinton doesn't immediately cease her path of
destruction, millions of young voters and black voters may not send
checks, may not knock on doors, and may not even vote for her if she
becomes the nominee. That's not a threat, that's the reality she is creating.
--

About Tom Hayden

Tom Hayden is the author of The Other Side (1966, with Staughton
Lynd), The Love of Possession Is a Disease With Them (1972), Ending
the War in Iraq (2007) and Writings for a Democratic Society: The Tom
Hayden Reader (2008).

.

Remembering Columbia, 1968

[4 articles]

Columbia Protester, Now a Judge, Returns to Campus

http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/04/25/columbia-protester-now-a-judge-returns-to-campus/?hp

April 25, 2008
By Corey Kilgannon

Forty years ago, a young radical Columbia Law student named Gus
Reichbach became the first student prominently disciplined by
Columbia University for his participation in the blockades and
protests in 1968.

He is now Justice Gustin L. Reichbach of the State Supreme Court in
Brooklyn (in the news most recently for presiding over the DeVecchio trial).

He has traded in his rebel bell bottoms for dapper designer suits,
and his flowing hair has started to gray. He was back at Columbia on
Wednesday for events commemorating the 40th anniversary of the
student protests. (More events are scheduled for this weekend.)

Mr. Reichbach had been invited to the law school to speak about how
his radical days at Columbia Law shaped his legal career. He is still
known by his tabloid nickname as the "Condom Judge," for his practice
years ago of handing out condoms.

On Wednesday on College Walk at the foot of the Low Library Steps, he
stopped to speak to a group of current student activists protesting
the war in Iraq and he hugged Hilton Obenzinger, the writer, who was
also a student-activist during the 1968 Riots.

I videotaped the group, and then Judge Reichbach solo as he explained
how law school professors tried to block his admittance to the Bar Association.

He mused on the chances of such an anti-authoritarian as himself
becoming a judge. After all, this former campus leader of Students
for a Democratic Society had represented the Black Panthers and Abbie
Hoffman, and helped write ''The Bust Book: What to Do Till the Lawyer Comes."

"Who woulda thunk it?" he said with a self-satisfied smile. With
those words, as if on cue, a campus security sergeant drove up and
asked us if we had secured permission to conduct interview on
university grounds.

It was déjà vu for Gus Reichbach, who was never enamored of Columbia
authorities ­ he still rails against the old university officials
with real venom ­ fighting the power, even from the bench.

A smile seemed to play across his face. Was he getting Punk'd?
Perhaps a Columbia version of Candid Camera? [Actually, the closest
camera was mine and you can watch the encounter towards the end of
the accompanying video.]

After all, the university charged him back in 1968 with assaulting a
university security officer. He was exonerated after chaotic
tribunals and hearings but he was considered a notorious enough
radical to be under FBI surveillance.

But now he was dressed in a blue pinstriped suit. His shirt and
matching pocket square were Columbia blue, and he held a brown
folder. His only radical accessory was a vicious pair of black
wraparound sunglasses.

Justice Reichbach told the sergeant he was being interviewed by a
reporter from The Times. The sergeant responded: Not without
university permission.

"I didn't realize Columbia had an exception to the First Amendment,"
the judge said. Suddenly, 1968 seemed not so long ago. The sergeant
examined my press pass and asked the well-dressed man his name, to
which the judge said "Judge Reichbach." And did he have ID?

"No I don't have ID ­ I'm speaking at the law school in 15 minutes,"
Justice Reichbach responded. "You want to go over there and check?"
The sergeant called in on his radio a report of an "unauthorized
interview" and pressed the judge about where in the Law School he was
headed. He put his hand over my camera. Interview over.

"I guess things haven't changed that much," the judge said softly and
was soon on his way. No charges this time. The sergeant remained with
me until a university public relations official came out and
explained the press permission policy. The sergeant was a
professional and we shook hands, my camera safely packed away.

--------

Remembering Columbia, 1968

http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/04/25/remembering-columbia-1968/

April 25, 2008
By Robert D. McFadden

Columbia University's campus was eerie that night. Japanese music
drifted from Fayerweather Hall, one of the occupied buildings, and a
sitar played ancient peace into the cold darkness. Protesters moved
furtively in the shadows, and down the quadrangle hundreds of police
officers formed a skirmish line.

Tensions had been building for a week over a protest against what
thousands of students and even many faculty members regarded as
racism and militarism by Columbia. Five campus buildings had been
seized by radical students, a dean had been taken hostage briefly and
the university had been shut down.

Negotiations to resolve the crisis had collapsed after midnight and
Columbia's president, Dr. Grayson Kirk, had called the police onto
the campus on Morningside Heights ­ an act of utter desperation and
anathema in the academic world. A "bust" was imminent, and emotions
had reached the breaking point.

As the crisis approached, the authorities cut off telephones and
water at the five buildings, and issued final warnings over
bullhorns: "This is it. Come out now. You made your point. Come out now!"

It was 2:20 a.m. on April 30, 1968 ­ nearly 40 years ago, but a
moment branded in the memory of a young newsman. I was near Low
Library, the administration building, with several reporters,
including my New York Times colleague, Robert McG. Thomas Jr., as the
phalanx of helmeted officers began moving up the wide lawns of the
university quadrangle.

They came on inexorably, a disciplined blue line of bobbing
flashlights and many with nightsticks, then broke into a ragged
charge. The students fell back, some tripping over low chain-link
fences, and scattered like disturbed insects. There were screams,
shouted obscenities and cries of "fascist pigs!"

Some protesters were trampled. Others were hit with flailing
nightsticks by uniformed officers, or saps wielded by plainclothes
men, some of them dressed like students in scruffy clothes, all with
their badges hidden. Students were punched and kicked. Some were
dragged down concrete steps outside Low Library.

On a lawn between Fayerweather and Avery Hall, another occupied
building, two uniformed officers grabbed a young woman, spun her
around and hurled her into a tree. Nearby two officers threw a youth
to the ground, and when he tried to get up pushed him down again; a
plainclothes man rushed up and stomped the fallen man.

Outside Fayerweather Hall, a hundred students and two dozen faculty
members, some wrapped in blankets against the chill, gathered on the
steps, trying to block the entrance. Officers and plainclothes men
formed a wedge and charged through the line, flinging bodies aside,
stomping on arms and legs.

"I was punched in the nose," said John F. Khanlian, an undergraduate.
He could hardly see because blood was running down his face.

In Avery Hall, Mr. Thomas, who showed his Times press card and
entered with the officers, was challenged by a plainclothes man on
the second floor and told he would have to leave. An appeal to a
deputy inspector failed, and when he turned to the curving marble
staircase he was grabbed, slugged in the head by an officer using
handcuffs as brass knuckles and thrown down the stairs.

Uniformed officers lining the stairs like a gantlet struck him
repeatedly as he tumbled down, and at the bottom more plainclothes
men pummeled him on the head. He lost his glasses but made his way
out. He was not arrested, but his wounds required 12 stitches to close.

A Life Magazine photographer, Steve Shapiro, was punched in the eye
by a policeman and one of his cameras was smashed after he showed his
press identification.

At Mathematics Building on the west side of the campus, three young
women and a young man were pulled out by their arms and legs and
dragged for hundreds of yards to police vans on Broadway. "Stop
twisting their arms," a nurse from the student health service shouted
as she followed the procession.

At Hamilton Hall, occupied by black students, the takeover was
finished even before the doors were unlocked. The police entered
through secret tunnels and met no resistance. Nearly all the
protesters there were taken into custody peacefully. The police also
got into Low Library through tunnels, swiftly retaking the building
and dragging the occupiers away.

There was more violence at the other buildings, where the police had
to shoulder aside barricades of furniture erected at the doors. Many
protesters were carried out by groups of four officers, each holding
a limb, though protesters' backs sometimes scraped the ground. Some
left of their own accord, though under arrest.

It was all over by 5 a.m. About 1,000 police officers had
participated; 132 students, 4 faculty members and 12 police officers
had been injured, most suffering cuts and bruises, and 720 had been
arrested, mostly on charges of criminal trespass and disorderly conduct.

Unlike antiwar or civil rights demonstrators of the 1960's who were
more experienced in truly brutal arrests, most students caught in the
Columbia confrontations of 1968 were treated relatively lightly,
though most called it police brutality.

The damage was extensive. Furniture had been smashed, shelves
toppled, windows broken, filing cabinets rifled, carpets strewn with
cigarette butts and papers strewn in drifts. And the detritus of an
eight-day occupation was everywhere: dirty blankets and half-eaten
sandwiches; posters of Lenin, Che Guevara and Malcolm X. And, of
course, the residue of hatred.

Was it worth it? The answer depended on what person you asked.

Mark Rudd, the 20-year-old leader of the Columbia chapter of Students
for a Democratic Society, called it a just protest against the
university's plan to build two gymnasiums on the slope running from
Morningside Heights down to Harlem, one at the top for students, with
its own entrance, and one at the bottom for Harlem residents, with a
separate entrance: an arrangement that struck many as a taste of Jim
Crow. (It was also staged against university ties to the Institute
for Defense Analysis, which carried out projects for the Pentagon.)
The protesters also demanded amnesty.

To Edward Schwartz, president of the National Student Association, it
was outrageous to bring 1,000 police officers onto a university
campus. "The brutality of this action has pierced through all
ambiguities surrounding the issues at Columbia," he said.

To Dr. Kirk, Columbia's president, wandering exhausted amid smashed
desks and chairs in his Low Library office, nothing warranted the
disruption of education for the university's 17,500 students. The
decision to call the police, he said, was "obviously the most painful
one I ever made," but acceding to protesters' demands for amnesty
"would have dealt a near-fatal blow not only to this institution but
to the whole of American higher education."

Outside, a dialogue between two students caught another perspective.

"I came here for an education," said a young man in a jacket and tie.

"Yes, so did I," said a young woman. "But don't you think that this
is part of education ­ to be part of the world?"

--------

Columbia's Radicals of 1968 Hold a Bittersweet Reunion

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/28/nyregion/28columbia.html

By JOHN KIFNER
Published: April 28, 2008

Spring, with the trees and flowers in blossom, is a time when
colleges hold their reunions. So over the weekend a very specific
group of Columbia University alumni gathered in Morningside Heights
to recall their campus days.

The beatings. The arrests. The building takeovers. The heady communal
life in the occupied college buildings. And, most vividly, "the
bust," the early morning of April 30, 1968, when the police stormed
the campus, pounding them bloody with nightsticks and dragging some
to police vans by their hair.

Sipping white wine and hugging old friends at the opening reception
Thursday evening, it looked like any Ivy League reunion ­ the men's
hair gone gray or white or just gone ­ but Robert Friedman, then the
editor of The Spectator, the student daily newspaper, and an
organizer of the event, grew increasingly frustrated as he tried to
get them to take their seats for a panel discussion.

"Boy, this is an unruly crowd," he said.

"Wooooooo," came the cry from the wrinkled radicals, breaking into
applause, proud they were as rambunctious as they had been 40 years ago.

In 1968, students at Columbia and Barnard seized five campus
buildings, resulting in 712 arrests during the big police raid and
scores more in subsequent demonstrations. They mobilized a strike
that shut down the university. They ultimately won their goals of
stopping the building of a gym on public land in Morningside Park,
severing ties with a Pentagon institute doing research for the
Vietnam War, and gaining amnesty for demonstrators and, not
incidentally, the early resignations of their enemies, Columbia's
president, Grayson L. Kirk; and its provost, David B. Truman.

It was an intensely emotional time, and those emotions were recalled
during a series of earnest and well-attended panel discussions on the
legacy of the student movement, feminism, race, political action and,
inevitably, "From Vietnam to Iraq." Indeed, "wooooooo" was without a
doubt the most frequently used word as people cheered a political
point or an often hilarious recollection.

But the most stunning moments came Friday night during an elaborately
planned reconstruction of the events of April 1968 as black students
­ who had ordered the white radical members of Students for a
Democratic Society out of the building they had occupied, Hamilton
Hall ­ poured out bitter recollections of their experiences at Columbia.

"The worst racism I've seen is here at Morningside Heights," said Al
Dempsey, who grew up in a still segregated South and who is now a
judge in Georgia.

Listening to the criticisms, some white radicals realized that they
had not only been holding separate demonstrations, but living
separate lives back then ­ and in large part now.

At a literary reading on Saturday night by '68-era Columbia alumni
who became writers ­ there are many ­ Paul Spike was so affected that
he abandoned any reading of his work to speak emotionally.

"Last night was an astonishing experience to learn the black
experience at Columbia," he said. "At best I was indifferent, at
worst complicit. On a personal level I think I was a good German."

As the conference ended on Sunday morning, Tom Hurwitz, now a film
maker, then an S.D.S. member occupying the math building, said there
had been a reconciliation.

"After we left Hamilton Hall, we went our separate ways," he said.
"After 40 years, we've forgiven one another, we've reached out to one another."

Of the roughly 1,100 students who took part in the occupation of the
five campus buildings, about 500 attended the reunion, said Nancy
Biberman, one of the organizers. At the time, the campus was divided,
with a conservative group, calling itself the Majority Coalition and
composed partly of athletes, opposing the strike and building
takeovers. They were not represented.

This time around, the aging strikers were even welcomed back by the
current Columbia president, Lee C. Bollinger, who participated on a
panel on official responses to political activism.

"I thought about making my office available to you all night," he
said jokingly.

"Do you have cigars," came a shout from the back, a reference to the
famed smoking of President Kirk's White Owls by students occupying his office.

"Welcome back," Mr. Bollinger went on. "I'm really proud to have you here."

Nevertheless, there was muttering among some participants over his
presence because of Columbia's plans to greatly expand its campus
north into Manhattanville. The university's poor relations with its
largely black neighbors have long been an issue. In the case of the
scrapped gym in 1968, the plan was seen as racist in part because it
was to feature a backdoor entrance for Harlem residents and because
many in the community opposed building on scarce parkland.

Among those who showed up, from as far away as the campuses of
Stanford and the University of California at Berkeley, were a large
number of professors and other educators, as well as poets, writers,
musicians, lawyers and a couple of judges, who all had tried to stick
to the early idealism of the 1968 strike.

"It defined you," Susan Kahn, a writer and researcher, said of the
strike. "You became a person who tried to be true to it for 40 years,
who in one way or another tried to make the world better."

But less than a year later, S.D.S. would fragment, with some of the
Columbia activists moving into the much more radical Weatherman
organization. This, too, was evident Sunday morning at a more somber
ceremony to honor those who had died in the intervening years. The
dead were not only former students, but those who had touched their
lives, like the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, Mayor
John V. Lindsay, Margaret Mead, Abbie Hoffman, the folk singer Phil
Ochs and even Dr. Truman, the provost.

Among the names read out to the striking of a Buddhist gong was Ted
Gold, killed in March 1970 in the explosion of a Weatherman bomb he
was making in the basement of a Greenwich Village town house; and
John Jacobs, known as J. J., a founder of the Weathermen, who died of
cancer while living under an assumed name in Vancouver, British Columbia.

Edward J. Hyman, a professor of psychology at Berkeley, recalled how
Mr. Gold had recruited him to join S.D.S.

"For many decades, I've avoided Columbia because of the death of Ted
Gold," he told the crowd. "It's been wonderful to spend time with
you, and I love you all."

Brian Flanagan, another member of S.D.S., said: "J. J. embodied the
spirit of resistance of those times. May J. J.'s spirit live on in
ours." He added that his ashes had been spread on Che Guevera's
memorial in Cuba.

But most of the weekend was spent remembering the heady days of the
strike, the nearly constant gathering at the Sundial on College Walk
for rallies and demonstrations, throwing food over the heads of
counterdemonstrators to the second-story windows of Low Library, the
endless debates and splitting into factions. Each person identified
himself by the "commune" he or she had occupied: Low, Fayerweather,
Avery or Math.

"It's kind of an impressionistic mush," said Ms. Biberman, who now
runs a low-income housing agency in the Bronx. "I don't remember a
whole lot about class."

Much of the reminiscing took place at the Friday-night gathering,
which sought to reconstruct the events through a narrative of the
many participants. There was a 22-page script consisting mostly of
just names, but the stories ran on so long that they had to cut about
a third and proceed directly to the arrests. Nevertheless, after
nearly four hours, many lingered in the hallway, talking excitedly.

It was at this meeting that the bitterness of the tiny black minority
surfaced. Former star football players were kept on the bench because
the coach had a "stacking system" that put all the black players in
the same position. Blacks constantly had their ID's checked while
whites did not. The men formed their own fraternity, Omega Psi Phi,
for solidarity. At Barnard, black women roomed together and were
advised they should not take certain difficult courses.

Judge Dempsey said the only thing that had kept him from leaving
Columbia was the draft: "Thirty days later you're at Fort Benning and
on the way to Nam."

Indeed, Thulani Davis, a black poet and writer on the reunion's
organizing committee, said she had to make a major effort over the
eight months of planning to persuade the blacks to come.

"They were angry, they were reluctant," she said. "They didn't want
to come back to the university."

After tearing down the construction fence for the gym on April 23,
1968, both the black and the white demonstrators occupied Hamilton
Hall. But near dawn the whites were told to leave and take their own
building. The reason, said Ray Brown, one of the black leaders and
now a lawyer, was that the more tightly disciplined blacks did not
want to deal with "the 72 other tendencies of the New Left."

Laura Pinsky said: "Taking another building seemed perfectly all
right with me. Even though we were kids, there was a sense of dignity
and purpose as we walked across that campus."

--------

Forty Years After Historic Columbia Strike, Four Leaders of 1968
Student Uprising Reflect

http://www.democracynow.org/2008/4/25/forty_years_after_historic_columbia_strike

April 25, 2008

Forty years ago this week, hundreds of students at Columbia
University started a revolt on campus. Students went on strike. They
occupied five buildings, including the president's office in Low
Library, and barricaded themselves inside for days. The students were
protesting Columbia's ties to military research and plans to build a
university gymnasium in a public park in Harlem. The 1968 Columbia
uprising inspired student protests across the country. We spend the
hour with four of the strike leaders: Gustin Reichbach is now a New
York State Supreme Court Justice; William Sales is now a professor at
Seton Hall University; Tom Hayden is a former California state
senator; and Juan Gonzalez, our own Democracy Now! co-host.

Guests:

"Columbia Revolt", excerpts from documentary produced by Third World Newsreel

Juan Gonzalez, Democracy Now! co-host and a columnist for the New
York Daily News. In 1968 Juan was a member of SDS and one of the only
Latino activists on the Columbia campus.

William Sales, former chair of African American Studies at Seton Hall
University. In 1968 he was a leader of the Student Afro-American
Society at Columbia.

Gustin Reichbach, one of the leading figures in SDS at Columbia in
1968. He is now a New York State Supreme Court Justice in Brooklyn.

Tom Hayden, founding member of the Students for a Democratic Society
and wrote the SDS manifesto known as the Port Huron Statement.
Although he wasn't a student at Columbia, he took part in the
protests. He is the author of many books, including Writings for a
Democratic Society: The Tom Hayden Reader. It was published earlier
this month by City Lights.
--

JUAN GONZALEZ: Forty years ago this week, hundreds of students at
Columbia University started a revolt on campus. Students went on
strike. They occupied five buildings, including the president's
office in Low Library. The students barricaded themselves inside the
buildings for days. They were protesting Columbia's ties to military
research and plans to build a university gymnasium in a public park in Harlem.

The protests began less than three weeks after the assassination of
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. The 1968 Columbia uprising inspired
student protests across the country.

Today, we'll spend the rest of the hour looking back at this pivotal
moment as part of our ongoing series, "1968: Forty Years Later."
Several of the student organizers are joining us in a moment, but
first we begin with excerpts from the documentary Columbia Revolt by
Third World Newsreel.

STUDENT ORGANIZER: We now deny we no longer have a say in decisions
that affect our lives. We call on all students, faculty, staff and
workers of the university to support our strike. We ask that all
students and faculty not meet or have classes inside buildings.

We have taken the power away from an irresponsible and illegitimate
administration. We have taken power away from a board of
self-perpetuating businessmen who call themselves trustees of this university.

We are demanding an end to the construction of the gymnasium, the
gymnasium being built against the will of the people of the community
of Harlem, a decision that was made unilaterally by powers of the
university without consultation of people whose lives it affects.

We are no longer asking but demanding an end to all affiliation and
ties with the Institute for Defense Analysis, a Defense Department
venture that collaborates the university into studies of kill and
overkill that has resulted in the slaughter and maiming of thousands
of Vietnamese and Americans.

JUAN GONZALEZ: Students at Columbia moved to take over buildings
despite warnings from campus officials.

STUDENT ORGANIZER: In order to show solidarity of people with six
strike leaders who they had tried to suspend, they decided to take
Hamilton once again.

CAMPUS OFFICIAL: You are hereby directed to clear out of this
building. I'll give you further instructions if this building is not
cleared out within the next ten minutes.

STRIKE LEADER: I'm asking how many of you here are willing now to
stay with me, sit-in here, until…

STUDENT ORGANIZER: After three votes, a majority decided to stay.

STUDENTS: Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike!

CAMPUS OFFICIAL: If you do not choose to leave this building, I have
to inform you that we have no alternative but to call the police, and
each student who is arrested will be immediately suspended.

JUAN GONZALEZ: The students then set up barricades inside the
administration buildings.

STUDENT ORGANIZER: The first day in Math, we set up a defense
committee, which took care of putting up the barricades. We decided
what our policy would be toward police, toward jocks. We soaped some
of the stairs. We taped the windows. We emptied bookcases and put
them up in front of the windows in case teargas canisters did get
through the tape.

STUDENT ORGANIZER: And it hung up a lot of people when there would be
a little scratch or mar on the marble-top desks or something. And the
second time we built barricades, these hang-ups disappeared, and we
had decided that barricades were necessary politically and
strategically, and anything went in making strong and, this time,
permanent-type barricades.

STUDENT ORGANIZER: Defense is all taken care of. Security is a
problem, letting people in and out of the buildings. Watches­we need
people to watch the windows every night.

STUDENT ORGANIZER: We had a walkie-talkie setup, citizens' band
walkie-talkies, plus there were telephone communications to every
building, which the university tapped. We had three mimeographs at
work constantly, and there were people who did nothing during the
strike but relate to the mimeograph machine. And there was a big sign
on the wall, a quote from somebody in Berkeley, who says five
students and a mimeograph machine can do more harm to a university
than an army.

JUAN GONZALEZ: A week later, New York City police stormed the campus.
Hundreds of students were injured, and 700 were arrested. Images of
the police assault were broadcast around the country.

STUDENT STRIKER: Over 700 of us on charges of criminal trespass,
resisting arrest, all kinds of other [inaudible], some of which was
real and some of which was completely fake.

STUDENT STRIKER: I know of nurses and doctors that pleaded with the
police not to proceed, to please let these men alone, and they would
say, "No, no. Get away. This is our job."

STUDENT STRIKER: I was arrested. They would not allow me to see a
doctor. I had broken ribs. My face was cut. I got hit with a pistol
under the eye and was bleeding there. And I wasn't allowed to see a
doctor 'til I got out of court, which was approximately ten hours later.

STUDENT STRIKER: I was awarded a fellowship for next year. What the
hell does­I'm sorry, what does it mean? I'm going to strike. I hope
every­I don't see how any teacher, I don't see how any student can
attend this school anymore. And I was completely liberal about the
whole thing. But this bust has radicalized everybody, and me very personally.

STUDENT: I was a nonviolent student. I was completely passive. I
didn't care what happened. I was completely neutral. I'm not neutral
any longer. I'll occupy buildings tomorrow.

AMY GOODMAN: That's an excerpt of Columbia Revolt, Third World
Newsreel. When we come back from break, we'll be joined by four of
the student activists who led the strike at the university, now a
dean of African American Studies, a former state senator, a judge and
a journalist. Stay with us.

[break]

AMY GOODMAN: We're now joined by four of the activists involved in
the Columbia strike. In 1968, William Sales was a leader of the
Student Afro-American Society at Columbia. He is now chair of African
American Studies at Seton Hall University in New Jersey. Gustin
Reichbach was a leading figure in Students for a Democratic Society
at Columbia in 1968, now a New York State Supreme Court judge in
Brooklyn. Tom Hayden is also with us. He was a founding member of SDS
and wrote the SDS manifesto known as the Port Huron Statement. He
wasn't a student at Columbia, but he took part in the protests. His
latest book is called Writings for a Democratic Society: The Tom
Hayden Reader. And, of course, another one of the other Columbia
strike leaders is with us today, my colleague and co-host, Juan
Gonzalez. In 1968, Juan was a member of SDS, one of the only Latino
activists on campus.

Here is Juan speaking forty years ago during the strike.

JUAN GONZALEZ: Now we want to go into the dorms with all of you. Some
of you who may not agree with a lot of what we've been saying here,
who have questions, who support us, who want to know more, let's go
to the dorms, let's talk quietly in small groups. We'll be there. And
everyone in Livingston­in Livingston lobby, in Furnald lobby and
Carman lobby, we'll be there, and we'll talk about the issues
involved, and we'll talk about where this country is going and where
this university is going and what it's doing in this society and what
we would like it to do and what we would­and how we would like to
exchange with you our ideas over it. Come join us now.

AMY GOODMAN: That was Juan Gonzalez, courtesy of the Pacifica Radio
Archives. Juan, you speaking forty years ago, explain the context.

JUAN GONZALEZ: Well, in the process of trying to build the strike, we
were going into all the various dorms of the students and holding
what SDS used to hold a lot of in those days, which were discussion
groups or political discussions, group discussions, and we were
trying to win over more people to the strike at that period of time.
And this was after, obviously, the big­the major police occupation of
the campus, which occurred on April 30th, and as the rest­throughout
the rest of the semester, there was a strike that shut down the
entire university for the rest of the year.

AMY GOODMAN: So, Gus Reichbach, now a judge, then a leader of SDS,
please set the scene for us. How did this happen? Where were you
before the strike?

GUSTIN REICHBACH: Well, I was one of the few law students who was
involved in campus activity, antiwar activity, anti-gym activity.

The actual event itself was a spontaneous one, in terms of the actual
occupation of the buildings. But the predicate for it was really
years of organizing on the campus, really beginning in 1964. The year
before, there had been a big demonstration about recruitment in ROTC.
The gym was becoming an escalating issue. People were getting more
and more responsive to the protest of the local community in Harlem,
who was opposing the gym.

So, you know, we were often given, I'm happy to say, more credit than
we deserve, in the sense that this was seen as a well-calculated
plot, where at any point along that day things might have taken a
different turn. In fact, probably if Dean Coleman in Hamilton Hall
had opened his door and received the petition, the occupation may
never have occurred. So things proceed in peculiar ways. But even
though the events were unplanned, the lead-up involved years of organizing.

AMY GOODMAN: You mention '64. Bill Sales, '65, Malcolm X was gunned
down not far from there, now, actually at the Audubon Ballroom,
that's been taken over by a new building, the Columbia University
biotech building, also very controversial. Did that play a role,
though that was three years before?

WILLIAM SALES: The Student Afro-American Society has very definite
links to Malcolm X through the son of Kenneth Clark, Hilton Clark,
who was one of the founding members of that organization, who was
very much inspired by Malcolm X. SAAS always had a distinctly black
nationalist aura about it that was basically its guiding principle.
So we saw ourselves as being in a tradition that had been highlighted
by Malcolm X. When we actually took over Hamilton Hall, we renamed it
Nat Turner Hall of Malcolm X University.

AMY GOODMAN: Explain who Nat Turner was.

WILLIAM SALES: Nat Turner was a slave preacher who in 1831 in
Southampton County, Virginia led the largest slave revolt on the
North American mainland.

JUAN GONZALEZ: Bill, one of the things, I think, that most people are
not aware of, because sometimes they don't connect all of the events
leading up to a particular crisis, was the climate. As I've often
mentioned, this strike or the occupation began less than three weeks
after the King assassination. And the impact on young people then,
not only of the assassination, but of the disturbances and rebellions
that broke out in over a hundred cities across the country­any of you
want to talk about what the climate for young people was at that
moment, at that particular moment in history?

WILLIAM SALES: Well, I certainly can speak to the African American
experience, and it certainly­what made it an important experience was
that for the first time other than African Americans were also being
caught up in that energy. But most of the people in Hamilton Hall had
been in one or another urban rebellion. For instance, you mention the
King assassination. That very night, I and Ray Brown and other people
would go on to play leadership roles of the takeovers that were on
125th Street. First time anybody ever shot at me was a policeman
shooting over my head on 125th Street as various stores went up in
flames. We were also, much earlier that previous summer, in Newark
during the Newark rebellions. We had raised funds in support of the
families of students killed on February the 8th, I think, in
Orangeburg, South Carolina, South Carolina state. So there was a
continuous involvement in the turmoil of the day that incorporated
larger and larger numbers of people who also would take over those buildings.

JUAN GONZALEZ: And Tom, also the impact of the Vietnam War obviously
on the students, not only Columbia, but other universities­again, it
was a particular moment in history. The Tet Offensive had just
occurred earlier in the year. Lyndon Johnson had announced his
resignation. The Eugene McCarthy campaign was building up. What was,
again, the impact of the war on all of us, but the other young people
at the time?

TOM HAYDEN: Well, there was a New York Times op-ed piece this week by
somebody who was there in Columbia, which said essentially that the
war had nothing to do with the demonstrations. He also said, in
defense of his behavior, that he was crazy. He said it eleven times
in the article. He said that the war made him crazy. I think that
there's some truth in that, that people were driven to extremes, felt
devastated particularly by the murder of Dr. King. I had been a
community organizer in Newark in '67. We went through­watched the
killings of twenty-five, twenty-six people. The war was ever-present,
and it's a big difference from Iraq, because you could be drafted,
and many of the young people in the community or on the campus could
not vote. So I wouldn't call the response crazy.

The logic of it was like in the 1930s. Industrial workers occupied
factories in Michigan, because they didn't have union representation,
they didn't have any protection, they didn't have living wages. In my
experience in the South in the early 1960s, black students and
whites, some whites, sat in at lunch counters and went to jail and
refused bail, because powerless people sometimes have to do that in
order to get any leverage or get any attention. And so, the
occupation of buildings by students who had no rights, trying to
fight for people in Harlem who had no representation on the
campus­the campus was run autocratically under an eighteenth century
regulation that gave the president all power, no due process; if
you're going to get kicked out, like yourself, there was no recourse,
there was no appellate process­that was the situation.

AMY GOODMAN: Tom, can you explain the founding of SDS, Students for a
Democratic Society?

TOM HAYDEN: I wish I could. SDS was a kind of a clearing house for
discussion. It was in response to two things: one, the imperative to
do something in support of the Southern students who were sitting in
at lunch counters and going to jail; and secondly, there was a rising
awareness of the fact that students themselves, everywhere in the
country, had no rights, no real power on campus, were treated like
children. So SDS was about student power, but it was power to make a
difference on campus and in the community and in support or
solidarity with other movements.

AMY GOODMAN: And it was founded where and when?

TOM HAYDEN: It was founded slowly in a two-year period, and most
people would date it as '61. And then the Port Huron Statement, which
was named after a town that's called Port Huron­in a recent Michael
Moore movie, actually, you can see what Port Huron looks like­the
Port Huron Statement called for participatory democracy, an end to
the Cold War or the nuclear arms race, and a focus on the internal
problems of the United States, starting with race, poverty and civil
liberties. And so, it became associated with all the movements that
were starting spontaneously. I don't think it was necessary to those
movements, but it became a kind of channel where people could form
chapters, discuss the situation, come together. It had a short life.
It was a catalytic organization, I would say, a life of six or eight years.

JUAN GONZALEZ: And interestingly, I mean, I think it was­the
importance about the Columbia strike was that it brought together a
variety of movements that had been developing not only against the
Vietnam War and racism on campus, but the gymnasium was sort of a­it
brought the whole battle beyond the university itself, because I
remember­I actually was not a member of SDS at the time. I was
actually more involved in some of the liberal student tutorial
programs that were in West Harlem and in East Harlem, and I got
involved actually in January, because there was a protest at the gym
site. Columbia University was building a university gymnasium, but it
was taking public park land, and it was going to create a backdoor
entrance for the Harlem community to use from time to time when the
university saw fit to give it some time. And there had been no real
discussion about this in Harlem. It was a deal that the university
did with the city. So the community group that I was working with was
participating in a protest at the gym site in January, four months
before the strike, so I went, because it was our community group that
was involved.

And all of a sudden, this young African American minister, whose name
I don't know­I'd never met him before­came up to me and three other
Columbia students who were standing around, Mark Nason, who was a
part of Columbia CORE, and a guy by the name of Will Stein. They were
both organizers of Columbia CORE. And the young minister said­pointed
to the three of us and said, "Follow me." So he was a minister. I'm
respectful. I'll follow a minister. So he goes around the back
entrance of the construction site and sits down in front of the
bulldozers, and he says, "Here, sit down with me." So the three of us
sat down with him, and we were all arrested.

AMY GOODMAN: I never knew you followed orders so easily, Juan.

JUAN GONZALEZ: So, well, a minister, you know, give him respect. So
we ended up all being arrested and spending the day in jail in the
Tombs, and so that was actually my introduction to protest movement,
and from a complete stranger who­and I didn't even know Mark Nason or
Will Stein at the time, but I got to know them better over the period of time.

AMY GOODMAN: How did you end up at Columbia University, being a student there?

JUAN GONZALEZ: Oh, well, I was a scholarship student from out of
Frank K. Lane High School in Brooklyn, and I don't really know how­I
guess my college adviser had never heard of Columbia before.

AMY GOODMAN: And what year were you?

JUAN GONZALEZ: I was class of '68. That was my senior year.

AMY GOODMAN: So this was the senior year?

JUAN GONZALEZ: Yeah, yeah. But I think the important thing is to
understand that the land battle, because, as Bill and I were talking
about this earlier, there has not been much of an analysis of the
role of urban universities in their cities, and in­this university
expansion is a huge problem in most major cities around the country
where private universities exist, because they're always gobbling up
land for their own private interests that are cloaked as a public
interest, an educational interest, but they are huge landowners, and
they have enormous impact on what happens to the communities around
them, whether it's Johns Hopkins or University of Pennsylvania or
Yale or any of these, Harvard, any of these universities. They're all
involved in the same thing.

And I think one of the interesting things that came out of the
strike, and I think­is this pamphlet that the students produced in
the midst of the strike called "Who Rules Columbia?" And somebody
actually just gave me an old copy about a week ago, and I started to
read it. And it is really an extraordinary analysis, not only of
corporate influence on a university, but also on land policy on the
university. And it's particularly interesting because even in this
pamphlet, it talks that forty years ago Columbia University was
planning a major expansion into Harlem between 125th and 135th Street
for a research park for military research. Now the university is only
now completing that plan. Only they've turned it into a bioscience
center, instead of a defense research center. But one of the things
that we've done, since this pamphlet, I think, would be helpful for
many students who are involved in campus activities, is we've taken
the entire pamphlet and put it in a PDF file, and we're putting it on
the Democracy Now! website. So anyone who wants to download it can do
so. And it's an incredibly deep analysis of government and corporate
involvement in university policymaking, specifically geared around
Columbia University.

AMY GOODMAN: And it begins with a quote of Charles Beard, upon his
resignation from Columbia University, October 9, 1917. "I have been
driven to the conclusion that the University is really under the
control of a small and active group of Trustees who have no standing
in the world of education, who are reactionary and visionless in
politics, narrow and medieval in religion. Their conduct betrays a
profound misconception of the true function of a university in the
advancement of learning." 1917. And among those who wrote this­it was
published by North American Congress on Latin America, NACLA, which
is also now celebrating its fortieth anniversary­was Michael Klare.

JUAN GONZALEZ: Michael Klare, Stu Goodall. You know, it's an
enormous­considering that this is long before there were search
engines and the internet, the depth of research that was done on the
investments in Columbia, the landownership, it's really an
extraordinary document of research and analysis.

AMY GOODMAN: Well, we're going to talk about how the strike and
occupation progressed, what it meant when the police were brought in,
with our four guests. Three of them were students at the university;
one, some call, an outside agitator, and he was Tom Hayden.

TOM HAYDEN: Please, I was the chair, the elected chair, of the Math
Building commune, and I was arrested with everyone else.

AMY GOODMAN: This is Democracy Now!, democracynow.org, the War and
Peace Report. We'll be back in a minute.

[break]

AMY GOODMAN: Our guests are Bill Sales, he's now chair of African
American Studies at Seton Hall University­are you correcting me, Bill?

WILLIAM SALES: Yeah, past chair.

AMY GOODMAN: Past chair of the African American Studies Department at
Seton Hall University; Gustin Reichbach, now a New York State Supreme
Court judge in Brooklyn; and Tom Hayden, a former California state
senator, he was founder of SDS, Students for a Democratic Society,
and has a new book called Writings for a Democratic Society: The Tom
Hayden Reader. We are also, for our radio listeners who can't see
today's TV broadcast, showing lots of video and photographs. In fact,
one of them that we just showed before the break was a photograph.
Was it you, Tom, dragging Francis Fox Piven into the Math Building?

TOM HAYDEN: Yes. I was dressed in a nice shirt, tie. She was a
professor. She was the author of a very influential book on social
movements, on sit-ins, on industrial labor strikes, and she wanted to
see for herself. And I believe today she's the head of the American
Association of Sociologists. I hope that doesn't get her in trouble
with David Horowitz, but there she is being brought into the Math
Building to observe.

JUAN GONZALEZ: And, of course, you were in Math, which was always
seen as the radical occupation building. What were some of the groups
that were in there in the Math?

TOM HAYDEN: Well, there was Up Against the Wall Mother-–can I say that?

AMY GOODMAN: No, no, no.

TOM HAYDEN: And Abbie Hoffman.

AMY GOODMAN: There's a judge in the room.

TOM HAYDEN: Some diggers. I don't know. It was mainly students, and
most of what went on was to, you know, get peanut butter, get
sandwiches, be prepared for tear-gassing and beatings. And it was a
very­it was an intense but temporary community. And it was just a lot
of discussion and an unforgettable experience, this thing.

AMY GOODMAN: Bill Sales, was there division between the different
student groups and especially between black and white?

WILLIAM SALES: Hamilton Hall, after the first day, was occupied by
black students. We felt that it was necessary that we have a very
clear, distinct identity inside of the whole demonstration. That
being said, there was never any differentiation between demands that
we advanced and demands of the larger strike. Secondly, we tried to
make clear that the fact that we were in that building exclusively in
no way should be interpreted as a split. It was an attempt at the
time to suggest that there were divisions, animosities and what have
you. There couldn't be anything further from the truth.

TOM HAYDEN: You said last night there were a lot of Harlem residents
there, too. Is that­

WILLIAM SALES: Well, it was really a community takeover. There were
representatives of many movement organizations from the community
core, from Harlem, representatives of the Oceanhill-Brownsville
community school board struggle. There were students from NYU, from
City College. There were, of course, West Harlem Community
Organization residents, which was the primary community organize that
took the lead in the opposition to the gym. So, in addition to
students who had Columbia IDs, there were at least an equal number of
these community forces who stayed with us throughout the demonstration.

JUAN GONZALEZ: And also, I think once­we initially were all in
Hamilton together, but there was a discussion between some of the SDS
members, myself, that was on the coordinating committee and SAS. And
SAS said that they had wanted to occupy the building themselves, and
we agreed. And so, it was actually a decision between both groups,
and then the SDS members moved out and started occupying other
buildings throughout campus, because I think that we understood that
they needed to have a building that could completely be identified
and seen by the community as a rallying point and a base area for the
struggles of the community itself.

AMY GOODMAN: Gus Reichbach.

GUSTIN REICHBACH: I would just add that while certainly the specific
demands were what motivated people, there was some transcendent
issues involved. We came together­Tom talked about the powerlessness
that people felt, the powerlessness about being able to stop the war,
the powerlessness in confronting an institution that had an
incredibly paternalistic and controlling aspect to it. So, part of
this coming together­and it's really a spontaneous coming
together­was because we thought in some small way that we could be
agents or wanted to be agents in the course of history, and we shared
this electric moment where collectively all our hearts were touched
by a certain passion and fire.

And so, that was really not that the demands were unimportant, not
that the issues were unimportant, but there was this larger­and I
don't mean to reduce it to psychological terms, because I don't think
it was that. I think it was a fundamental political issue about
powerlessness and the requirement of taking action, of doing
something, of putting one's body on the line, which I think now that
I've reconnected with people, after many, many decades, have come to
observe in terms of the lives we've led since that time, that, you
know, this participation was this Sartrean moment of a fracture that
really has altered, I think, for many of us the course of our entire
lives since that time.

AMY GOODMAN: How did you become a judge after being a student leader?

GUSTIN REICHBACH: It's very unlikely.

TOM HAYDEN: He went over to the law and order.

GUSTIN REICHBACH: Very unlikely. In fact, I had a lot of trouble
getting admitted to the bar because of my participation. Law
professors lined up to testify against my admission to the bar. Some
testified in favor of my admission, so I guess I'm responsible for
destroying the collegiality of the faculty, but I went through two
years of loyalty hearings before the character committee. The thought
of me becoming a judge was­it was unlikely I was going to become a
lawyer, much less a judge.

But it actually­my becoming a judge is somewhat connected to '68, in
that I was brought into a local judicial race in Brooklyn to help
elect the first Hispanic judge. There had never been an Hispanic
elected to a judgeship in Brooklyn, and because of the peculiarity of
the election law, they needed a second warm body in order to help
elect Richie Rivera, who became the first Hispanic judge. But we
organized, having learnt doing dorm organizing and going door to
door. We ran a judicial campaign that was very similar, people
knocking on doors, walking up flights. And at the end of the day, I
won, beating­we ran­Richie and I ran as insurgents against the
Democratic organization, and I won by the munificent total of 141
votes. So that's how.

AMY GOODMAN: Well, as we talk about what's happening today, I wanted
to turn to the Columbia students today. Democracy Now! producers
Anjali Kamat and Nicole Salazar went to Columbia University yesterday
just before the big Columbia University '68 event last night to speak
with community members about the state of activism forty years after
'68. By coincidence, campus activists had organized a week of events
around the fifth anniversary of the war in Iraq. It's called "Five
Years of Occupation, Five Days of Action." Activists dropped a banner
Thursday afternoon over the Butler Library building, calling for
divestment from war profiteers and an end to the war. They also
hooded the statue of the alma mater across the street. As hundreds of
students were enjoying the sunshine and warm weather, a smaller group
was reading aloud the names of Iraqis and Americans killed in Iraq
since the start of the invasion.

STUDENT ACTIVIST 1: Monday, April 3, 2006, one death, [inaudible],
gunfire. Monday, April 3, 2006, one death, Baqubah, gunfire.

STUDENT ACTIVIST 2: Back there, we're reading names of­we're reading
the entire Iraq body count list, which is some 90,000 names of Iraqi
civilians killed in the last five years in Iraq, plus the 4,000 names
of American soldiers who have died. This, of course, is a tiny
fraction of the civilian deaths in America. A more reliable estimate
is put at 1.2, 1.4 million. But this is the list that we have.

STUDENT ACTIVIST 3: Our week of action, perhaps by coincidence, has
coincided with Columbia University's appropriation of the legacy of
1968, where it has now become a matter of establishment. Now it's a
matter of celebration. There was a janitor here yesterday when we
were having our name reading, who just came, and while I was giving
him a flyer, he described how forty years ago he was here, and he was
speaking about how there was blood on the stairs of the Low Library,
the administration building, and he was asking, "How is it that this
blood is forgotten, and now there is such a celebration of it?"

STUDENT ACTIVIST 4: What bothers me most is that even if there were a
situation as grave as in 1968, there would not be action, because we
don't relate personally to the war. You walk up to people, maybe ten
percent will support the war. So why were only five percent of the
entire campus at this rally? It should have been packed.

STUDENT ACTIVIST 3: This is one significant contrast between 1968 and
today, is the level of student involvement. I think it has to do with
the invisibility of the occupation, in general, and of the continuing war.

STUDENT ACTIVIST 2: One of the things that came out of 1968 was that
Columbia disassociated itself from the idea and cut off its
research­its research in terms of classified projects. By 1968, 48
percent of Columbia's research budget was devoted to military-related
research. What has essentially happened has been that Columbia has
outsourced this research, so whereas Columbia once produced research
for the government in exchange for, of course, enormous sums of
government funding, today Columbia instead invests in private
companies who carry out this research, and then those investment
dollars are now what funds our non-military research.

STUDENT ACTIVIST 3: There's no talk of divestment. There's no talk of
Iraq. It is treated as a foregone era.

STUDENT ACTIVIST 5: It's forty years of '68, five years of Iraq. It's
also sixty years of the Nakba in Palestine. And these are all­and
it's interesting that out of all of these, the '68 is what is
gaining, in some sense, the most traction. And I think on this
campus, it is this sort of moment that we can look at and say this
was possible, and not only to then be nostalgic about it, but then to
create the conditions of possibility, where once again we can feel
strongly enough to make it possible today on the issues that matter today.

STUDENT ACTIVIST 3: Our overall aim is to reclaim this campus as a
space where occupation, colonization and war are simply not acceptable.

STUDENT ACTIVIST 5: We've received a lot of support. A lot of people
have contacted us. And it's very heartening. But I would also just
urge people to think about not only what happened but what can happen
and what we can make possible. And I think that is the legacy. If
there is going to be a legacy, that should be the legacy.

AMY GOODMAN: Students at Columbia University yesterday, as all the
commemoration activities of '68 were taking place, talking about
their concerns today. Throughout the week, they have been reading the
names of the dead from the Iraq war. And yesterday, I think they had
only made it up through 2006, yet they have been reading for days. Bill Sales?

WILLIAM SALES: Yes. I think it's important to recognize that the
community will speak this weekend, because Columbia is more of a
threat to the integrity of West Harlem and Harlem today than it ever
was in 1968, and we should understand that protest is alive and well,
and there will be a march on the campus. This commemoration so far
has included academicians and some, you know, superannuated
activists, but it will, before the week is out, include a substantial
number of very angry community people.

JUAN GONZALEZ: I'd like to ask Tom, you know, there's a school of
thought even, among some of the folks who used to participate in SDS
and others, that the protests of that year, at Columbia and then
later on at the Democratic Convention in Chicago, actually created a
rightwing reaction that led to a lot of the problems that have since
accumulated in American society, from the election of Richard Nixon
on, that in essence it was actually counterproductive. Todd Gitlin,
obviously, is one of the main proponents of this.

TOM HAYDEN: Sorry to hear that.

JUAN GONZALEZ: Your perspective on that kind of analysis?

TOM HAYDEN: Well, the student movement and the civil rights movement,
antiwar movements were reactions to a rightwing ascendancy, white
supremacy in the South, and invasion of Vietnam. After a president
said he wasn't going to send American troops there, he went and sent
150,000 troops six months after he had been elected in. Those are the
kind of factors that are left out of this narrative.

I think this strike at Columbia was a strike heard around the world.
There were student strikes in, of course, Mexico, all across Latin
America, all across Asia, Africa, Europe. Columbia might have been
more famous, because it touched the nerve endings of the New York
Times and the media capital of the United States. But there must have
been­give me a suggestion­a hundred, 200 campus strikes, and by 1972,
universities were simply on strike en masse. The semester didn't end.

Now, I would say that it was a failure of Democratic Party liberalism
to be specific, because they were, as some are still today, so
wrapped up in the Cold War, in military spending, in anti-Communism,
that they perceived Vietnam as being a threat to our way of life, as
being an extension of Soviet imperialism. They refused to understand
that it was a nationalist movement that was very difficult to defeat
by foreign occupation, and it was a Democratic Party war from 1965 to
1968. So what were we to do? We couldn't become Republicans. There
was no party for us, as John Lewis said.

AMY GOODMAN: Recreate­go ahead, Gus.

GUSTIN REICHBACH: Well, there's also another factor that's never
taken into consideration, in terms of a historical memory, which is
it wasn't SDS and antiwar activities that elected Richard Nixon. It
was almost ten million white votes who voted for George Wallace. I
mean, Humphrey lost to Nixon by really a handful of votes. Wallace
carried five Southern states. In three of those states, it was
Wallace first, Humphrey second and Nixon third. So it was a white
backlash, not to the antiwar movement, but a white backlash to the
black liberation struggle that really tipped the election. And
everybody who blames the protesters in Chicago overlooks that
important ingredient.

AMY GOODMAN: We're going to have to leave it there. Bill, five seconds.

WILLIAM SALES: I was just going to say that we defeated Goldwater in
1964 in the hope that we would prevent escalation of Vietnam, and it
was Johnson, a Democrat, who involved us massively there. So I don't
know whether party politics completely explains the fundamental
reactionary nature of the United States.

AMY GOODMAN: Bill Sales, I want to thank you for being with us; Gus
Reichbach, now a judge in Brooklyn; Tom Hayden, his new book out is
called Writings for a Democratic Society; and, of course, Juan. We'll
be­Tom Hayden and I­at the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books
tonight in Santa Barbara, tomorrow night in Los Angeles, and then we
go on to Minneapolis and St. Louis and Fresno.

.

Hayden's 'Democratic' '60s ideals relevant now

[2 articles]

Hayden's 'Democratic' '60s ideals relevant now

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2008/04/25/RVJ2V50E5.DTL

Jonah Raskin
Sunday, April 27, 2008

Writings for a Democratic Society
The Tom Hayden Reader
By Tom Hayden
City Lights Books; 591 pages; $21.95 paperback

On the cusp of 70, Tom Hayden must be wondering how historians will
remember him, for he seems to have assembled "Writings for a
Democratic Society" with an eye on posterity. As such, his anthology
presents valuable documents offering insights into his life and times.

Sixties radicals have often seen themselves as the movers and shakers
of history, and Hayden is no exception. He makes it seem as if he's
been on the cutting edge of every progressive movement and cause: for
protection of the Brazilian rain forest; the end of gang warfare; the
triumph of the Zapatista rebels in Chiapas and more. For readers who
came of age in the '60s, his anthology might stimulate
self-reflection. For those who don't remember Hayden, or who know
little about him, "Writings" is a useful introduction to a man with
no fixed identity - save that of writer - who has repeatedly
reinvented himself.

As a survivor from the age of barricades and bravado, Hayden's voice
is probably more important than ever, especially as so many other of
his peers are dead. In many ways, his book shows how large a shadow
the '60s cast on the present. For anyone caught up in the tug-of-war
of the presidential election, "Writings" provides a means to measure
McCain, Clinton and Obama, all of whom owe a great deal to the '60s,
in one way or another.

Hayden appears in these pages as a colorful character: a fiery
anti-war activist; a feisty California state senator; the husband of
a movie star; and an elder statesman for the environmental and social
justice movements of the 21st century. Reading about him is like
watching an action-packed movie.

Organized chronologically, "Writings for a Democratic Society"
includes essays, pamphlets, op-ed pieces and excerpts from previously
published books. The writing is crisp, clear, provocative and
inspiring. The Port Huron Statement - the manifesto Hayden wrote that
breathed life into '60s radicals - had to be here, and it is. There's
Hayden reporting on the civil rights movement, and about the riots in
Chicago at the 1968 Democratic National Convention. Unfortunately,
there's nothing from his days as a college journalist, and no excerpt
from his brilliant 1972 book, "The Love of Possession Is a Disease
With Them." What is here suggests Hayden will be remembered for what
he's had to say about the legacies of race, class and war - from
Vietnam to Iraq. About his role in the conflict between Jews and
Arabs, he's also candid, and what's pleasantly surprising is he
presents himself as a cultural rebel: a son of the Beats and the
French existentialists - Jack Kerouac and Albert Camus.

For all his engagement with ideology and philosophy, he reveals
himself as a man of passions that carry him places - such as North
Vietnam in the '60s - where he isn't quite ready to go, and to meet
people, like "the enemy," he's not quite ready to meet. As a child of
an era in which protesters rallied around the cry "the personal is
political," Hayden can't help but get personal when he writes about
Sen. Robert Kennedy (whom he calls "a raw Celtic spirit"), describes
his relationship with his parents or his feelings for his son Troy
Garity. Jane Fonda appears in a piece titled "You Gotta Love Her," in
which Hayden defends her trip to North Vietnam during the war. But he
doesn't shed light on their marriage, which took him to Hollywood and
Sacramento.

In the preface to his essay exploring his Irish Catholic identity,
"The Famine of Feeling," Hayden explains he "traveled extensively to
Northern Ireland, often as a liaison to President Clinton's commerce
secretary, the late Charles Meissner." Is he name-dropping? It would
seem so. Sometimes these advertisements for himself, scattered
throughout the book, seem cloying. He lets it be known Al Gore is his
"old friend," and that Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger is "a friend of
mine through the Robert Kennedy family." But the depth of those
friendships isn't explored.

There's no atonement for defiance, and few if any apologies for past
actions, in "Writings for a Democratic Society." As an anthology by a
'60s activist, this book is probably the best there is. It serves as
the capstone to a career, though don't expect it to be Hayden's last
book. He isn't done with writing, and writing isn't done with him. {sbox}
--

Jonah Raskin's anthology, "The Radical Jack London: Writings on War
and Revolution" (UC Press), comes out in May. E-mail him at
books@sfchronicle.com.

--------

'Writings for a Democratic Society:
The Tom Hayden Reader,' by Tom Hayden

http://www.latimes.com/features/printedition/books/la-bk-peck27apr27,1,7881879.story

Tom Hayden reveals a more personal side in this collection of nearly
50 years of his writing on social activism.

By Abe Peck
April 27, 2008

Writings for a Democratic Society
The Tom Hayden Reader
Tom Hayden
City Lights: 592 pp, $21.95 paper

Recently, Tom Hayden was animated. Excited, yes, but literally
animated -- a computer-generated representation in the 2007 film "Chicago 10."

That figurative portrayal of the 1960s' most explosive trial depicted
the through-the-looking-glass realities of a time when America's
basic assumptions were up for grabs. Who was more moral: a
bomb-dropping president or an indicted demonstrator? What should be
illegal: racism or pot smoking? Families -- including Hayden's --
broke apart over politics and lifestyle. So did the Democratic Party
and, for a while, the country as a whole.

"Writings for a Democratic Society" gathers almost 50 years of
Hayden's work, as a prelude to a forthcoming "big book" that will
posit social movements as a linchpin of American history. Some
earlier views are reconsidered, but there's no apostasy concerning
causes espoused and led, which assuredly will lead to Hayden being
denounced as ossified or worse by one-time comrades who have vaulted
to the right. Yet "Writings" offers a considerable counter-record to
official misrepresentations such as Tonkin Gulf and "Mission
Accomplished" -- as well as a surprisingly personal account of how
one activist has tried to remain consistent, relevant and truthful
across his own long, strange trip.

What Hayden calls the "arc" of the anthology runs from a "Letter"
encouraging students to join a fledgling Students for a Democratic
Society to a web piece postulating that torture is embedded in the
U.S. campaign in Iraq. Early pieces, including an excerpt from SDS'
founding document, the Port Huron Statement -- which Hayden began
while jailed in Albany, Ga. -- attempt to define an antiauthoritarian
"New Left" grounded in participatory democracy. They rub up against
segregation, the Cold War, colonialism and cultural conformity.

Hayden had worked on the Michigan Daily and could analyze, write well
and voice constructive criticism of budding movements. But he soon
found that as a journalist, "I could not remain neutral." This would
prove both a strength and a tension. The Port Huron Statement
declared violence to be "abhorrent," but by 1967, Hayden was writing
book-length material about the "Newark rebellion." He chronicled a
passage from servitude to black power. But in the end, that same
black power trumped interracial organizing. It was on to Chicago.

The political side of "Chicago" took place in the shadow of Vietnam.
For Hayden, that war still exemplifies the futility of trying to
defeat a popular nationalist movement by military means. After
visiting Hanoi in 1965, he acknowledged that he was skeptical about
some statements made by his hosts. But amid the bombing, he chose to
identify with the revolutionary process and "within one's limits to
make it as humane as possible."

1968 was the crucible. President Johnson decided not to run for
reelection. The Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. and Bobby Kennedy were
murdered. Hippie enclaves formed in every city and college town.
There was much to commit to, much to be angry about.

The pieces in "Writings" that run up to the Democratic Convention go
light on the yo-yoing strategies and indecision that grew as the
authorities crushed peaceful demonstrations and stalled permits.
Hayden felt it was worth fighting for the right to be in Chicago and
that repression would backfire as the whole world watched. But a
majority supported the police, the war went on, and Movement
attitudes hardened too. The government manufactured the Chicago Eight
conspiracy, even though Abbie Hoffman once joked that the defendants
couldn't agree on lunch. Every charge and citation was ultimately
overturned or dropped, but leaders and resources were tied up.

Still, the defendants proclaimed a surging Movement -- and something
more. In the wake of Chicago, "[o]ur crime was that we were beginning
to live a new and contagious lifestyle without official
authorization. We were tried for being out of control."

And yet, the revolutionary post-Chicago years are largely glossed
over here. Aside from Hayden's relationship with Jane Fonda and their
work with the Indochina Peace Campaign, there are just hints of what
might be called "the bad time" -- when many radicals burned out or
blew up from hewing correct lines within besieged movements that
brooked no dissent while allies were fighting and dying. Some
retreated or settled in to organize over the long haul. Others groped
their way back into the larger society, even as challengers.

This is what Hayden did. In 1976, he ran for U.S. Senate, then
co-founded the Campaign for Economic Democracy before serving in the
California Assembly and State Senate for nearly 20 years. As with his
activism, his evolution here was, well, participatory. The man whose
early pieces talked about "my brothers" and who married "Barbarella"
is proud to have further criminalized domestic violence. He passed
legislation supporting the claims of Holocaust survivors and threaded
the needle between Israeli and Palestinian aspirations.
Issue-oriented runs for governor and mayor of Los Angeles followed.
He never won a Big One, but his voice was constant, in both senses of the word.

As it unfolds, "Writings" reveals a personal side not typically
associated with the analytic Hayden. "The Famine of Feeling" probes
how his Irish American family hid its roots, then was roiled as,
"[i]nstead of assimilating, I was seceding." In "Jane," he tells the
story of his relationship with Fonda; when they fell in love, "I was
32, she 34; both of us were starting over."

Together, they formed an activist family that survived their
marriage. Hayden took his toddler to Ireland and, as part of a
growing ecological sensibility, his teen to the Amazon, where bonding
in the rain forest included a psychotropic plant. Later, the son was
wounded on the wrist during an L.A. protest, at the same age Hayden
had been in Chicago.

The last parts of "Writings" seek to link 1960s protests to more
current revolts from Seattle to Chiapas. At times, the excerpts
grindingly restate previous material, but Hayden's reassessments help
keep things fresh. Though his '60s experience was "bittersweet," the
decade's activism achieved a great deal that was positive; his time
in office was "an honorable interlude" between movements past and
those to come.

As for Vietnam, Hayden regrets "most of all that I compounded the
pain of many Americans who lost sons and loved ones. . . . I will
always believe the Vietnam War was wrong; I will never again believe
that I was always right."

Well into his own 60s, Hayden continues to call for economic
democracy and against policing the world. Perhaps he's come full
circle: "Our gains will be modest, not sensational. It will be slow
and exhaustingly complex, lasting at the very least for our
lifetimes." Hayden wrote that -- in 1961. *
--

Abe Peck is chair of journalism and cross-media storytelling at
Northwestern University's Medill School of Journalism. He is the
author of "Uncovering the Sixties: The Life and Times of the
Underground Press."

.

50 best cult books

50 best cult books

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/arts/main.jhtml?xml=/arts/2008/04/26/nosplit/boanotherlist126.xml&DCMP=ILC-traffdrv07053100

25/04/2008

Our critics present a selection of history's most notable cult
writing. Some is classic. Some is catastrophic. All of it had the
power to inspire
--

What is a cult book? We tried and failed to arrive at a definition:
books often found in the pockets of murderers; books that you take
very seriously when you are 17; books whose readers can be identified
to all with the formula "<Author Name> whacko"; books our children
just won't get…

Some things crop up often: drugs, travel, philosophy, an implied two
fingers to conventional wisdom, titanic self-absorption, a tendency
to date fast and a paperback jacket everyone recognises with a faint
wince. But these don't begin to cover it.

Cult books include some of the most cringemaking collections of bilge
ever collected between hard covers. But they also include many of the
key texts of modern feminism; some of the best journalism and
memoirs; some of the most entrancing and original novels in the canon.

Cult books are somehow, intangibly, different from simple bestsellers
– though many of them are that. The Carpetbaggers was a bestseller;
Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance was a cult.

They are different from books that have big new ideas – though many
of them are that. On The Origin of Species changed history; but Thus
Spoke Zarathustra was a cult.

They are different from How-To books – though many of them are that.
The Highway Code is a How-To book; Baby and Child Care was a cult.
These are books that became personally important to their readers:
that changed the way they lived, or the way they thought about how they lived.

The Bible, the Koran and the Communist Manifesto, of course, changed
lives – but, in the first instance, they changed the life of the
tribe, not of the individual.

In compiling our list, we were looking for the sort of book that
people wear like a leather jacket or carry around like a totem. The
book that rewires your head: that turns you on to psychedelics; makes
you want to move to Greece; makes you a pacifist; gives you a way of
thinking about yourself as a woman, or a voice in your head that
makes it feel okay to be a teenager; conjures into being a character
who becomes a permanent inhabitant of your mental flophouse.

We were able to agree, finally, on one thing: you know a cult book
when you see one. And people have passionate feelings on both sides:
our appeal for suggestions yielded enough for a list at least three
times as long as this one.

So if you've loved or hated or grown out of or grown into one of
these books – or another book we've omitted – please visit our
website and tell us about it. Sam Leith
--

Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut (1969)
Sideways fantasy from the Diogenes of American letters, a comic sage
who survived the firebombing of Dresden and various familial
tragedies to work out his own unique brand of science-fictional
satire. Like much of Vonnegut's stuff, this is savage anger barely
masked by urbane anthropological sarcasm. Very much the place to start. TM

The Alexandria Quartet by Lawrence Durrell (1957-60)
The great modern Baroque novel. Made it possible for the middle
classes to embrace the Mediterranean. No such Alexandria ever
existed, nor did the potboiler thriller plot of space/time
exploration, Kaballa, sex, good food and drink (it came out during
rationing) or philosophical enquiry. Some beautiful sentences, sure;
but lots of them don't make sense. AMcK

A Rebours by JK Huysmans (1884)
Plotless, morality-free salute to decadence. An individual based on
its French author lounges about his luxurious home indulging in
pursuits such as embedding gemstones in the shell of a tortoise
until, loaded down, it expires. Dripping with Baudelairean ennui (and
not a little dull itself), A Rebours was a bible for the Symbolists,
Oscar Wilde and alienated creative types everywhere. SD

Baby and Child Care by Dr Benjamin Spock (1946)
Childcare experts go in and out of fashion, but Dr Benjamin Spock
remains the daddy of them all. From his reassuring first sentence –
"You know more than you think you do" – he revolutionised the way
parents thought about their children, asserting the right to cuddle,
comfort and follow your instincts. He also tells you how to deal with
croup. SC

The Beauty Myth by Naomi Wolf (1991)
The woman who made feminism sexy by being gorgeous and shaving her
legs also taught her readers to eat a hearty meal. This book argues
that a cult of thinness has desexualised and disempowered women just
when, after the acceptance of free love and the introduction of the
contraceptive pill, the opposite should have happened. The most
important feminist text of the past 20 years. SD

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath (1963)
In one of the original misery memoirs, Sylvia Plath delivered an
intense, semiautobiographical story of growing up at a time when
electroshock therapy was used to treat troubled young women. The
narrator is a talented writer who arrives in New York with every
opportunity before her, but buckles. The Bell Jar became a rallying
call for a better understanding of mental illness, creativity and the
impact on women of stifling social conventions. Plath killed herself
a month after its publication. CR

Catch-22 by Joseph Heller (1961)
Bitterly bouncy military farce, responsible for inventing the dilemma
to which it gave its name: you're only excused war if you're mad, but
wanting an exemption argues that you must be sane. Literary history
would be entirely different if Heller had followed his original
intention and called it Catch-18: it was changed to avoid confusion
with a Leon Uris book. TM

The Catcher in the Rye by JD Salinger (1951)
Ur-text of adolescent alienation, beloved of assassins, emos and
everyone in between, Gordon Brown included. Complicated teen Holden
Caulfield at large in the big city, working out his family and
getting drunk. You've probably read it, be honest. TM

The Celestine Prophecy by James Redfield (1993)
Deep in the South American jungle an intrepid explorer is about to
stumble on a sequence of ancient prophecies that could change our way
of living, even save the world. If only we didn't have to buy the
other novels in that the series to find out what they were! For a
similar effect on the cheap, rent an Indiana-Jonesalike film – Tomb
Raider, say – and ask a hippy to whisper nonsense in your ear while
you're watching it. TM

The Dice Man by Luke Rhinehart (1971)
Blame a burgeoning mistrust of conventional psychiatry for the
immediate impact of The Dice Man – a novel whose hero, a
disillusioned psychiatrist, vows to make every decision of his life
according to the roll of a die. As one might have expected from the
times, chance sends him into violence and anarchy, which also
explains the book's enduring appeal. AC

Chariots of the Gods: Was God An Astronaut? by Erich Von Däniken (1968)
Those Easter Island things, they're blokes wearing space suits,
aren't they? Er, no. Hugely influential work of mad-eyed fabricated
Arch & Anth, responsible for decades of pub pseudoscience as well as
for splendid stuff such as The X-Files. Increasingly common at jumble
sales these days, though Von Däniken happily got another 25 books out
of the idea. TM

A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole (1980)
Ignatius J Reilly is a fat anti-hero to thwart Promethean
selfdramatisation in any reader. With the medieval poetry of
Hroswitha swirling in a head jammed into a green hunting cap with
earpieces, Reilly eats steadily, despises modernity, seeks solace in
canine fantasies and remembers with terror his one experience of
leaving New Orleans. CH

Confessions by Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1782)
In the age of titles such as "No, Please, Daddy, Not There!", the
soul-searching autobiography looks about as cutting edge as a Findus
Crispy Pancake. But when Rousseau told his story, confessions had
never been so confessional. "I have resolved on an enterprise which
has no precedent," he declared, rightly. He added, wrongly: "…and
which, once complete, will have no imitator." SL

The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner by James Hogg (1824)
A Calvinist convinced of his indefectible election to salvation is
led to acts of murder by Gil-Martin, his devilish doppelganger. More
a myth than a religious satire, it vividly survives James Hogg's not
entirely satisfactory manner of recounting it. Consider this: there
may be a Gil-Martin near you. CH

Dianetics: the Modern Science of Mental Health by L Ron Hubbard (1950)
Do you often feel unhappy? Depressed? Ill at ease with others? You
will if you read this. Creepy bit of mind-mechanics by the
indifferent sci-fi novelist who founded Scientology. TM

The Doors of Perception by Aldous Huxley (1954)
The book that launched a thousand trips. William Blake said that if
we could cleanse the "doors of perception" we would perceive "the
infinite". Huxley thought mescalin was the way to do so. In this
essay, he pops a pill, goes on about "not-self" and "suchness", and
decides love is the ultimate truth. He also took LSD when dying, but
hardly stuffed it down the way his fans did. Jim Morrison was one: he
named the Doors after Huxley's book, gobbled mouthfuls of acid and
was dead by 27. SD

Dune by Frank Herbert (1965)
Sandworms, ornithopters, Atreides, Harkonnen and spice: chop and
blend for sci-fi fantasy, strangely like an intergalactic cousin of
James Clavell. The first in an increasingly soap-operatic sequence.
Equally cultishly adapted for the screen by David Lynch, and the root
of many a lifelong passion for complex character names and/or arcane
ceremonial weaponry. TM

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams (1979)
Forget Asimov or PKD. Douglas Adams was so brilliant a visionary that
even in the late 1970s he was able to foresee a time when digital
watches would look pretty silly. The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy
– a radio show before it was a novel, and a film, and a game, and a
TV show – was incredibly clever and wildly funny. Thanks to the
Guide, an entire generation of Britons was nursed to adulthood with
the phrases "Don't Panic" and "Mostly Harmless", and the number 42. SL

The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test by Tom Wolfe (1968)
New journalism, non-fiction novel – however you define it, Tom
Wolfe's 1968 account of the novelist Ken Kesey's psychedelic bus ride
across America with his "Merry Pranksters" established a style of
free-associating, hyperbolic writing (count the exclamation marks!!!)
that spawned countless imitations. To a generation of readers it
fostered a burning envy that they had not been in San Francisco when
the Kool-Aid dispensers were being spiked with "Purple Haze". Now a
vivid social history of a period that seems as remote as Byzantium. MB

Fear of Flying by Erica Jong (1973)
More 1970s searching for "authenticity" and "selfhood": a housewife
has an affair with a radical psychoanalyst ("Adrian Goodlove",
geddit?) and fantasises about sexual liberation. At the end, though,
she goes back to her husband. John Updike called it the most
"delicious erotic novel a woman everwrote" – but really, what on
earth was all the fuss about? DS

The Female Eunuch by Germaine Greer (1970)
Women should taste their own menstrual blood to reconcile themselves
to their bodies, declared Germaine Greer in the seminal feminist text
of the 1970s. Greer told a generation of women that society had
turned them into meek, self-hating, castrated clones. The book was an
international best-seller which earned Greer a mixed but enduring legacy. CR

The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand (1943)
Bewilderingly popular and extremely silly Nietzschean melodrama, in
which Ayn Rand gives her mad arch-capitalist philosophy a run round
the block in the person of Howard Roark, a flouncy architect. Loved
by the kind of person who tells you selfishness is an evolutionary
advantage, before stealing your house/lover/job. TM

Gödel, Escher, Bach: an Eternal Golden Braid by Douglas R Hofstadter (1979)
About what it means to think, and how that happens, this is written
in the spirit of Lewis Carroll. Pattern recognition in the work of
geniuses. Loved by maths geeks and anybody with Asperger's syndrome
and anyone with sense. But at root a chess textbook. AMcK

Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon (1973)
Europe-hopping comic metanovel of war and power, stuffed with maths,
shaggy-dog stories, childish humour and ravishing sentences. And lots
of rockets. Genius, though long enough to lie unfinished. TM

The Holy Blood and the Holy Grail by Michael Baigent, Richard Leigh
and Henry Lincoln (1982)
Similar territory to The Da Vinci Code but earlier, less balefully
stupid and with the nerve to claim factual accuracy (its authors took
Dan Brown to court and lost). The usual song and dance about
Templars, bloodlines of Christ and global conspiracies, but somehow
still chilling for all that. Staple text of the bonkers brigade. TM

I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith (1948)
This heady mix of romance and reality opens with its teenage heroine
Cassandra Mortmain writing while sitting in the kitchen sink. It ends
with the words "I love you" scribbled in the margins of the imaginary
journal that forms the substance of the novel. In between a story
unfolds that feeds the fantasies of every lovelorn young girl; but
its status owes much to the way that, as in life, things don't end
happily ever after. SC

If on a Winter's Night a Traveller by Italo Calvino (1979)
A book composed of the first chapters from other invented books.
Either a classic work of literary snakes and ladders or a tiresomely
recursive bit of postmodern sterility depending on your interlocutor.
Italo Calvino was arguably better elsewhere. TM

Iron John: a Book About Men by Robert Bly (1990)
For decades, the cowed menfolk of the world ambled about in
pinafores, dusting ornaments and saying "yes, dear". Then Robert Bly
wrote Iron John, invented mythopoetic masculinity, and the daft
creatures all rushed off into the woods together, hugged, bellowed,
wept, painted their furry parts blue and felt re-empowered to wee
standing up. SL

Jonathan Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach and Russell Munson (1970)
The book that gave 1970s idealism a bad name, the nauseating story of
a seagull who defies his fellows to soar into the heavens. "The only
true law," the bird solemnly tells us, "is that which leads to
freedom." Richard Nixon's FBI director, L Patrick Gray, ordered all
his staff to read it. Later, he resigned for gross corruption, a
fitting punishment for his dreadful taste. DS

The Magus by John Fowles (1966)
Posh young teacher goes to idyllic Greek island, there to be
exquisitely tormented by young women and a Prospero-like figure. Like
most John Fowles, this is solid middlebrow dressed as highbrow, but
stunning setdressing, TS Eliot quotations and a twist at the end
guaranteed a lifelong place in the hearts of a certain type of
bookish male. TM

Labyrinths by Jorge Luis Borges (1962)
Miniature literary mindwarps from the world's most famous blind
librarian, a writer – like Kafka – whose work, once encountered, adds
a new adjective to the mental lexicon. Unforgettable stuff, after
which mazes and mirrors will never be the same again. Often beloved
of the kind of person who agrees with its author that "there is a
kind of lazy pleasure in useless and out-of-the-way erudition", and
none the worse for that. TM

The Leopard by Giuseppe di Lampedusa (1958)
A thing of beauty, the sole bequest of the last in the line of
Sicilian aristocrats on whom the novel is based. An ineradicable
elegy for a vanished society, and, despite its risorgimento setting,
still the best psychological and botanical guidebook to parts of
southern Italy. TM

The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov (1967)
Satan live and in person, a mansized black cat, a magician and his
helpmeet, Pontius Pilate… Classic text of dissident magic realism,
banned for years under Stalin: now you'll struggle to find a Russian
who hasn't read it. Essential stuff, and with the finest description
of a headache yet committed to paper. TM

No Logo by Naomi Klein (2000)
Few books have caught a political moment better than Naomi Klein's
stylish and impassioned report on the abuses of brands, and the
activists who fight them. It was published in 2000, just as
"antiglobalisation" crashed into the mainstream, and Klein was
adopted as its poster-girl. SL

On The Road by Jack Kerouac (1957)
Supposedly filled in under three caffeine-fuelled weeks, the roll of
paper on which Kerouac typed his seminal novel recently sold for more
than two million dollars, and has spent the past few years on the
road itself, travelling from museum to museum in the US, where it
attracts queues of bearded jazz fanatics. It is the result of seven
years of road-trips across America during the 1940s. Initially it
celebrates the alternative lifestyle, although by the end it is
coloured by disappointment. TC

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S Thompson (1971)
Needs little introduction. Bad craziness as the Duke of Gonzo and his
helpless attorney blaze a streak of pharmaceutical havoc across 1970s
California, all in demented bar-fight prose and fever-dream
set-pieces. Now also a core text for ex-public school drug bores,
which tends to obscure the anarchic excellence of HST's journalistic
talent. TM

The Outsider by Colin Wilson (1956)
Required reading in the coffee bars of the East Midlands in the late
1950s; unbelievably, some people paid good money for this study of
the outsider figure in Western literature. The TLS found 285 mistakes
in a sample of 249 lines, but in its young author's eyes, it
confirmed him as "the major literary genius of our century". Modesty
was not one of his virtues; nor, sadly, was literary ability. DS

The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran (1923)
Pocket-sized set of aphorisms that sound like they were written by a
medieval monk but were actually the product of a Lebanese-American
alcoholic who died of cirrhosis of the liver in 1931. The Prophet is
a beautifully phrased exercise in pointing out the obvious but
Sixties hippy kids loved it. SD

The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell (1914)
The Americans had Upton Sinclair, and we had Robert Tressell – the
pen-name of painter and decorator Robert Noonan, chosen because it
sounded like one of the tools of his trade. Tressell's posthumously
published saga of "12 months in hell" with the exploited working
classes – their trousers the victims of poverty and their minds the
victims of false consciousness – is a totemic text of British socialism. SL

The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám tr by Edward FitzGerald (1859)
This is among the best-selling volumes of poetry of all time, and
does all that a translation should: it introduces the idea of an
exotic, different culture; and it expresses what its readers feel,
but lets them blame it on someone else. Here, in an age of doubt,
aesthetics and Darwinism, these mysterious verses, drawn from
11th-century Persian, stand as little examples of how to celebrate
life even as it slips away. TP

The Road to Oxiana by Robert Byron (1937)
Modern travel writers such as Colin Thubron and Bruce Chatwin were
inspired by Robert Byron. Travelling through the Middle East and Asia
in the 1930s, Byron provides detailed descriptions of Islamic
architecture, with pungent asides: "The Arabs hate the French more
than they hate us. Having more reason to do so, they are more polite;
in other words, they have learnt not to try it on, when they meet a
European. This makes Damascus a pleasant city from the visitor's
point of view." SR

Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse (1922)
Hermann Hesse's allegorical novel sounds a bit Buddhist but is
actually saying that experience (including of wealth), rather than
contemplation, is the key to enlightenment. It's persuasive,
especially if you read it, as many do, chillum in hand, in the
Himalayas. Although, thinking about it now, profundities such as "the
secret of the river is there is no time" don't make much sense out of
context. SD

The Sorrows of Young Werther by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1774)
The book that was supposed to have lovelorn young men reaching for
their guns. Even if it didn't inspire as many suicides as people
thought, it's still a vital work. As Werther tromps about the
countryside, reading Homer and Ossian and agonising over his host's
wife, he shows how much you're allowed to feel in the Romantic age
Goethe did so much to invent. Before he smashed the Mamelukes,
Napoleon said he wished he'd written it (and surely so did the Mamelukes). TP

Story of O by Pauline Réage (1954)
Deliberately discomforting, Story of O takes as its subject the
objectification of women. O is a beautiful woman who submits to the
sadistic whims of various men after she is kidnapped and taken to a
chateau to be blindfolded, whipped, branded and pierced. It ends with
an odd sense of triumph, O wearing nothing but a mask before a group
of strangers. Bewildering, creepy and joyless, it's a guaranteed
detumescent. TC

The Stranger by Albert Camus (1942)
"Mother died today. Or maybe yesterday, I don't know." The beach, the
sun, the Arab, the gunshots, the chaplain: the stuff of millions of
adolescents' fevered imaginings. If you don't love this when you're
17, there's something wrong with you. In the film Talladega Nights,
Sacha Baron Cohen's snooty French racing driver reads it on the
starting grid. Strange but true: George W Bush read it on holiday two
years ago. DS

The Teachings of Don Juan: a Yaqui Way of Knowledge by Carlos Castaneda (1968)
Take an enterprising anthropology student (Castaneda) and a Mexican
shaman (Don Juan), mix in liberal quantities of peyote, and you end
up with a text rooted in "nonordinary reality". Castaneda's
multi-part account of his adventures, which started to appear in
1968, and includes lessons in how to fly and talk to coyotes, has
always elicited queries as to its veracity. But when you've taken
that many drugs, it may not matter. AC

Testament of Youth by Vera Brittain (1933)
A record of a lost generation in the shape of the contemporaries Vera
Brittain loved and lost in the First World War, this memoir is also a
poignant, passionate and perfectly poised study of a woman trying to
find her place in a changing world. A bible to the generation who
read it on publication, its influence continues thanks to a Virago reprint. SC

Thus Spoke Zarathustra by Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche (1883-85)
Incendiary declamation through a megaphone. If only one knew what he
was on about. Put six Nietzscheans in a room and it ought to be a
bloodbath; except, since they're all nancies who fancy themselves as
Supermen, there wouldn't be one. Nietzsche was brave and mad enough
to kill God: but look what happened to him. His acolytes are,
largely, less brave. AMcK

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee (1960)
Economical Deep South drama around perennially hot-button racial
questions, further exalted in literary mythology by being the only
thing its author ever wrote. Even those who think they haven't read
it often have. TM

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: an Inquiry into Values by
Robert M Pirsig (1974)
Burnt-out hippy takes son on bike trip. Remembers previous self:
lecturer who had nervous breakdown contemplating Eastern and Western
philosophy. Very bad course in Ordinary General Philosophy follows.
If he'd done Greek at school and knew what "arête" meant, we could
have been spared most of the 1970s. AMcK
--

Reviews by Mick Brown, Alex Clark, Toby Clements, Sarah Crompton,
Serena Davies, Christopher Howse, Sam Leith, Tim Martin, Andrew
McKie, Tom Payne, Ceri Radford, Sameer Rahim and Dominic Sandbrook

.

Late King Editor's Underground Comics Collection Goes to Ohio State

Late King Editor's Underground Comics Collection Goes to Ohio State

http://www.editorandpublisher.com/eandp/departments/syndicates/article_display.jsp?vnu_content_id=1003792394

By E&P Staff
Published: April 22, 2008

NEW YORK Jay Kennedy, the King Features Syndicate editor in chief who
died last year, has bequeathed his collection of underground comic
books to the Ohio State University Cartoon Research Library.

The collection -- which includes more than 9,500 items -- was
described by King Comics Editor Brendan Burford as "tremendous" and
"unparalleled." Burford worked with Kennedy at King, and helped him
catalog the collection's contents.

Kennedy was an expert on underground comics who authored "The
Official Underground and Newave Comix Price Guide" in 1982.

.

Tangerine dream

Tangerine dream

http://www.guardian.co.uk/travel/2008/apr/22/tangier.culturaltrips?gusrc=rss&feed=networkfront

Tangier has long captivated writers and artists, from Matisse to
Burroughs. Stephen Emms goes to see if that artistic spirit lives on
in the 'city of dreams'

by Stephen Emms
April 22 2008

Samuel Pepys, quite definitely, was not a fan: only Hell itself was
worse. Neither was Mark Twain, who desired to leave next day. But for
dozens of artists and writers, from Henri Matisse to Paul Bowles,
Tangier, on the corner of Africa and Europe, the Atlantic and the
Med, has possessed a je ne sais quoi. Its raffish reputation may have
dried up since being reclaimed by Morocco in 1956, after decades as
an international zone, but, in 2008 is a cultural renaissance again
rumbling through the 'city of dreams'?

Tangier is a place to stroll in, not sightsee – there's even an
Idler's Terrace (Terrasse des Paresseux), where strollers gaze out at
the hypnotic blue beyond – and drifting through the labyrinth of the
medina, its appeal to artists becomes clear: the smell of mint and
fish wafts through the air, kids soar past, three on a pushbike, and,
in sloping sun-lit squares, women in red-and-white shawls and wide
hats squat on wooden stools selling mud-fresh vegetables.

I reach Café Central in the Petit Soco, its former literary heart,
where, today, snake-like music rattles from tinny speakers and blue
parasols dance in the wind. Here, William Burroughs would procure
trade for the night (homosexuality being legal in the "interzone"),
Tennessee Williams penned Camino Real, and rooms could be rented by
the half hour. As I take a seat, a wild-eyed man, arms raised, wails
the same phrase over and over. Tangier still has an on-the-brink
feeling, I think, sipping my mint tea; if you squint, you might even
glimpse the grey spectres of Ginsberg and Kerouac in the corner.

Artistic associations abound at Cafes Baba and Dalia in the Kasbah
(frequented by the Rolling Stones) and elegant Gran Café De Paris, in
the screech and whir of Place De France (Bacon and Capote). But a
thunderstorm hits town, and I decide to explore Tangier's bars: the
Windmill, Joe Orton's beachside regular, is now a pizza joint, so, as
lightning crackles, I head to the Tanger Inn, where, upstairs,
Burroughs wrote Naked Lunch – but now the beats are of the house
music variety. Nearby Dean's Bar, whose eponymous owner died from a
cocaine overdose in 1963, has a brightly-lit "locals only" feel,
while cosiest of all is Atlas bar ("from 1928").

But where is Tangier's spirit? "It's all very private," explains
Jean-Luc, Swiss-born manager of Hotel Nord-Pinus, high in the Kasbah
overlooking the bay. We sit in the top bar, as the morning sun pours
in over Adnet chairs, Berber rugs and Lindbergh portraits. "There's
still a social scene here," he says, "but it's discreet, at each
other's houses."

The Nord-Pinus, along with other renovations, such as the Dar Nour,
run by a French gay couple, represent a newer side to Tangier, that
of upmarket resort. There has, of course, always been the pricey El
Minzah Hotel, favoured by Rita Hayworth, Rock Hudson and Tennessee
Williams, but as the taxi driver said outside the enormous new
airport: "Tangier, it's changing."

The signs are subtle but everywhere. The proposed road tunnel beneath
the Straits of Gibraltar to link Tangier with the Iberia peninsular
is due for completion in 2011, though few believe it will actually
happen. The Grand Soco, once a thriving market to rival Marrakech's
Djemma El Fna, but more recently a car park, was last year refurbed
as an attractive garden square with fountains. And the food scene,
spearheaded by the glam Relais de Paris restaurant, is impressive,
with even budget options like the Darna Women's Co-op (off the Grand
Soco) offering delicious lunches. Restored riads such as Nord-Pinus
and Dar Nour dish up superb salads and local merlan, while the Minzah
has long served fine dourade tajines and pastille au lait.

Festivals have sprung up, too, including the very popular annual
Tanjazz festival (May 28 – June 1, tanjazz.org) and 4th Annual
Literary Conference (May 16-19,
paulbowles.org/janeandpaulbowles.html). One couple at the forefront
of "new" Tangier are photographer Yto Barrada and her filmmaker
husband Sean Gullette (who co-wrote and starred in Pi), who spent
seven years renovating the Rif cinema, on the Soco, into the
ultra-hip Cinematheque Tanger. "But it's accessible to all," says
36-year-old Barrada, as she shows me the "international zone-era
furniture" of its gleaming WiFi cafe. "Screenings cost 15 dirhams
(£1) and we've had people in who've never been to the movies before."

Why Tangier? "The mythology still works here," she says, with a
smile. "That's how I persuaded my husband back to my hometown." But
Yto admits the struggle for culture over commercialism will be
slow-fought. "It's a huge transitional period for Tangier: it's about
culture, not leisure."

I'm determined not to leave without meeting Madame Hamri, widow of
Mohammed Hamri (the "Picasso of Morocco") and one of Tangier's
legendary figures. The rain falls in spikes as Jean-Luc leads me
through the white-washed corridors of the Kasbah, passing Dar Zero's
famous fig tree (Samuel Pepys' home in 1683), and Bowles' former
house, where a cat smirks behind an iron grille.

With a huge smile, Blanca Hamri beckons us on to bamboo chairs in her
covered courtyard, canvases covering every last inch of wall, lamps
on in daylight. Smoking cigarettes, she says: "You come here and you
start a new life," she says. "But strange things happen. There's magic."

A 40-year-old divorcee arriving in 1972, New York-born Blanca was
seduced by painter Hamri's "screwdriver eyes" in the flower market.
Whisked off to a festival in his home village of Joujouka, she met
the gang: Brion Gysin, Tennessee Williams, Ted Morgan, Timothy Leary
and Burroughs. "And Paul Bowles soon after," she says, before adding
diplomatically, "although I'm not a big fan of his writing." As the
tea flows, so do the stories: Tennessee Williams liked Tangier, she
says, but really he was "a city boy", while Burroughs was "the most
charming man". Finally, I'm beginning to feel the spirit of old Tangier.

"It's a city that will give you what you want," she says, as we stand
up to leave. "A wonderful sensibility. In the West everyone wants to
move forward, but Moroccans are always in the present time. They're
pleased with who they are."

The sky has cleared and the pink sun is setting so, to the sound of
the muezzin, I head to Café Hafa, beloved of Bowles et al. On its
spectacular terrace overlooking the Straits, I watch a cat curling up
on the low wall: "He has a raison vivre," says Mohammed, next to me.
"He gets food from the kitchen. He suns himself. He lives.'"

I think of Madame Hamri, who, pondering a fresh golden age for the
mythical city, took a long drag of her cigarette, and said: "Who
knows who's writing away somewhere?"
--

Getting there

easyJet flies from London Luton and London Gatwick to Madrid from
£25.99 (one way incl all taxes) and return from £43.98 (incl all
taxes). From Madrid to Tangier fares are from €23.99 (one way incl
all taxes) and return from €50.98 (incl all taxes).

Hotel Nord-Pinus has rooms from £225 a night including transfer to
and from the airport, breakfast, and Moroccan dinner. Dar Nour has
rooms from £45 a night.El Miznah Hotel, has doubles from £112 a night.

.

Experience Hendrix's influence at EMP exhibit

Experience Hendrix's influence at EMP exhibit

http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/pop/360322_hendrix24.html

April 23, 2008
By GENE STOUT
P-I POP MUSIC CRITIC

With more than 8,000 Jimi Hendrix artifacts in its collection, the
Experience Music Project could devote acres of gallery space to the
Seattle guitar legend who transformed rock 'n' roll in the late 1960s.

"It's an institutional mandate to always have a Hendrix presence,"
says Jacob McMurray, curator of "Jimi Hendrix: An Evolution of
Sound," opening Saturday at the Experience Music Project/Science
Fiction Museum and Hall of Fame. "Hendrix has continued to be a
pillar of the institution's foundation."

Creating new ways to experience the Hendrix legacy is a labor of love
for an institution founded in the 1990s by Seattle billionaire Paul
Allen as a Hendrix museum. Its scope was expanded to encompass all
genres of popular music -- and later science fiction.

"It's kind of crazy that someone who died at 27 accomplished so much
in such a short number of years," said McMurray, who joined the
museum in 1994 and was co-curator (with Jim Fricke) of the last major
Hendrix exhibit in 2003.

The 2003 exhibit explored a more personal side of the famous Seattle
native through photos, diaries, letters and small but telling artifacts.

By contrast, "An Evolution of Sound" explores Hendrix's distinct
talents and how they influenced the direction of rock in the
turbulent '60s and beyond -- for Hendrix aficionados as well as casual fans.

"My goal is to appeal to the total Hendrix nerds who want to delve
deep and geek out on the guitars and stuff like that -- but also
appeal to people who don't know anything about guitars or music,"
McMurray said d