Wednesday, August 27, 2008

GOP links Ayers to Kerry

GOP links Ayers to Kerry

http://www.boston.com/news/politics/politicalintelligence/2008/08/gop_links_ayers.html

by Foon Rhee, deputy national political editor
August 26, 2008

[See URL for video.]

In the latest volley in the ping-pong match over 1960s radical
William Ayers, the Republican National Committee has dug up a snippet
of him praising Senator John F. Kerry for throwing away his Vietnam
War decorations.

"John Kerry's finest moment," Ayers, a founder of the Weathermen,
says in the video from C-SPAN of a January 2006 appearance at the
National Press Club while promoting a book.

In a 1971 antiwar protest, Kerry discarded the ribbons from medals
for valor he was awarded for his service on swift boats. Republicans
and groups allied with them attacked Kerry's service and record
during his 2004 presidential campaign.

Democrat Barack Obama's campaign has been aggressively fighting back
against an independent advocacy group's TV ad linking Obama with
Ayers. Ayers led the Weather Underground organization, which took
credit for a series of bombings at the Pentagon and US Capitol in the
1960s. He is now a professor in Chicago and has served on a nonprofit
board with Obama.

The advocacy group's main benefactor is a Texas billionaire who has
given money to John McCain and other Republicans and who was also one
of the main funders of Swift Boat Veterans for Truth, which went after Kerry.

The Associated Press reports that not only has Obama run a response
ad, his campaign has warned TV station managers not to run the ad and
has asked the Justice Department to intervene. The campaign also
planned to compel advertisers to pressure stations that continue to
air the anti-Obama commercial.

Fox News and CNN have declined to air the anti-Obama ad, the AP says.
But by Monday afternoon, the ad had run about 150 times in local
markets in Pennsylvania, Ohio, Virginia and Michigan, according to
Evan Tracey, head of TNS Media Intelligence/Campaign Media Analysis
Group, an ad tracking firm.

Meanwhile, the Free History Project, a nonprofit organization that
produced 2004 documentary "The Weather Underground," said today that
it is demanding that all broadcasts of the ad be stopped, alleging
that it violates copyright laws by using footage without permisson.

.

Rock 'n' Roll Babylon: 50 Years of Sex, Drugs and Rock 'n' Roll

Rock 'n' Roll Babylon:
50 Years of Sex, Drugs and Rock 'n' Roll

by Gary Herman
Plexus Publishing
1 September 2008, 352 pages, $19.95

http://www.popmatters.com/pm/review/61981/rock-n-roll-babylon-50-years-of-sex-drugs-and-rock-n-roll/

by Christel Loar
22 August 2008

Rock 'n' Roll Babylon, Gary Herman's 1982 book has gone through many
editions in the last 26 years, adding current content as new trends
and innovations become part of the collective culture, and as new
stars rise and fall. Rock 'n' Roll Babylon: 50 Years of Sex, Drugs
and Rock 'n' Roll is the latest revised and updated version, taking
the reader from rock's genesis in the 1950s, right up to the tabloid
exploits of today's stars (Amy Winehouse's self-destruction and
Britney Spears' spectacular decline are featured, and there is nearly
an entire chapter devoted to perpetual lost-boy Pete Doherty and his
muse, Kate Moss).

Herman has written several other books on rock music, musicians and
movie stars, including Hollywood Babylon and The Who. He also
co-founded the 1970s magazine Let It Rock. Originally, Rock 'n' Roll
Babylon had 192 pages and 150 pictures, and has expanded over the
years to boast 352 pages and 300-plus pictures, more than 40 of which
are full-page photos (several of which have served as the cover shots
of previous editions). It's these striking black and white photos
that are the great revelation of this book, for they tell the real
story of rock 'n' roll, showing it as the beautifully seductive,
deceptively inclusive and brutally vindictive beast that it is. The
first chapter, titled "The Promised Land," features a facing page
photo of a mid-performance Mick Jagger, with his pale, skinny,
hairless chest, androgynous eye makeup, and a very prominent bulge in
his sequined jumpsuit. You'd be hard-pressed to find an image that
more succinctly sums up the implied and often incongruent promises
rock 'n' roll makes.

Of course, "The Promised Land" actually details the Monterey Pop
Festival, but it could allude to the rarefied air of rock stardom as
well. After this introductory chapter, Herman doesn't follow any
particular chronology, choosing instead to group incidents loosely by
topic; he covers the '50s, introduces the first collection of rock's
many train wrecks and tragic victims and wanders off point rather
annoyingly for several pages to explore Elvis Presley's sexual
proclivities, spiritual pretenses and self-prevarication later in
life, before cataloging several of the countless tragedies of rock's
other progenitors.

Despite the jumping back and forth in time and not having thoroughly
updated some of the early copy (some poorly edited passages make it
seem, for instance, that some dearly departed musicians are still
alive), there are enough titillating stories and mesmerizing photos
to thrill even the most jaded and in-the-know rock music junkie. Sex,
Drugs and Rock 'n' Roll opens with an iconic picture of Sid Vicious
tied off and shooting up and tells not just of the well-known busts
and fatalities, but also touches on other, overlooked side effects of
rock stars using drugs (the drug trial that broke up the Allman
Brothers Band, Eric Burdon's psychedelic breakdown, Syd Barrett,
etc.). Naturally, Herman does list details from the well-documented
(John Bonham, Keith Moon, Gram Parsons, etc.) to the now relatively
unknown (Mike Bloomfield, Tim Hardin, Jimmy McCulloch) casualties of
drug use and excess, however excesses of many varieties are
chronicled throughout the book.

There's the excessive "outrageousness" of image and performance
(Frank Zappa, David Bowie, the Velvet Underground's, Iggy Pop, Alice
Cooper and the Sex Pistols are discussed at length.) and the excess
toll of touring. There are excesses of fan adoration (from Elvis
fanatics­the "aristocracy of fandom"­to the more frightening
fanatics­collectors of Dylan's garbage and murderers like Manson and
Chapman, from Deadheads to dead audience members crushed by crazed
crowds or killed by security) and the excessively abusive groupie
scene (from both perspectives).

No other industry, save perhaps Hollywood, has such an excess of
corruption, corporatization, sensationalism and behind-the-scenes
sadness as the music industry and Rock 'n' Roll Babylon delves into
all of it (extended sections on Kurt Cobain and the spectacle that is
Michael Jackson are quite compelling). Herman also dives into the
sometimes hollow, sometimes heroic attempts by rock stars to rail
against the demons that haunt them and the monsters they have become.
Whether it's an about-face, religious conversion denouncing former
indulgences or a sincere effort to remain faithful or get clean,
there are a lot of rockers quick to blame all of their sins on rock 'n' roll.

Though it's true that there is an excess of repentance in rock 'n'
roll, just as surely as there is an excessive relapse rate (not to
mention the revisionism!), there is also a romance to it. Herman
chooses the many rock star relationships of Pamela Anderson, the very
public courtship and bitter divorce of Paul McCartney and Heather
Mills, and the circus of Kate Moss and Pete Doherty to illustrate the
connection between the music, the people who make it and their
personal relationships. It's a fact that in this media-saturated age,
rock 'n' rollers are as famous for who they date as for the musical
contributions, but I suspect Herman produced this relationship
chapter (and the "Celebrity Courtroom" chapter that follows and ends
the book) simply to include photos of today's tabloid stars like Kate
and Pete, Spears, and Winehouse.

That's not to say these subjects shouldn't be included, they are
important and intrinsic parts of rock 'n' roll after all, but perhaps
the next edition could benefit from a little more time to present new
material in a fuller context. A bit more revising and editing might
be a good idea, too (because, apparently, Courtney Love gets "visibly
raddled" and Roy Orbison appears to be alive and well 20 years after
his death). Still, Rock 'n' Roll Babylon is overall a fabulous book;
it exposes all of the things that make the idea rock 'n' roll so
irresistible, even after 50 years. And the photos are phenomenal!

.

Eccentric Soul: The Tragar & Note Labels

Various Artists:
Eccentric Soul: The Tragar & Note Labels
[Numero Group; 2008]

http://www.pitchforkmedia.com/article/record_review/142668-various-artists-eccentric-soul-the-tragar-note-labels

by Joe Tangari
August 22, 2008

By 1968, Jesse J. Jones, Jr. was a seasoned veteran of the music
business. He started out at 17, touring with Jimmy Witherspoon in
1948, formed his own band in 1949, and ruled the Atlanta club scene
until he broke for L.A. in 1956. He also gave a young saxophonist
named Ornette Coleman one of his earliest gigs. In L.A., Jones worked
for Specialty Records, cut a few sides for Ebb and launched his first
two labels, Lita and Four-J. It was the failure of the second imprint
that cost him his home and sent him back to Atlanta.

Despite being at the very heart of the chitlin' circuit, Atlanta had
a relatively small independent soul scene. One of the biggest
obstacles to establishing a productive black record industry in the
city was a the lack of a studio that catered to it. There was no
Motown, no Vee-Jay, no Chess, no Stax, no Revilot-- no one had
established a bedrock label to fuel a scene that had ample live
venues at its disposable. And so Jones set up shop, pulling together
the best band he could, securing financial backing, and booking time
at the National Recording Company studio, which until then had
specialized in country music.

The first few Tragar singles were good examples of music succeeding
(artistically, not commercially) on the strength of passion and
songwriting rather than studio expertise. Barbara "Tokay" Lewis
penned and sang the A- and B-sides of Tragar's inaugural single; the
B-side, "What Can the Matter Be", is where her magic can be heard--
it's a waltz-time deep soul burner stuffed with blistering blues
guitar and topped with a righteously dejected vocal. Even as the
label grew from the ground up, its first two years produced an
amazing clutch of great music that neatly straddles the line between
smoky Southern soul and the sophisticated arrangements that adorned
the crossover sound of the North.

Numero Group's enormous 2xCD, 50-track retrospective of Tragar and
its successor, Note, focuses mainly on 1968 and 1969, devoting all of
Disc One and two-fifths of Disc Two to those years. Good thing, too,
because the labels' diverse cuts rivaled the best contemporary soul
of the time. Franciene Thomas' "Too Beautiful to Be Good" is a
stunning ballad with a billowing, sorrowful melody; L. Daniels'
"Nitecap" is a fantastic, funky instrumental led by a big, Broadway
sax; Sandy Gaye wails like a woman possessed on the burbling workout
"Watch the Dog That Bring the Bone"; and Chuck Wilder does justice to
the time-worn sad clown theme on "The Clown", a dejected, dramatic,
and even somewhat psychedelic slow-burner with a string part
descended from "It's a Man's Man's Man's World". A couple of male
vocal duos turn in exemplary cuts as well: Frankie & Robert channel
Sam & Dave on "Sweet Thing", backed by a horn part to match, while
Langston & French's "Tumbling Down" is its morose but sweetly soulful
antithesis.

The greatest discovery of Tragar's early phase, though, was Eula
Cooper, who was only 14 when she had her first impromptu audition for
Jones, walking into his office at 799 ½ Hunter St. and singing her
own "Shake Daddy Shake" for him. Cooper has 11 songs on this
compilation, and she's the epitome of the talented should-have-been.
"Shake Daddy Shake" was certainly good for a 14-year-old, and it
charted locally, but it was a warm-up. Her adept and sensitive
reading of the Holland/Dozier/Holland chestnut "Love (Makes Me Do
Foolish Things)", recorded one year later, is a stunner, but it pales
next to her original "Try", a sweeping, uptown soul number with a
great vibraphone melody and mature vocal. Cooper continued to record
for Jones throughout the early 70s, but she never achieved more than
a local hit. "Beggars Can't Be Choosey", from 1973, is a fine
pop-soul tune, and "Let Our Love Grow Higher", recorded at Muscle
Shoals, has a brilliant rhythm track and sharp bounce that was
diverted from the charts by lack of promotion.

As Jones soldiered on until financial ruin in the 70s, the sounds he
was making echoed larger national trends, smoothing out and flirting
with the rise of disco. A few of these are outstanding-- especially
the Young Divines' "Ain't That Sharp", a swinging slice of well-honed
harmony soul that could've stood with the Stylistics if it had
received the proper backing. The greatest find of Jones' later years
was Alice Harper, who chose the stage name Alice Swoboda, taking the
surname from a New York Yankees outfielder. Her two tracks on this
compilation, both from 1972, are sophisticated soul numbers that dip
into funk, psychedelia, and folk. Her self-harmonizing over the
relentless clavinet groove of "I Think It's Time (You Were Mine)" is
jaw-dropping, as is the shuddering orchestral arrangement that backs
it, while her strange mid-point between Joni Mitchell and Nina Simone
on "Potter's Field" is weirdly arresting. She was a singular talent
who probably should have been releasing albums on Elektra or Harvest,
and these sides are truly great finds.

Jones persevered for as long as he could, sporadically churning out
singles until the end of the decade, but all dreams have to end, and
Jones' concluded without ever managing the true breakout that could
have come if luck had merely sided with him once. This sweeping
collection reveals his many highs and a few of his lows with great
affection, finally shedding some light on the greatest player in
Atlanta's strangely undersized independent soul scene.

.

Judith Malina, woman alone (sort of)

[4 articles]

Judith Malina, woman alone (sort of)

http://www.thevillager.com/villager_277/judithmalina.html

By JERRY TALLMER
August 20 - 26, 2008

There's going to be a benefit at Joe's Pub this coming Monday, August
25, in honor of Judith Malina and The Living Theater, but Judith,
though she will certainly be there along with Debbie Harry and other
revolutionists­the evening is headlined "Revolutionary Acts"­doesn't
really want to talk about that.

She wants to talk about "Eureka!"

Imagine. Eighty-two years old, with hearing aids in both ears that do
not work worth a damn, a woman alone after the deaths of the two men
who were the lights of her life­Julian in 1985, Hanon just this past
May­and here she is, bringing forth to the stage as director (she's
only been doing this for sixtysomething years) yet one more extremely
offbeat drama, a heritage from Hanon, who left her and us before he
could complete it

"October 1," she says with a certain force. "That's when we open.
'Eureka, exclamation mark.' Yes, at The Living Theater, 21 Clinton Street.

"It's a participatory show – actors and audience participating
together. Fifteen characters. Two of them are Poe and Humboldt"­Edgar
Allen Poe, he of "The Raven," that is, and Alexander von Humboldt,
the 19th-century explorer and naturalist.

"Everything is flourishing­except money," she says. This is the
lifelong avant-garde torchbearer who likes to quote from Tennyson: "
… To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."

Julian Beck, poet, painter, actor, designer, ethereal
anarchist, whom she fell in love with in their teens, and with whom
she founded The Living Theater in the 1940s and built it into
worldwide often-jailed fame, died of cancer, at 60, in 1985.

Hanon Reznikov, a Yale physics major from Brooklyn, was so thrilled
by the Living Theater"s "Paradise Now" that in 1977 he dropped
everything and joined that company, where he would flower as writer,
director, and actor. He and Judith got married three years after the
death of Julian. The groom was 24 years younger and almost that many
inches taller than the bride.

"Hanon and Julian and I really ran the theater together," she says.
"We were lovers together. Everybody knew that."

A romantic triumvirate?

"Yes. And because we were a trio, there was a kind of rhythm in our
lives. And because I was never an independent woman – because we
always worked together­maybe I shouldn't say this, it could turn the
feminists against me­it was always a partnership, so it's very
difficult for me now."

Judith Malina, dependent woman! Maybe you should ask the fire
inspector whom she threw a spear at one day in the '40s during the
rehearsals of an Aeschylus or a Euripedes at the Cherry Lane, one of
the earliest of the Living Theater's many way stations. Or ask any
one of the actors in "The Connection": or: "The Brig" or "Paradise
Now" or any other Living Theater curtain-smasher.

She pats the knee of a very nice young man who is sort of an aide
these days­Brad Burgess, 23, from Boston. "A wonderful actor," she
says, "who gave up being in a European tour of 'The Brig'"­Kenneth
Brown's jolting 1960s play about a U.S. Marines punishment center
(think Guantanamo, 2001-2008)­"to help me out. And he was just
wonderful in 'The Brig' in a whole variety of roles."

It was during the original run of "The Brig," at 14th Street and
Sixth Avenue, that the feds busted The Living Theater for back taxes.
The cast, crew, audience, Julian, Judith, everybody swarmed over the
roof and into the theater for one last bootleg performance. As
recently as July 4, 2007, when a new generation of Living Theater
people went to perform "The Brig" at Ground Zero, New York City cops
tried to bust them all over again. Nothing changes.

Or everything changes. That is one of the possibilities raised by
"Eureka!," a play derived and begun by Hanon Reznikov from an 1848
book of the same title by Edgar Allen Poe, then finished by Judith
after Hanon's death.

"It was Poe's last book," she says, "a huge book, and practically
unreadable. He called it 'a prose poem' '' -- and dedicated it to
Humboldt, a fellow explorer of terra incognita. "Poe realized,
reading the works of Humboldt, that the beginning of creation must
have come from a singularity, a single point, which somehow exploded
in what we now call the Big Bang."

Or, to put it in terms of one of the lines in the play (Poe
speaking): "My proposition is this: In the original unity of the
first thing lies the cause of all things, with the germ of their
inevitable annihilation."

Bang! And if you know Judith Malina and The Living Theater over all
these years, the Big Bang of human orgasm is wrapped somewhere all
through that equation too.

Indeed, "the Big Bang will happen on our stage," she says. "The Big
Bang is when everything flew outward, and is still flying outward. My
objective is to make the audience realize they are participating in creation."

Hey, Judith, you've been participating in creation since the cradle,
wouldn't you say?

"That's right­but not everybody knows it," she says, clasping her
hands and nodding affirmation.

"Of course the scientists of that day pooh-poohed Poe's theory,"
Judith says, "and as Hanon was reading along, he said: 'I could make
a play of this.' I said: 'How could you possibly?' and Hanon said:
'I have a lot of ideas,' and began making lots of notes.

"We actually started rehearsing in January and February, and then he
died. He was working along under terrible stress­the difficulty of
maintaining the theater­and one morning [April 9] he couldn't speak
very well. He'd had a stroke. I called 911. He was taken to Beth
Israel, where after a month we thought he was improving. But then he
got pneumonia, and two days later he was dead" (at 57).

They had survived much together, including a year or more in a
rathole one-room apartment off Times Square while waiting for
construction to be completed on the Living Theater's new Lower East
Side premises at 21 Clinton Street that they'd bought on the proceeds
from the sale of the great old rambling West End Avenue
apartment­once Julian's parents; apartment – where Judith and Julian,
and then Hanon, had lived for many years.

Back to "Eureka!" for a moment. It hypothesizes three kinds of
civilization, Judith says: the cyclic civilization, "where everything
will start all over again after another Big Bang;" the progressive
civilization "that we live in now;" and the dissident, or anarchic,
civilization.

That would be your choice, right, Judith?

"Yes, I am an anarchist," says Judith Malina, the rabbi's daughter,
born Kiel, Germany, June 4, 1926. "Anarchists are looking for an
alternative to the destruction of civilization. They like it this way."

And her Living Theater is looking forward far beyond "Eureka!"­right
at the moment, hopefully, to a 50th- anniversary production, on or
around New Year's, of the late Jack Gelber's "The Connection," the
1959 so-called "jazz play" that smashed, as never before, the glass
wall between actors and audience, and was cordially detested by all
but a few reviewers of its day (you are reading one of the few). Its
subject: a bunch of guys, some of them musicians, waiting around in a
dingy pad for Cowboy to come with their fix.

How do you keep alive, Judith? How do you eat? Do you cook?

"I don't cook" she replies with asperity. "I don't cook anything.
Never did. I really maintain myself with the help of the Living
Theater people."

Living Theater­the sixtysomething-year-old international commune.
Think of it that way.

Which brings us back to "Revolutionary Acts," the August 25 benefit
at Joe's Pub organized by Barbara Maier, a voice teacher who lives in
Chelsea and read about Judith in Goodie magazine, the journal edited
and published by Romy Ashby and Foxy Kidd. "I can't stand to see
authentic New York disappear,'" says Ms. Maier. She has taught voice
to most of the people on the star-studded August 25 entertainment bill.

Doors open at 6:30 p.m. at 425 Lafayette Street. Tickets $30
(standing room) to $50 (plus $12 minimum at tables). Call (212)
967-7555 or (212) 539-8778, or go to www.joespub.com.

"Money!" says Judith Malina in her 82nd year. "It wore Hanon down and
is wearing me down. But I'm too busy to care."

--------

Revolutionary Acts: A Benefit for the Living Thea

http://www.villagevoice.com/events/revolutionary-acts-a-benefit-for-the-living-thea-568060/

Date/Time:Mon., August 25, 7:00pm
Price: $30-$50

VIVA LA REVOLUCIÓN
Keep the Living Theatre alive

SHARYN JACKSON

You'll never see the Living Theatre do a Disney adaptation, that's
for sure. The company, which was founded in 1947 by Judith Malina and
her husband, Julian Beck, has staged almost 100 works by literary
outsiders like Gertrude Stein, William Carlos Williams, and Bertolt
Brecht and served as an alternative to commercial theater. In those
60 years, the company has never been able to hold onto a space; now
located on the Lower East Side amid high-end condos and low-income
projects, the theater stages social and political commentary that's
as relevant today as it ever was. Meanwhile, they've got to pay those
LES-size rents. Tonight, several generations of artists and
activists­including Debbie Harry, Nellie McKay, Austin Pendleton, the
cast members of Passing Strange, and MC Murray Hill­unite for
Revolutionary Acts: A Benefit for the Living Theatre. Join them in
honoring Malina, 81, who will be attending, and the subversive art to
which she's devoted her life.

--------

Judith Malina to Be Honored at 4th Annual IT Awards

http://www.theatermania.com/content/news.cfm/story/15028

By: Brian Scott Lipton · Aug 22, 2008

Living Theatre co-founder Judith Malina will receive the 2008
Artistic Achievement Award at the 4th Annual New York Innovative
Theatre Awards (IT Awards), dedicated to celebrating
Off-Off-Broadway, to take place at the Fashion Institute of
Technology on September 22.

Honorary awards will also be given to New York Theatre Experience and
the Boomerang Theatre Company at the event, which will feature an
opening number by Blue Man Group.

Among the many nominees are Vampire Cowboys Theatre Company's Fight
Girl Battle World, which received nominations for outstanding
production of a play, playwright Qui Nguyen, outstanding ensemble,
featured actor Paco Tolson, director Robert Ross Parker,
choreographer Qui Nguyen, costume designer Jessica Wegener, and sound
designer Patrick Shearer. The musicals Honor, The People Vs. Mona,
and The Rockae all received nominations, as did Yank!, for which
Bobby Steggert was nominated as Outstanding Actor in a Lead Role.

Other nominees include Taylor Mac's The Young Ladies Of... for both
solo and performance art production; Petronia Paley for her solo On
the Way to Timbuktu; director Emma Griffin for Removable Parts;
composer Peter Mills for The Rockae; playwright Bekah Brunstetter for
You May Go Now; and the New York Neo-Futurists for ensemble work and
performance art production, Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind.

For tickets or more information, visit www.nyitawards.com.

--------

Malina, Boomerang and New York Theatre Experience to Be Honored at IT Awards

http://www.playbill.com/news/article/120691.html

By Adam Hetrick
22 Aug 2008

The New York Theatre Experience, Boomerang Theatre Company and Living
Theatre founder Judith Malina will be honored at the 2008 Off-Off
Broadway IT Awards.

The 2008 Innovative Theatre Awards will be presented Sept. 22 at the
Fashion Institute of Technology. The evening, celebrating the best of
Off Off-Broadway, will open with a special performance from Blue Man Group.

Living Theatre founder Judith Malina will be honored with the 2008
Artistic Achievement Award, which is "presented to an individual who
has made a significant artistic contribution to the Off-Off-Broadway
community." The Living Theatre is credited with inaugurating the
Off-Off Broadway movement and introducing the U.S. to avant-garde theatre.

The New York Theatre Experience will be presented with the 2008
Stewardship Awards for "demonstrating a significant contribution to
the Off-Off-Broadway community through service, support and
leadership," for its use of new and traditional media to connect
emerging non-profit artists with theatregoers.

The 2008 Caffe Cino Fellowship, "presented to an Off-Off-Broadway
theatre company that consistently produces outstanding work," will be
awarded to the Boomerang Theatre Company, now in its tenth season.
This award also includes a fellowship to be used toward an
Off-Off-Broadway production.

IT Award nominations were announced July 21 at the Off Off-Broadway
venue Our Lady of Pompeii. The 2008 nominations, including 127
individual artists and 47 productions, have been culled from the work
of over 3,000 artists.

For a complete list of nominations, visit www.nyitawards.com.

.

Obama's Radical Friends And What They Reveal

[4 articles]

Conservatives blast Obama for ties to ex-Weatherman

http://www.news-leader.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080825/NEWS06/808250362/1015

Chad Livengood • News-Leader • August 25, 2008

Conservative commentators in this presidential election have railed
on Sen. Barack Obama for his association with Bill Ayers, an
unrepentant 1960s radical who bombed the Pentagon as part of the
Weathermen terrorist group.

On Thursday, Oklahoma Sen. Tom Coburn appeared at Bass Pro Shops
Outdoor World in Springfield for a "Sportsmen for John McCain" event
with McCain supporters.

When asked what stories the national media have not covered in this
election campaign, Coburn brought up the Obama-Ayers connection.

Ayers, who is now an English professor at the University of Illinois
at Chicago, lives in Chicago's Hyde Park neighborhood with Obama.
They served together on the board of a Chicago-based charity. Obama
left the board in December 2002. Obama also was the first chairman of
a Chicago school reform group Ayers founded.

Ayers contributed $200 to Obama's state Senate campaign in 2001 and
once hosted a meet-the-candidate party for Obama in the mid-1990s.

When Obama was asked about his relation with Ayers at a primary
debate in April, he questioned the relevance of ABC's George
Stephanopoulos' question.

"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 said.

Obama then brought Coburn into the debate.

"The fact is that I'm also friendly with Tom Coburn, one of the most
conservative Republicans in the United States Senate," Obama said,
"who during his campaign once said that it might be appropriate to
apply the death penalty to those who carried out abortions."

Coburn made it obvious Obama's dodge-and-spin from the question burns
him to this day.

"He said 'I'm a friend of Tom Coburn and he thinks people who kill
babies ought to have a consequence,'" Coburn told McCain supporters.

Coburn said Obama should level with the American people why he
remains associated with Ayers, who after the Sept. 11 attacks made
headlines when he told the Chicago Tribune that the Weathermen
"weren't terrorists ... because we did not commit random acts of
terror against people. Terrorism was what was being practiced in the
countryside of Vietnam by the United States."

The Weathermen group, which bombed the U.S. Capitol in 1971, never
killed innocent people with their bombs -- but members of the group
did blow themselves up during bomb production.

"Here's a faculty professor who still professes almost-Marxism in
Chicago, and yet he is a confidant of Barack Obama," Coburn said.
"Why shouldn't Barack answer that question?"

...
--

Send political news and announcements to reporter Chad Livengood at
clivengood@news-leader.com, fax him at 837-1381 or call him at 836-1260.

--------

Obama Needs to Explain His Ties to William Ayers

http://www.usnews.com/blogs/barone/2008/08/22/obama-needs-to-explain-his-ties-to-william-ayers.html

August 22, 2008
Michael Barone

In my U.S. News column this week, I make a brief reference to the
unrepentant Weather Underground terrorist bomber William Ayers and
his connections to Barack Obama. They were closer than Obama implied
when George Stephanopoulos asked him about Ayers in the April 16
debate­the last debate Obama allowed during the primary season. To
get an idea of how close they were, check out Tom Maguire's Just One
Minute blog and Steve Diamond's Global Labor and Politics. The
Obama-Ayers relationship is also mentioned in David Freddoso's The
Case Against Barack Obama: The Unlikely Rise and Unexamined Agenda of
the Media's Favorite Candidate.

Ayers was one of the original grantees of the Chicago Annenberg
Challenge, a school reform organization in the 1990s, and was
cochairman of the Chicago School Reform Collaborative, one the two
operational arms of the CAC. Obama, then not yet a state senator,
became chairman of the CAC in 1995. Later in that year, the first
organizing meeting for Obama's state Senate campaign was held in
Ayers's apartment. Ayers later wrote a memoir, and an article about
him appeared in the New York Times on Sept. 11, 2001. "I don't regret
setting bombs," Ayers is quoted as saying. "I feel we didn't do enough."

Ayers was a terrorist in the late 1960s and 1970s whose radical group
set bombs at the Pentagon and U.S. Capitol.

You might wonder what Obama was doing working with a character like
this. And you might wonder how an unrepentant terrorist got a huge
grant and cooperation from the Chicago public school system. You
might wonder­if you don't know Chicago. For this is a city with a
civic culture in which politicians, in the words of a story often
told by former congressman, federal judge, and Clinton White House
counsel Abner Mikva, "don't want nobody nobody sent." That's what
Mikva remembers being told when he went to a Democratic ward
headquarters to volunteer for Adlai Stevenson in the 1950s, and it
rings true. And it's a civic culture in which there's nobody better
to send you than your parents.

That's how William Ayers got where he was. When he came out of hiding
because the federal government was unable to prosecute him (because
of government misconduct), he got a degree in education from Columbia
and then moved to Chicago and got a job on the education faculty of
the University of Illinois-Chicago Circle. How did he get that job?
Well, it can't have hurt that his father, Thomas Ayers, was chairman
of Commonwealth Edison (now Exelon) and a charter member of the
Chicago establishment. As Mayor Richard M. Daley said recently, in
arguing that the Ayers association should not be held against Obama,
"His father was a great friend of my father."

In none of our other major cities is genealogy so important. I
remember a story that Bill Plante of CBS News has often told. Plante
was working for WBBM, the Chicago CBS-owned and -operated affiliate,
during the violence-plagued Democratic National Convention. At a
press conference, he asked the late Mayor Richard J. Daley a question
"da mare" thought was impertinent. Daley's answer was, "Sometimes
even in the best of families there's a bad apple." It baffled the
members of the national press, but not those from Chicago. Plante's
father and brother were Democratic precinct committeemen in the 49th
Ward. The late Mayor Daley had the whole city of Chicago in his head.
It is only natural that his son should vouch for someone by saying
that their fathers were great friends.

The voters of Chicago and Illinois respect family ties in a way that
voters in no other state or city do. The current Mayor Daley is, of
course, the son of the late Mayor Daley; the two Daleys have been
mayors, and effective and competent mayors, of Chicago for 40 of the
last 53 years. The attorney general of Illinois is the daughter of
the speaker of the Illinois House of Representatives. The governor of
Illinois is the son-in-law of the Democratic ward committeeman in the
33rd Ward. The congressman from the 2nd Congressional District is
Jesse Jackson Jr. Jackson's predecessor-but-one in the district was
Morgan Murphy Jr., whose father was chairman of (get this) Commonwealth Edison.

But my favorite example of the importance of family ties is 3rd
District Rep. Dan Lipinski, who was first elected in 2004 to replace
his father, Bill Lipinski, who was first elected in 1982. Bill
Lipinski won the Democratic nomination in the March 2004 primary. But
on August 13, he announced he would not seek re-election and would
resign the Democratic nomination. The deadline for replacing him was
August 26, and a meeting was set on August 17 for the 19th Ward and
township Democratic committeemen to choose a new candidate. Lipinski
announced his support for his son, who was then a professor of
political science at the University of Tennessee and had not lived in
Chicago for many years. Among the committeemen making the decision
were: 11th Ward committeeman and County Commissioner John Daley, son
of the late mayor and brother of the current mayor; 13th Ward
committeeman Michael Madigan, speaker of the Illinois House and
father of Attorney General Lisa Madigan; 14th Ward committeeman
Edward Burke, who succeeded his father as a council member in his 20s
and and was longtime chairman of the Finance Committee, and whose
wife is a justice of the Illinois Supreme Court; 19th Ward
committeeman Tom Hynes, former Cook County Assessor and father of
Illinois Comptroller Dan Hynes; and 23rd Ward committeeman Bill
Lipinski. An electorate more averse to an argument against nepotism
cannot be imagined. Lipinski advanced his son's name and said, "I'm
optimistic, but one never knows in politics until the votes are
counted." It did not take long to count them: Dan Lipinski was
nominated without opposition. To the charge that the nomination was
rigged, one participant dryly noted that anyone could have run.

To which it should be added that Dan Lipinski has since won two
seriously contested Democratic primaries to hold the seat
(Republicans are not a factor in this district). One reason that
Chicago and Illinois voters have acquiesced to the politics of
nepotism is that its products­or many of them­are quite competent.
Mayor Richie Daley, if I can call him that, has on the whole been an
excellent mayor. Edward Burke is a cultured man of high intellect.
Michael Madigan seems to be a solidly competent sort, and for all I
know his daughter is, too. Dan Rostenkowski was a highly competent
chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee for 14 years, until he
was laid low by a bit of cheap chiseling; at that point he and his
father had been the 32nd Ward committeemen for just about 60 years.
(The younger Rostenkowski got his seat in the House in 1958 because
his father, Joe Rostenkowski, had supported the late Mayor Daley in
the 1955 Democratic primary against fellow Polish-American Benjamin
Adamowski.) There are exceptions. Many political observers would put
Rod Blagojevich, the son-in-law of 33rd Ward committeeman Dick Mell,
on the top of the list of the nation's dumbest governors. But then,
for Chicago, it has always been more important who is mayor than who
is governor (not to mention out-of-town jobs like U.S. senator).

Which leads us back to Barack Obama, who is now a U.S. senator and
will shortly become the Democratic nominee for an office that even
Chicago regards as more important than mayor. And the question
presents itself: How did this outsider from Hawaii and Columbia and
Harvard become somebody somebody sent? His wife, Michelle Robinson
Obama, had some connections: Her father was (I believe) a Democratic
precinct committeeman, she baby-sat for Jesse Jackson's children, and
she worked as a staffer for the current Mayor Daley. Obama made
connections on the all-black South Side by joining the Rev. Jeremiah
Wright's church. But was Obama's critical connection to le tout
Chicago William Ayers? That's the conclusion you are led to by Steve
Diamond's blog. And by the fact that the National Review's Stanley
Kurtz was suddenly denied access to the records of the Chicago
Annenberg Challenge by the Richard J. Daley Library at the University
of Illinois-Chicago Circle. (Kurtz had already been given an index to
the records.) Presumably the CAC records would show a closer
collaboration between Ayers and Obama than was suggested by Obama's
response to Stephanopoulos that Ayers was just a guy "in the neighborhood."

The increasingly sharp McCain campaign had the wit to ask the
University of Illinois to open up the CAC records. But it doesn't
seem likely the university will open them up; as John Kass puts it in
a characteristically pungent column in the Chicago Tribune, "Welcome
to Chicago, Mr. Kurtz."

Does it matter if William Ayers was the key somebody who made Barack
Obama a somebody somebody sent? I think it does. Not that Obama
shares all of Ayers's views, which surely he does not. Or that he
endorses Ayers's criminal acts, which, as he has pointed out, were
committed while he was a child in Hawaii and Indonesia. But his
willingness to associate with an unrepentant terrorist is not the
same as Daley's (expressed, as George W. Bush's thoughts are, in
disjointed prose but the product of a considerable intellect and
seasoned judgment):

"Bill Ayers, I've said this, his father was a great friend of my
father. I'll be very frank. Vietnam divided families, divided people.
It was a terrible time of our country. It really separated people.
People didn't know one another. Since then, I'll be very frank,
(Ayers) has been in the forefront on a lot of education issues and
helping us in public schools and things like that.

"People keep trying to align himself with Barack Obama. It's really
unfortunate. They're friends. So what? People do make mistakes in the
past. You move on. This is a new century, a new time. He reflects
back and he's been making a strong contribution to our community."

For Daley, family is paramount, and Ayers is admitted into le tout
Chicago because his father is one of its pillars. And electoral
politics is also paramount: In a city that is roughly 40 percent (and
falling) white ethnic and 40 percent black, with an increasing
gentrified white population, the current Mayor Daley has maintained
very strong support from lakefront liberals, including the Hyde
Park/Kenwood leftists like Ayers who were the original movers behind
Obama's 1996 state Senate candidacy. It's in Daley's interest to work
with these people and against his interest to do anything that seems
like disrespecting them. As Bill Daley told me when I asked him some
years ago whether his father would have approved of Richie marching
in the gay rights parade, "Our father always told us when a group was
big enough to control a ward, we should pay attention to them."
Staying mayor is real important to Daley, and Daley staying mayor is
real important to le tout Chicago. An unrepentant terrorist? Hey, we
know your dad. And you control the 5th Ward.

For Obama, the outsider who gained the trust of the insiders, the
position is different. He was willing to use Ayers and ally with him
despite his terrorist past and lack of repentance. An unrepentant
terrorist, who bragged of bombing the U.S. Capitol and the Pentagon,
was a fit associate. Ayers evidently helped Obama gain insider status
in Chicago civic life and politics­how much, we can't be sure unless
the Richard J. Daley Library opens the CAC archive. But most American
politicians would not have chosen to associate with a man with
Ayers's past or of Ayers's beliefs. It's something voters might
reasonably want to take into account.

--------

Obama's Radical Friends And What They Reveal

http://www.dailynews-record.com/opinion_details.php?AID=30811&CHID=36

Posted 2008-08-22
Editorial

Those who oppose Democrat Presidential Barack Obama often express
their doubts about him as a simple question: "Who is he?" But it is
more than just a question. It is a worry, and for many good reasons.

One reason is the University of Illinois' refusing to release records
of Mr. Obama's affiliation with a non-profit outfit under the command
of former Weather Underground terrorist Bill Ayers. The Weather
Underground, you may recall, was that group of fine young Americans
skipping thither and yon tossing bombs and killing cops during that
infantile conniption known as "the '60s."

What should concern everyone about Mr. Obama isn't just Mr. Ayers,
although this unpunished formerly hirsute bomb-thrower is bad enough.
It is Mr. Obama's lifelong, abiding infatuation with radical leftists
and at least one outright communist. Throughout his career, Mr. Obama
hasn't just bumped into these characters by accident. He sought their
friendship. He sought their advice. And he sought their help.

Aside from Mr. Ayers and his wife, Bernadine Dohrn, another
unrepentant America-hating leftist, we have that inestimable guru of
black liberation theology, Jeremiah Wright. Mr. Obama's connection to
this vile character is a serious concern, just as a direct connection
between John McCain and a Christian Identity minister would be a
serious concern.

When the media revealed Mr. Wright's "god damn America" speech, Mr.
Obama did nothing. Not until Mr. Wright became an obvious political
liability did Mr. Obama jettison the crazed lunatic. Aside from that,
we have Mr. Obama's tortured explanations that he doesn't believe
"black liberation theology," that he never heard Mr. Wright's
incendiary anti-American and anti-white sermons, and that the man who
made racially inflammatory speeches was a different man from the one
Mr. Obama knew. Those dogs just won't hunt.

Mr. Obama sat in Mr. Wright's pews for 20 years. Mr. Wright
officiated at Mr. Obama's wedding. He baptized Mr. Obama's children.
Truth is, Mr. Obama knew exactly what Mr. Wright believed, and he
attended the church despite it. Indeed, he may have attended the
church because of it. So much for Mr. Obama's minister.

Another of the influences in Mr. Obama's formation, we now know, was
a fellow named Frank Marshall Davis, whom Mr. Obama describes in his
flimsy autobiography, "Dreams Of My Father," as a veritable Grandpa
Walton "with his books and whiskey breath and the hint of hard-earned
knowledge behind the hooded eyes." Mr. Davis, the ever accurate and
enlightening Associated Press reported, was a "left-leaning poet" to
whom Mr. Obama turned as a mentor when the presidential candidate
grew up in Hawaii.

The simple truth belies the benign caricature of Davis as an old
geezer who took a snort while dispensing the wisdom of the ages. Mr.
Davis wasn't just "left-leaning." He was card-carrying Red, a member
of the Communist Party USA, the most slavishly pro-Soviet communist
party on the planet. Indeed, the "left-leaning" Davis was a communist
at a time when Josef Stalin and his apostles of death were murdering
millions. Space here does not permit a full recitation of Mr. Davis'
career. Suffice it say that Mr. Obama didn't have much problem with
Mr. Davis, who advocated the violent overthrow of the country Mr.
Obama now seeks to lead.

Now, if Sen. John McCain had repeatedly affiliated himself with
cosmically radical lunatics, you can bet the media would cover the
story. But leaving aside that truth and the question of why the AP
covered up Mr. Davis' communist affiliation, one must question the
ideology of a man who is bosom pals with terrorists, race hustlers
and communists. He hung out with Mr. Ayers and Ms. Dohrn for years.
He attended Mr. Wright's church for two decades. And his mentor was
an apologist for Stalin.

Who is Barack Obama? The answer is no mystery.

--------

Dallas billionaire Harold Simmons finances anti-Obama ad

http://www.dallasnews.com/sharedcontent/dws/news/politics/national/stories/082408dnpolobamaad.69811d3.html

August 23, 2008
By WAYNE SLATER and GROMER JEFFERS JR./The Dallas Morning News
wslater@dallasnews.com, gjeffers@dallasnews.com

DENVER – A Dallas billionaire who helped bankroll the Swift Boat
Veterans attack on John Kerry is the sole funder of a new television
ad linking Barack Obama to a 1960s radical antiwar group.

Harold Simmons gave $2.88 million to the American Issues Project,
which is using the money to air the ad, according to Federal Election
Committee filings.

The commercial raises questions about Mr. Obama's relationship with
William Ayers, a University of Chicago professor who three decades
ago was a member of the Weather Underground.

The 60-second spot is playing in Ohio and Michigan, two swing states
where Mr. Obama and John McCain are running close in the polls.

The Obama campaign cried foul.

"It's not surprising that the smear peddlers that bankrolled the
Swift Boat lies four years ago on behalf of George Bush are once
again using old-fashioned Washington tactics to lie about Barack
Obama on behalf of John McCain," said Obama spokeswoman Shannon Gilson.

Christian Pinkston of the American Issues Project defended the ad as
accurate and well-documented.

"This is an issue of substance," said Mr. Pinkston, who also worked
for Swift Boat Veterans. "It goes to Sen. Obama's judgment. And the
fact that he seems to surround himself with people who hate the
United States of America seemed worth exploring."

Mr. Simmons did not return a telephone call seeking comment.

Mr. Pinkston said he didn't know how Mr. Simmons, a major McCain
fundraiser, was contacted to bankroll the group's media effort.

Under federal law, it's illegal for independent groups to coordinate
with political candidates. Mr. Pinkston said there was no contact
between his group, which was founded by a former McCain consultant,
and the McCain campaign.

Mr. Simmons, an investor who heads the corporate holding company
Contran, is one of the most prolific political donors in the country.
He was among President Bush's largest campaign contributors and has
given millions of dollars to candidates and groups aligned with the GOP.

He and two other Texans, Houston homebuilder Bob Perry and Dallas
oilman T. Boone Pickens, were primary backers in 2004 of Swift Boat
Veterans, which challenged Mr. Kerry's military service. Many of the
group's charges were subsequently discredited, but its ad campaign
proved politically devastating.

Mr. Simmons is a major benefactor of Texas politicians. He has given
more than $500,000 to Gov. Rick Perry and more than $300,000 to both
Lt. Gov. David Dewhurst and Attorney General Greg Abbott.

Mr. Simmons is the major owner of Waste Control Specialists, which is
seeking state approval to expand its radioactive waste operations in
West Texas to include a higher level of nuclear material. The state's
environmental commissioners are appointed by Mr. Perry.

Craig McDonald of Texans for Public Justice, a nonprofit group that
monitors campaign contributions, said, "Texas is a breeding ground
for this type of dirty politics."

"Given the legal limits on contributions to presidential candidates,
bankrolling so-called independent attack ads is one way for
mega-donors to exercise their clout," he said.

The American Issues Project is one of scores of independent
committees created to support Republican and Democratic candidates in
the presidential race.

Its anti-Obama ad underscores how The Weather Underground claimed
responsibility for bombing government buildings. Mr. Ayers was
indicted but not convicted on conspiracy charges.

Now a college professor, Mr. Ayers served with Mr. Obama on the board
of a charitable organization in Chicago and hosted a fundraiser at
his home in 1995 when Mr. Obama was running for state office.

.

Dreams of Obama [by Tom Hayden]

Dreams of Obama

http://www.sdcitybeat.com/cms/story/detail/dreams_of_obama/7231/

Transformational president or another disappointment? That's up to us

By Tom Hayden
08/19/2008

Barack Obama, it is true, is a transformational leader. But he needs
a transformational movement to become a transformational president.

My wife and I have an adopted 8-year-old "biracial" boy whose roots
are African-American. My adult son is married to an African-American
woman with roots in Jamaica and Costa Rica. Our family is part of the
globalized generation Obama represents. What is at stake for our
kids' future is real, palpable, not only political. Their future will
very much be shaped by the outcome of this election. Millions of
people in this country­and around the world­feel similarly affected.

Myths are all-important, as Obama writes in his Dreams From My
Father. Fifty years ago, the mythic Obama existed only as an
aspiration, an ideal, in a country where interracial love was taboo
and interracial marriage was largely banned.

The early civil-rights movement, the jazz musicians and the Beat
poets dreamed up this mythic Obama before the literal Obama could
materialize. His African father and white countercultural mother
dared to dream and love him into existence, incarnate him, at the
creative moment of the historic march on Washington. Only the
overthrow of Jim Crow segregation then opened space for the dream to
rise politically.

If this sounds unscientific or, as some would say, cultish, think
about it. None of the supposedly expert people in the political,
media or intellectual establishments saw this day coming. I didn't
expect it myself; the news was carried to me by a new generation,
including my own grown-up children. It was dreamed up and built
"beyond the radar" or "outside the box" by experienced dreamers with
long histories in community organizing, social movements and not a
few lost causes.

In one of his best oratorical moments, Obama summons the spirit of
social movements that were built from the bottom up, from the
Revolutionary War to the abolitionist crusade to the women's suffrage
cause to the eight-hour day and the rights of labor, ending with the
time of his birth when the walls came down in Selma and Montgomery,
Ala., and Delano, Calif. As he repeats this mantra of movements
thousands of times to millions of Americans, a new cultural
understanding becomes possible. This is the foundation of a new
American story that is badly needed, one that attributes whatever is
great about this country to the ghosts of those who came before, in
social movements from the margins.

John McCain represents a different American story. I am constantly
aware that he bombed Vietnam at least 25 times before being shot down
in a war that never should have been fought, in a defeat that still
cannot say its name. He wants to continue the unwinnable Iraq War,
costing $10 billion per month, until every suspect Iraqi is dead,
wounded or detained, even though our military tactics keep causing
more young Iraqis to hate us than ever before. As if fighting the war
on terrorism until the end of terrorism isn't enough for him, McCain
wants to reignite the Cold War until the Russians are forever broken
and humiliated. The vanguard for the anti-Russian offensive has been
Georgia, a stronghold of the neoconservative lobby and, incidentally,
a cash cow for McCain's own foreign-policy adviser Randy Scheunemann,
who made hundreds of thousands of dollars working as a lobbyist for
the country before joining McCain's campaign team.

This inability to limit the adventurist appetite for war is the most
dangerous element of the McCain and Republican worldview. It is
paralleled, of course, by their inability to limit the corporate
appetite for an unregulated market economy. In combination, the brew
is an economy directed to the needs of the country-club rich, the oil
companies and military contractors. A form of crony capitalism
slouches forward in place of either competitive markets or state regulation.

My prediction: If he continues on course, Obama will win the popular
vote by a few percentage points in November but is at serious risk in
the Electoral College. The institution rooted in the original slavery
compromise may be a barrier too great to overcome.

Unlike the nadir of 2000, when Al Gore and the institutional
Democrats seemed unable to mount a resistance, another Electoral
College loss should trigger an unrelenting and forceful democracy
movement against the Electoral College and other institutional chains
on the right to know, vote and participate.

There are many outside the Obama movement who assert that the
candidate is "not progressive enough," that Obama will be co-opted as
a new face for American interventionism, that, in any event, real
change cannot be achieved from the top down.

These criticisms are correct. But in the end, they miss the larger point.

Most of us want President Obama to withdraw troops from Iraq more
rapidly than in 16 months. But it is important that Obama's position
is shared by Iraq's prime minister and the vast majority of both our
peoples. The Iraqi regime, pressured by its own people, has rejected
the White House and McCain's refusal to adopt a timetable.

The real problem with Obama's position on Iraq is his adherence to
the outmoded Baker-Hamilton proposal to leave thousands of American
troops behind for training, advising and ill-defined
"counterterrorism" operations. Obama should be pressured to
reconsider this recipe for a low-visibility counterinsurgency quagmire.

On Iran, Obama has usefully emphasized diplomacy as the only path to
manage the bilateral crisis and assure the possibility of orderly
withdrawal from Iraq. He should be pressed to resist any escalation.

On Afghanistan, Obama has proposed transferring 10,000 American
combat troops from Iraq, which means out of the frying pan, into the
fire. Pakistan could be Obama's Bay of Pigs, a debacle. On
Israel-Palestine, he will pursue diplomacy more aggressively, but
little more. Altogether, the counterinsurgencies in Iraq, Afghanistan
and Pakistan are likely to become a spreading global quagmire and a
human-rights nightmare, nullifying the funding prospects for
healthcare reform or other domestic initiatives.

In Latin America, Obama has been out of step and out of touch with
the winds of democratic change sweeping Latin America. His commitment
to fulfilling the United Nations anti-poverty goals, or to
eradicating sweatshops through a global living wage, is underwhelming
and­given his anti-terrorism wars­will be underfinanced.

And so on. The man will disappoint as well as inspire.

Once again, then, why support him by knocking on doors, sending
money, monitoring polling places, getting our hopes up? There are
three reasons that stand out in my mind. First, American
progressives, radicals and populists need to be part of the vast
Obama coalition, not perceived as negative do-nothings in the minds
of the young people and African-Americans at the center of the
organized campaign. It is not a "lesser evil" for anyone of my
generation's background to send an African-American Democrat to the
White House. Pressure from supporters of Obama is more effective than
pressure from critics who don't care much if he wins and won't lift a
finger to help him. Second, his court appointments will keep us from
a right-wing lock on social, economic and civil-liberties issues
during our lifetime. Third, we all can chew gum and walk at the same
time; that is, it should be no problem to vote for Obama and picket
his White House when justified.

Obama himself says he has solid progressive roots but that he intends
to campaign and govern from the center. (He has said he is neither a
"Scoop" Jackson Democrat nor a Tom Hayden Democrat.) That is a
challenge to rise up, organize and reshape the center, and to build a
climate of public opinion so intense that it becomes necessary to
redeploy from military quagmires, take on the unregulated
corporations and uncontrolled global warming and devote resources to
domestic priorities like healthcare, the green economy and inner-city
jobs for youth.

What is missing in the current equation is not a capable and
enlightened centrist but a progressive social movement on a scale
like those of the past.

The creative tension between large social movements and enlightened
Machiavellian leaders is the historical model that has produced the
most important reforms in the course of American history.

Mainstream political leaders will not move to the left of their own
base. There are no shortcuts to radical change without a powerful and
effective constituency organized from the bottom up. The next chapter
in Obama's new American story remains to be written, perhaps by the
most visionary of his own supporters.

His own movement will have to pull him toward full withdrawal from
Iraq or the regulation of the great financial power centers, instead
of waiting for him to lead. Already among his elite caste of
fund-raisers, there is more interest in his position on the
capital-gains tax than holding Halliburton accountable. And his "cast
of 300" national security advisers, according to The New York Times,
"fall well within centrist Democratic foreign policy thinking."

Progressives need to unite for Barack Obama but also
unite­organically at least, not in a top-down way­on issues like
peace, the environment, the economy, media reform, campaign finance
and equality like never before. The growing conflict today is between
democracy and empire, and the battlefronts are many and often
confusing. Even the Bush years have failed to unite American
progressives as effectively as occurred during Vietnam. There is no
reason to expect a President McCain to unify anything more than our
manic depression.

But there is the improbable hope that the movement set ablaze by the
Obama campaign will be enough to elect Obama and a more progressive
Congress in November, creating an explosion of rising expectations
for social movements­here and around the world­that President Obama
will be compelled to meet in 2009.

That is a moment to live and fight for.
--

Tom Hayden is a civil-rights and anti-war activist who served in the
California Legislature from 1982 to 2000 and currently serves on the
advisory board of Progressive Democrats of America.

.

Red Army Blues

[See URL for embedded links.]

The view: Red Army Blues

http://blogs.guardian.co.uk/film/2008/08/for_editors_the_view_red_army.html

This week's film blogs found a high-end portrait of the
Baader-Meinhof gang embroiled in a PR fiasco

August 22, 2008
by Danny Leigh

News arrives of trouble lapping at a forthcoming movie devoted to a
pivotal moment in modern German history. For once, however, the
blighted Valkyrie is off the hook - the problem child this time is
Der Baader Meinhof Komplex, a prestige account of the life of the Red
Army Faction, written and overseen by the producer of the much-lauded
Downfall, which despite a choice pedigree has blundered into the
roughest of PR waters.

As reported by David Hudson at Green Cine Daily, it's already
habitual for American studios nursing a clunker to skip the niceties
of screening the movie for the press, or to do so only with embargoes
in place to confine bad buzz. But the ante has been conclusively
upped by those responsible for Baader Meinhof, directed by veteran
Uli Edel. Prior to attending a German preview screening of the film
this week, invitees were first required to sign a contract barring
them from writing or even speaking about it afterwards until close to
the film's release date next month - with the penalty a fine of
€100,000 (the better part of £80,000) divided between the journalist
themselves and their outlet.

Absurdly heavy-handed and instantly redolent of
what-have-you-got-to-hide, it's tempting to think the whole thing
must have been conceived as a stunt to play on the severity with
which the German state responded to the early arsons and bank
robberies of the RAF; 100,000 marks being the sum that was placed on
each of the gang members' heads on the infamous Wanted posters issued in 1971.

And yet if so (quite apart from that idea's dubious taste), the
German press don't appear to have been let in on the joke - with the
national journalists' union DJV making a public protest, German
papers including the prominent Der Tagesspiegel and Süddeutsche
Zeitung blowing the whistle on the producers' antics (the latter have
a copy of the contract reproduced here), and Hudson quoting the
online journalist Rüdiger Suchsland as declaiming: "Obviously, Der
Baader Meinhof Komplex is a botched film. There's no other
explanation for [producers] Constantin's loss of control and
hysterical behavior. There's a fear that word of the poor quality of
the film will get out."

So, not quite the PR masterstroke. And it's a gaffe made stranger by
the apparently sturdy foundations on which Edel's film has been
built; while Valkyrie contained a kernel of risibility from the
get-go, everything about Der Baader Meinhof Komplex screams
impeccably high-end: the internationally-acclaimed precedent of
Downfall, an A-list cast (including The Lives of Others' Martina
Gedeck, Run Lola Run's Moritz Bliebtrau and Bruno Ganz essaying
doughy police chief Horst Herold) - and the source material of
journalist Stefan Aust's book on the gang (long out of print in the
UK but due to re-emerge when the film comes out here in the autumn)
outstanding in a field not untouched by the glib or partial.

Yet now, just weeks before its release, the project is, in Germany at
least, the subject of anger and ridicule. And if Rüdiger Suchsland is
right and the film proves to be a tank, then that's a shame for
reasons other than the fortunes of the producers and PR
functionaries. After all, despite their spectral hold over many
imaginations - revenants of a time when a gaggle of petty criminals,
magazine journalists and student cinematographers in crushed velvet
and stolen BMWs could all but unhinge an entire liberal democracy -
and various fragments of their story having appeared on screen
before, the goal remains open for a definitive portrait on film more
than 30 years after the disputed events at Stammheim Prison that left
Andreas Baader and two of the gang's other principals dead.

Of course, for all the rancour, the fiasco could yet prove to be a
mere false start. Yet even so, that still leaves the project tainted
by a bizarrely draconian display of commercial interests - quite the
irony, eh? Still, I'm sure Tom Cruise and Bryan Singer are grateful
for the breathing space.

.

Richie Havens - Nobody Left To Crown

Music Review:
Richie Havens - Nobody Left To Crown

http://blogcritics.org/archives/2008/08/15/195118.php

Written by Richard Marcus
Published August 15, 2008

It was while sitting in a second run theatre in the east end of
Toronto, Ontario that I first saw Richie Havens perform. In 1977 I
was sixteen and the Woodstock Music Festival had taken place eight
years earlier, but the movie of the event extended its life for
people like me who had no interest in the pop culture of the mid
seventies. In the days before punk hit Canada the music and the
politics of the late sixties seemed far more alive then anything our
own time had to offer.

Which explains why on that Friday night there were about forty of us
sitting spread out through the Roxy Cinema, squinting through the
haze produced by the smoke from about that many nickel bags of
Mexican pot at a so-so print of Woodstock: Three Days Of Peace And
Music. Hearing the soundtrack on my brother's cheap stereo at home
hadn't prepared me for seeing the force of nature that was Richie
Havens playing guitar and singing on the screen. With the camera
shooting him in a tight close-up, Richie filled the screen, and you
could see individual rivulets of sweat running down his face as he
curled his body around the guitar he was strumming and poured out his
soul into a microphone.

Although there were many other firsts in terms of seeing people
perform that night, Richie Havens' performance was the one that left
the most indelible impression on me. The intensity that he played
with and the incredible passion that was being transmitted by this
one man to the thousands of people in the audience on screen, and to
us in the old and tacky theatre helped make him far more memorable
than some of his more famous contemporaries.

It's 2008 now and I own a DVD copy of the director's cut of Woodstock
as a memento of my own youth, and as a historical record of the event
itself. While some of the musicians have become history, and some of
the music sounds dated, Richie Havens has not been swallowed up by
time, and as can be told by listening to his latest release on the
Verve Forecast label, Nobody Left To Crown, his music is as powerful
and relevant as it ever was.

There aren't too many people left from the Woodstock era with the
moral authority to be singing about the state of the world anymore.
They've either left the world, or been co-opted by the very
establishment they were supposedly so intent upon changing. Musically
many of them have become vapid and are content to play out their
remaining years as near caricatures of their former selves. So the
performer who has adhered to his ideals for the last forty years and
continues to express them through his music like Richie Havens does
is a rarity.

Six of the thirteen songs on Nobody Left To Crown are new originals
that Mr. Havens has written for this disc, while the seven covers are
ones that speak to either issues of the day or express an idea that
he cares passionately about. That last bit might be a tad redundant
as I can't think of Richie Havens singing a song if he wasn't able to
make an emotional commitment of some kind to it. Interestingly enough
one of the covers dates back to the Woodstock era, Pete Townshend's
"Won't Get Fooled Again", and Havens' interpretation of it keeps it
as pertinent today as it was then.

That's the thing about Nobody Left To Crown that's important to know.
Richie Havens may be a figure some of you think of as belonging to a
time in the past, but that is unfair to the man and his music. None
of these songs are exercises in nostalgia, nor is the disc some sort
of sixties revival thing. This recording has been made for today's
world, and the messages it has to impart are relevant to what is
going on around us. Listen to the second song on the disc, "Say It
Isn't So" and you'll hear what I mean.

"Say it isn't so/ That the world must choose again/ Who is foe and
who is friend". It could be a commentary on any of the numerous wars
that are ongoing in the world today, or it could also be about how
our society seems to demand an us and a them in almost every
circumstance. We are always searching out somebody to blame for the
things that are wrong in our lives. It could be the poor people for
being a drag on the economy because we have to pay taxes to make sure
they get their welfare, the immigrants who steal all the good jobs,
or the minority that got the job and not you. It's our choice whether
we live a life of perpetual wars or "realize we are all the same" in
the important ways, in the ways that truly matter.

Whether it's his cover of Jackson Brown's "Lives In The Balance"
questioning America's friends of convenience in the world, or the
title track, Richie's own "Nobody Left To Crown", where he questions
the way America elects its leaders, he's showing us what lies beneath
the surface sheen of the twenty-four hours of non-stop distraction we
call a culture that diverts attention away from the real problems in
the world. The more time people spend talking about their favourite
celebrity, or reading about their most recent affairs, the less they
spend concerned with the state of the world around them. Who cares if
the infant mortality rate in America is as high as it is in some
developing nations when you can look at candid pictures of some
star's boob job?

He doesn't say any of these things directly, he's too good a song
writer for that. Instead he points us in certain directions in the
hopes that we will think for ourselves and reach our own conclusions.
One of the ways he has of making us listen is his voice. While it
might have lost a little power over the years, it's expressive
qualities and the sense of urgency he can impart with it are still
more then sufficient to grab our attention and hold it.

The same goes for the music, as Havens still plays his guitar with
the staccato strumming style that made him famous and that has pushed
many a song into orbit. However. this isn't just a solo recording as
he's accompanied at various times by everything from a cello to the
twenty-six string mohan veena played by Harry Manx. While an exotic
instrument like either of the two just mentioned can be overused to
the point where they become the focal point of a song, in the case of
Nobody Left To Crown the instruments are used perfectly to accent
whichever song they are being used in. Either the sitar-like mohan
veena will silver in the background of one song or the cello will
gently interject a counterpoint to the rhythm of another. All in all
these are beautifully crafted arrangements, whether they are Richie
Havens' originals or covers of another person's work.

There's something of the prophet about Richie Havens, not that he
makes any predictions with his songs, but rather the fact that
something about him suggests that not only can he see things in a way
that not many of us can, he can also tell us about them. For more
then forty years Richie Havens has been singing impassioned pleas
that we examine the lives we are leading and make some decisions
about them. Nothing Left To Crown shows that as a performer and a
composer he continues to be a musical force to be reckoned with.

.

40 years ago, the whole world was watching

40 years ago, the whole world was watching

http://www.dailyherald.com/story/?id=228804

Suburbanites reflect on turbulent 1968 Democratic National Convention

8/20/2008
By Marni Pyke | Daily Herald Staff

Marty Gleason doesn't go to political conventions anymore.

"They're awfully dull, and nothing happens," the 77-year-old DuPage
resident said.

Of course, as a key player for Eugene McCarthy's fateful campaign
during the 1968 Democratic Convention in Chicago, Gleason's bar is set high.

1968. Forty years later, it still makes people wince.

Mayor Richard J. Daley was spoiling for a fight. Vietnam War
opponents were equally determined to make some noise. Democrats were
searching for a leader with the abdication of Lyndon Johnson and
assassination of Robert Kennedy.

Instead of positive spin, chaos reigned in the International
Amphitheatre and out on the streets as police clubbed protesters in
Grant Park and along Michigan Avenue.

"It was the only instance in my Roman Catholic life that I've
considered suicide," Gleason said, straight-faced.

Four decades after the fiasco that propelled Hubert Humphrey to a
showdown he couldn't win with Richard Nixon, we talked to five
suburbanites who experienced history that hot week in August: a
political organizer, two cops, a peace advocate and someone in the
wrong place at the wrong time.

Innocent bystander

Freelance photographer Gerry Souter had just returned from an
out-of-town assignment Tuesday, Aug. 27, 1968, the second day of the
Democratic Convention.

He and his wife, Janet, decided to catch the Bob Dylan flick "Don't
Look Back" at Piper's Alley, in the Old Town neighborhood.

On their way home, the couple drove east on North Avenue by Lincoln
Park toward Lake Shore Drive in their Peugeot 403.

Abruptly, "we saw the flashing lights and all the people, the cop
cars and the paddy wagon," Souter recalled.

Threats of violence to his beloved city caused Daley to ramp up
security with 6,000 regular Army troops, 6,000 Illinois National
Guardsmen and about 12,000 Chicago police officers armed and ready.
Clashes between law enforcement and the thousands of anti-war
protesters, hippies and yippies assembled for the event became
inevitable, especially when Daley ordered the parks cleared at 11
p.m. each day.

As a photojournalist, Souter had no illusions about the tactics of
Chicago police.

"I wanted to stay clear of it, to get away as fast as I can," he
said. "They'd fired tear gas because the crowd was throwing things
like rocks and bags of feces.

"Suddenly, this great cloud of gas rolled over the car."

As Janet cranked up the windows, Gerry slammed the sunroof shut so
firmly the metal handle broke and cut his hand.

With blood everywhere, Souter drove at a crawl, eventually reaching
the Outer Drive.

As the Peugeot pulled away, the effects of the tear gas were
everywhere. "I saw cars pulled over to the side; there was one
Cadillac with an elderly couple getting rid of their evening meal."

Souter, now a 67-year-old author who lives in Arlington Heights,
remembers seeing colleagues being beaten up on television that week.

"That was the spooky part, seeing people you know getting pushed
around," he said. "Those were interesting times."

Police presence

Retired Elmhurst Police Chief Bill Payne has seen a lot of crime and
violence in his 98 years. But the '68 convention, when he was chief
inspector at Chicago police headquarters at 11th and State streets,
still stands out in his memory.

"It was a busy time," Payne recalled. "We worked 12-hour days."

The intense law enforcement presence was crucial, Payne explained,
after threats of anarchy and boasts about tipping over squad cars by
anti-war agitators.

"We weren't worried," he said. "We figured we could handle it."

But Ed Becht, then a 27-year-old rookie cop, remembers frightening
moments when someone yelled on a bullhorn that members of the Black
Panthers were carrying automatic weapons or people screamed "kill the pigs."

Becht, now an Oak Brook executive, was in the thick of it and trying
to keep his head while mobs smashed windows and looted.

"I never met a policeman who went out of the way to harm someone,"
Becht said. "From my perspective, if the crowd had listened to orders
and obeyed the law, there would have been no confrontation. The crowd
was not an orderly crowd."

While Becht blames "professional agitators" in the crowd for stirring
up emotions, he also criticized his former boss, Mayor Daley.

"Twenty men can't contain 20,000 people," he said. "We were not
properly trained for riot control."

The mayor's order to clear Grant and Lincoln parks of demonstrators
at 11 p.m. was something that stirred up a hornet's nest, Becht
believes, and a policy that "to a man we thought was idiocy."

"It was a matter of male ego, in my opinion," he said. "If Daley had
not elected to clear out the parks at 11 p.m., you wouldn't have had
a street fight at the convention."

At around Thanksgiving 1968, Becht received a phone call from the
police station. Don't come to work, they told him. You've been
suspended on charges of excessive force.

In spring 1969, Becht was found innocent by a jury. He returned to
the force but it wasn't the same as before. He took a job with an air
freight company he'd worked for during his suspension. Now he owns
the company, Bellair Express.

He's moved on but still remembers the sting of those times.

"It dehumanized the police," Becht said.

The organizer

When Democratic power broker Steven A. Mitchell asked Marty Gleason
to be deputy convention manager for Minnesota Sen. Eugene McCarthy,
Gleason needed to be persuaded.

Despite his love of politics, Gleason knew the demands of a
convention. He was going through a divorce; working hard at the
family business, Gleason Cranes; and was still recovering from a 1966
campaign for the state Senate.

But the Joliet native was swayed by his admiration of McCarthy and
his hope of reforming the tight control party bosses such as Daley
held over convention proceedings.

"I wanted change in the party," he said.

One night at dinner, McCarthy put his hands on Gleason's shoulders
and pronounced him deputy convention manager. "I told him, 'Senator,
I just came here to be appointed, not ordained,'" Gleason recalled.

His myriad duties included handling the fresh-faced McCarthy volunteers.

"They voted me the only guy they trusted over 30," he said.

Whether longhair kids from nowhere or blue blood trust-fund heirs,
they had one common cause - stopping the war in Vietnam.

"The war being fought now doesn't have a draft associated with it,"
Gleason said. "It's the draft that made all the difference. These
people had friends in Vietnam."

As the convention descended into discord inside the amphitheater and
chaos outside, Gleason found himself picking up the pieces.

When delegates defeated a proposal for a withdrawal from Vietnam, one
of the young McCarthy backers collapsed in his arms. "She broke
down," he recalled. "It was a close to a nervous breakdown. Those
kids were distraught."

With convention experiences running the gamut from rubbing shoulders
with celebrities Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward to bailing McCarthy
volunteers out of jail at 1 in the morning, Gleason summed it up as
"like rolling over Niagara Falls in a barrel."

The peace advocate

Bernie Kleina was hoping to talk about peace, but he got war on Aug. 28, 1968.

A former Catholic priest and civil rights activist who had marched
with the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., he came to Grant Park to
participate in anti-war rallies.

"The people at the rally felt very strongly about what the war was
doing to the people of Vietnam but also to the people of this
country," Kleina said.

From atop a platform, the amateur photographer was able to snap
shots of the crowd and watch as police started to move in.

"The police formed a V-wedge through the middle of the crowd. No one
had any idea they were coming through. They were just listening to
the speakers," Kleina recalled.

"I think I was shocked the city and state would go to such extremes
to stop what was for the most part a peaceful organization."

As proceedings grew more violent, Kleina looked for a way out and
found Michigan Avenue blocked as tear gas started to flow.

"It was painful and made you cry," Kleina remembered. "But I didn't
get the brunt of it."

The tear gas and beating of protesters brought the Democratic
convention debacle to its denouement.

For Kleina, who lives in Wheaton and is executive director of the
HOPE Fair Housing Center organization, it was a watershed moment.

"At the end of the day, I felt very demoralized," he said, "and felt
change was much further off than I expected. I think there were more
tears in my eyes because of what I saw than what the mace caused."

.

The whole world is still watching [Project 1968]

The whole world is still watching

http://www.bhamweekly.com/article.php?article_id=00923

Project 1968 provides a dramatic re-imagining of that year's
Democratic Convention

By: Courtney Haden

As the orchestrated pageantry of the 2008 Democratic Convention
nears, it's worth going back 40 years to examine a convention where
chaos took center stage and the pageantry was in the streets. Author
and playwright Laura Axelrod, a Cullman resident and self-styled
political agnostic, takes that trip every day online in an episodic
narrative she calls a "docu-novel", adapted for the web from a stage
play she began writing in 2004. Project 1968 recounts the events of
that pivotal year through the experiences of two young women, Amy and
Janine, who wind up in Chicago that fateful week.

BIRMINGHAM WEEKLY: What interests you so about this event that took
place before you were even born?

LAURA AXELROD: Everything came to a head in '68. There was a
tremendous sense of empowerment, that people had a say in government,
in how people lived their lives. They wanted to do things
differently. It was an idealistic time, and I think people were
trying to live as authentically as possible, according to their values...

Everything crested and then fell apart because there were mistakes
that were made that led to the chaos of the Chicago convention. I
look at the rhetoric of the Yippies [Youth International Party
radical activists] now and I think, could any of that have played out
now? And I think people would disappear, quite frankly. [laughs]

A lot of the Eisenhower Commission reports I read in Austin at the
Lyndon Baines Johnson Presidential Library. They have a couple of
boxes that are just filled with people's experiences at the
convention ­ they were interviewed ­ and some of them are brutal.
They took it from all different sides; people who were delegates,
people who were just visiting from Europe, to protesters ­ really
powerful stuff.

BW: At what point did you decide to change this story from the small
focus of the stage to the broader panorama of a docu-novel?

LA: It was an interesting idea for a couple of reasons. One, American
history should belong to everybody; why open it up just for people
who can afford a ticket to a play? The second thing was the idea of
blending fact with fiction to document my story. Based on my
research, I think there are a lot of books out there that're
historically inaccurate...

To map this out daily, it's like these characters are alive, so as I
live my day, I think about how they're living their day.

BW: So, there are aspects of your own personality in Amy and Janine?

LA: Yeah. Janine reminds me of how I was back when I was politically
active in my college years. She's 18 and hopefully a little more
naïve than I was.

BW: The last time you voted was the last time you attended a
political convention.

LA: The first and the last time. I was a campaign worker for Jerry
Brown [in 1992]. It was a cool experience to go to a convention like
that, but to go as the unwanted ­ I mean, the attitude was, 'You're
ruining our convention, you're ruining our party, go away.' We were
really idealistic, but also artistic, so when we weren't on the
convention floor, we were trading buttons.

BW: Why should we even have conventions anymore?

LA: '68 had all the markings of being out of control. [Chicago mayor]
Richard Daley was trying to control every aspect of the convention
and I think they learned a lesson there. That things have to be
presentable, to make it seem like the party is presidential. If they
can't control their own convention, how're they going to deal with the country?

Lester Maddox [segregationist governor of Georgia] had entered the
nominating process and you get the feeling that the leadership of the
Democratic party had no idea how to bring everybody back in line.
When I look at the news these days, it's like, everybody has to get
their ducks in a row, everybody has to fall into place.

BW: And yet Obama's people think it's a good idea to offer Hillary
Clinton a roll call vote, which would seem to fly in the face of the
idea that disharmony makes bad TV.

LA: The gut feeling I have is that a lot of women felt left out of
the process and are really angry. Because of the sexism. From what
I've looked at in the media, it's hard to ignore that...

That's part of the reason for Project 1968, to look at the role of
women and how women's voices really aren't heard in the political
process. Instead, we wind up talking about what a candidate wore, or
her marriage...

I'm not sure who I support these days. Probably Eugene McCarthy [laughs]...
I personally say that this is a demoralized society. I heard that on
a radio show and I believe that to be true. People just shrug and
say, well, you can't fight City Hall... I wonder why the Baby Boomers
didn't teach my generation ­ I'm probably effectively Generation X ­
how to become politically active, how to represent ourselves in
politics. Maybe it had something to do with '68.

BW: Have you thought about a story arc for your characters beyond 1968?

LA: Yeah, I pretty much have mapped them out through 1978. There may
be a leap in the story at some point. The choices they make now [in
1968] determine how they live the rest of their lives.

BW: Much as the political choices made in 1968 still have
ramifications far beyond that year.

LA: Right. Yes...
I'm trying not to let 1968 take over too much of my personal life.
It's hard to explain to people that what happened 40 years ago, to me
is currently happening, so it's kind of a weird alienation from the present.
--

The day-by-day experiences of Amy and Janine, replete with vintage
reportage from national papers and new interviews conducted by Laura
Axelrod, are yours to explore at www.project1968.com.
--

Courtney Haden is a Birmingham Weekly columnist. Write to
courtney@bhamweekly.com

.

Racial, political tensions came to a head in 1968

Boiling Point:
Racial, political tensions came to a head in 1968

http://www.stjoenews.net/news/2008/aug/24/boiling-point-racial-political-tensions-came-head-/?local

40 years later, local residents recall gravity of convention

by Joe Blumberg
Sunday, August 24, 2008

The 1968 Democratic Convention perhaps marked the climax of the
Sixties revolutionary movement in America.

Divergent groups ­ Yippies, hippies, the National Mobilization to End
the War in Vietnam, anti-war Catholics, civil rights activists and
Black Panthers ­ converged en masse on Chicago 40 years ago this
week. They hoped to force the Democrats into a platform to end the
war in Vietnam and to prevent the nomination of Hubert H. Humphrey
for president.

Local residents who went to Chicago still recall the gravity of those
days, how that convention led to Richard Nixon's presidency, and how
convention politics have never been the same.

"Pretty much any more it's all wrapped up before the convention. It's
been trivialized from deciding the issues to a television show," said
Jim Farley, of Platte City, Mo., who was a delegate at the 1968
convention. "To me, it's not nearly as much fun as it used to be."

Establishment authorities beat the protestors with politics inside
the convention and with brute force outside.

The loss stung the protesting factions, and some of their leaders
were charged with inciting a riot in the "Chicago 7" trial. (They
were found innocent on appeal.) It could be argued that after
Chicago, the counterculture traded in its grand societal hopes for
its own worst self-indulgent aspects ­ drugs, sex and rock 'n' roll.

Before the convention, President Lyndon B. Johnson, a Democrat, had
suffered a swift fall from grace.

Despite passing the Civil Rights Act in 1964, he couldn't escape the
fury over Vietnam. He barely won the primary in New Hampshire, and
when Robert F. Kennedy joined the race, President Johnson dropped out.

Only 13 states held primaries in those days, so most delegates voted
with the will of the party establishment ­ similar to today's
superdelegates. Vice President Humphrey, despite not participating in
any primaries, held a huge number of delegates.

But RFK did well in the primaries, and his momentum-building victory
in California, along with his good looks and last name, suggested
that he could right the country's wrongs. He wouldn't get the chance.
He was assassinated just after giving his victory speech in California.

"He was coming on strong," Mr. Farley said of RFK. "Whether or not he
would've been nominated is still a big question."

The convention turned into a referendum on Vietnam. The Missouri
delegation held a caucus at the convention to determine its stance on the war.

Gov. Warren Hearnes supported the "majority report" ­ to stay the
course in Vietnam ­ but U.S. Sen. Stuart Symington did his best to
sway the 60 delegates.

"It was the most eloquent speech I ever heard," Mr. Farley said of
Mr. Symington's argument for withdrawal. "He asked, 'What do we win
if we win, and what do we lose if we get out?'"

Still, the Missouri delegates voted 50-10 for the majority report.
The vote was even more lopsided for president. Missouri voted 56 for
Mr. Humphrey and 3½ for anti-war candidate Eugene McCarthy, according
to News-Press archives.

Most states felt the same, and Mr. Humphrey won the nomination on the
first ballot, ending all the drama and infighting.

Outside the International Amphitheatre, the drama was still unfolding.

Chicago Mayor Richard J. Daley, the notorious Democratic machine
boss, would tolerate nothing from the protestors. He bulletproofed
the doors to the convention and surrounded the hall with a barb-wire fence.

Against 10,000 to 15,000 protestors, Mr. Daley launched a massive
counter-protest.

The Missouri delegation stayed downtown, perhaps five miles away from
the convention in south Chicago. The Missourians were largely
shielded from the protests, and Mr. Farley and then-News-Press
reporter Bob Slater agreed that they might not have even known the
riots were going on if not for TV coverage.

For about a mile along the route to the convention hall, "hundreds
and hundreds of children stood on porches, along sidewalks and even
in the street, waving small American flags and cheering the
visitors," Mr. Slater wrote in one of his articles from the convention.

Mr. Slater still has a "We Love Mayor Daley" sign from the counter-protest.

Remembering the scene in an interview last week, Mr. Slater said:
"You could walk the streets of Chicago at 3 a.m. and feel safe
because they had a cop on every corner ... It was almost like you
were in another country. There was concertina wire, barricades and
military jeeps in downtown Chicago."

But Mr. Slater's news accounts and his thoughts today indicate that
he felt the show of force was necessary.

He wrote of an orderly protest on Tuesday, early in the convention.
"Catholic nuns and mini-skirted girls ­ along with some men who
generally needed haircuts ­ marched side-by-side in one of the
'peace' demonstrations here."

Mr. Daley mobilized 12,000 police, at least 6,000 National Guard
troops and perhaps 1,000 U.S. Secret Service agents, according to the
Chicago Tribune and NPR. Dubbed "Daley's storm troopers," the armed
authorities didn't seem swayed by the protestors' chants that "the
whole world is watching."

After three nights of violence with police in Lincoln and Grant
parks, on Wednesday the thousands-strong crowd attempted to march to
the convention despite Mr. Daly having denied a permit, according to
several news accounts.

That "Battle of Michigan Avenue" turned into a bloody spectacle
during what was supposed to be a high point of American democracy. By
some accounts, the police forced tear gas onto the marching
protestors, then blocked them from behind and beat them as they
scrambled to escape. Police also beat bystanders, reporters and medics.

Mr. Slater recalls the protestors' actions justifying the police response.

"They were throwing bottles of urine and feces at the police," Mr.
Slater said. "There were some acts of violence that were unnecessary,
but the police overall did a very good job."

But Mr. Farley said the violence destroyed the Democratic Party's
image going into the November election. Mr. Nixon defeated Mr.
Humphrey by less than 1 percent of the popular vote.

"Had they handled the riots differently, we might've had a different
result," Mr. Farley said. "It made the party leadership look very bad."

Dick Senecal, of Atchison, Kan., attended the convention as an
alternate delegate.

"It was strenuous times," Mr. Senecal recalled. "A lot of people just
didn't know where we were going and what we were going to do."

On Thursday, the final day in Chicago, the convention showed a film
honoring RFK. With the lights out, the emotional crowd broke out
singing "The Battle Hymn of the Republic," Mr. Slater said.

"Of the five conventions I had the opportunity to cover, it was
certainly the most emotional," Mr. Slater said.
--

Joe Blumberg can be reached at joeblumberg@npgco.com.

.

40 years later, another convention amid war

40 years later, another convention amid war

http://www.star-telegram.com/elections/story/856058.html

By ANNA M. TINSLEY and JOHN MORITZ
atinsley@star-telegram.com
Aug. 24, 2008

It was meant to be a moment of unity in a turbulent year.

Dealing with the loss of civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr.
and Democratic presidential hopeful Robert Kennedy ­ as well as anger
and uncertainty over the Vietnam War and the draft ­ Democrats packed
their bags and headed to Chicago in 1968 to choose their presidential nominee.

So did hippies, yippies and protesters who wanted to make their
voices heard, drawing thousands of police officers, National
Guardsmen and federal troops.

Over the next four days, the national convention turned into a
free-for-all, with political battles playing out inside over rules
and delegate votes and violence spilling over outside between
protesters and law enforcement.

"I had a sinking feeling, like this is not my country," said former
House Speaker Jim Wright, then a delegate from Fort Worth. "This is
not America, and this is not what I'm working on and for.

"I would hope and pray that it wouldn't happen again."

Democrats kick off their 2008 national convention Monday with some
undeniable parallels to the Chicago convention.

It comes four decades after a Texan in the White House, Lyndon Baines
Johnson, was serving his last year in office. Fellow Texan George W.
Bush is now wrapping up his final year as commander in chief.

Bitter fights at the time erupted over whether Johnson's vice
president, Hubert Humphrey, or peace candidate Sen. Eugene McCarthy
should get the nomination. This year, there was an epic, months-long
primary battle between two historic candidates, Barack Obama and
Hillary Clinton.

Protesters unhappy over the Vietnam War will be replaced by those
opposed to the war in Iraq.

The formal nomination of Obama is scheduled Wednesday, on what would
have been LBJ's 100th birthday.

Local delegates
Jim Wright

Wright, then 45, was a U.S. House member who was supporting Hubert Humphrey.

A key issue for Texas delegates was a proposal to abolish the rule
that required a state's delegation to vote for the candidate backed
by the majority of the group.

Some delegates who supported other candidates were in the delegation
because leaders believed that all the votes would go to Humphrey.

"It created a tense situation," said the man who later became House
speaker. "I talked to them and said, 'Rather than . . . creating a
big hullabaloo in Texas, why don't you keep your word and voluntarily
say you had that agreement and are going to stick by it.' That's
exactly what happened."

Art Brender

Brender went to Chicago to challenge the political system.

A recent 22-year-old graduate from the University of Texas, he hoped
to gain a delegate seat supporting McCarthy. As soon as the Dallas
man ­ who later became an attorney and executive director of the
Tarrant County Democratic Party ­ arrived in Chicago, he got to work.

"We were getting handbills out about the unfairness of what was going
on with the Texas delegation," Brender said. "We were trying to . . .
get [delegates] to include at least a proportionate share of McCarthy
delegates."

That vote failed early one morning, after Brender had left for the
night. The next day, on his way back to the convention, "it looked
like pictures of an occupied war zone," he said. "The National Guard
was surrounding the park, and lots of angry people were there."

Dee Kelly Sr.

Kelly was a 38-year-old Fort Worth attorney among those chosen by
Texas Gov. John Connally in case there was a chance to offer Connally
up as a compromise candidate.

"I was a commie delegate," joked Kelly, who has not voted for a
Democratic presidential candidate since LBJ. "We thought Gov.
Connally would be a possible compromise choice for president. He
wound up supporting Humphrey, and we all followed his lead."

Instead of witnessing Connally make history, they watched protesters,
police and the ensuing violence, much from Kelly's hotel window.

"At the convention, we began to see the resurgence of Republicans in
the country," he said. "I think that was one of the turning points."

James R. Peipert

Peipert, then 25, was an Associated Press reporter assigned to help
cover any street disturbances at the convention.

The night before the convention, he was in Lincoln Park when police
announced a curfew would be imposed at the park. Some demonstrators
were taunting police, and someone flicked a lighted cigarette that
hit an officer's arm.

"He got really ticked off and started whaling into the group," he
said. "It unraveled from there."

Peipert became part of the story when an officer began hitting him
with his nightstick, an image captured in a photo published in a
Chicago newspaper.

"I said, 'Press. Press,' " said Peipert, who admits his media
credentials were in his pocket and not around his neck. "I think that
just made him madder."

Peipert retired from the Star-Telegram this year after 22 years.
--

ANNA M. TINSLEY, 817-390-7610 JOHN MORITZ, 512-476-4294

.

1968 to 2008: We Must Not Screw This Up

1968 to 2008: We Must Not Screw This Up

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/beth-arnold/1968-to-2008-we-must-not_b_120940.html

Posted August 24, 2008
Beth Arnold


Forty years ago my family was taking its annual vacation, which in
the summer of 1968 was a trip to the Democratic National Convention,
where my father was an Arkansas delegate. We loaded up our station
wagon, as we always did for our summer road trips across the USA, and
my parents, Bill and Bobbye, drove us from Batesville, Arkansas to
Chicago. Once there, we checked into the Palmer House, which we made
our headquarters to enjoy the city, attend the convention, and stay
out of the way of the violent clashes between protestors and police.
Bill and Bobbye weren't going to let their children get close enough
to get their heads bashed in. We were there to elect and support the
next Democratic presidential nominee and have some fun.

We saw some action in Lincoln Park from the safety of our car. We
once had to evacuate the hotel because of a stink bomb, but like
everyone else across the country, we watched most of the juicy
coverage on TV. I wore Hubert H. Humphrey paper dresses and boater
hats and anything else the campaign was selling that was groovy and
in. Humphrey was a progressive politician for his time, a great
advocate of human and civil rights. I was proud to do it. He was my
father's man.

Being a natural-born bomb-thrower myself, I recognize the temptation
and even the need for the shake-up of our country that existed then.
Later, I became more involved. I voted for George McGovern in my
first election and wore a bracelet for an American soldier MIA in
Vietnam for years. But, as we all now know, those Chicago
demonstrations by the hippies, Yippies, SDS, and Black Panthers
members effectively assured the narrow election of Richard Nixon
rather than prevented it.

So the worm turns, and I recognize the much-needed shake-up of our
country at this moment in our history. Who doesn't? We've sunk to the
bottom of the national and international barrel under George W.
Bush's presidency. But forty years after that important 1968
Democratic Convention, it's possible that we wouldn't have Obama's
highly charged candidacy without the destructive bungling and terror
of the Bush administration's last eight years.

This election cycle is a defining moment for the Democratic Party and
a clarion call for our country. This change that we require is a
180-degree turn, and Barack Obama's leadership is the first true
movement into the 21st Century and its new politics that put us back
on track and in a global leadership position. We must not screw this
up--or where will we be?

To Hillary Clinton's diehard supporters: If you truly want to see
women uplifted and put in the positions where they should be, let go
of the past and embrace the future of Obama's presidency. We
Democrats (and Independents) are truly lucky to have such a
candidate, who can nimbly beat John McCain if we all stand together.

To the Democratic Party and its members: Please learn to speak the
language of your brothers and sisters who live across this wide
expanse of country that's ours, red state or blue. We aren't alike.
So what? Embrace our diversity. Be inclusive. Be true to the beliefs
you say you have for the tired, hungry, and poor -- and understand
their point of view. Put yourself in their place and where they're
coming from. Don't intellectualize yourselves out of the circle of
most American's lives -- just because you think you know better.

My father was a Yellow Dog Democrat, and he was extremely proud of
that. He was an uncommon man who listened to, understood, and showed
respect to common men no matter what they did. He gave them dignity,
and this is our job too.

We must open our hearts and minds to embrace one another. Communicate
with one another -- and take this power away from the Republicans who
trick voters into thinking they'll do the best they can for them,
when what they'll really do is enrich the corporate and deep pockets
over these voters every time.

I went to a Democratic get-together in Paris and the moderator was a
young man who obviously loved politics. But I was disturbed by the
fact that he didn't seem to know his own party. He didn't know who
his party was before the Reagan Democrats got stolen away. This smart
moderator asked if there were any conservatives in the Democratic Party.

There were plenty. We just forgot how to communicate with them. To
speak the same language. To connect with one another. Let's remember
before it's too late.

Let's shake the Democratic rafters in 2008 -- and not let there be a
repeat of 40 years ago.
--

Beth Arnold lives and writes in Paris. To see more of her work, check
out www.betharnold.com.

.

Recalling Chicago: An unconventional convention

[3 articles]

A young reporter's perspective

http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/local/chi-1968-mullenaug24,0,2990487.story

By William Mullen | Tribune staff reporter
August 24, 2008

In this essay, Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter William Mullen recalls
August 1968:

Forty years ago, when I was a 23-year-old rookie Tribune reporter
eager to get assigned to some part of the 1968 Democratic National
Convention, the only part I was given was to spy on a church camp on
the shores of Wisconsin's Lake Geneva.

The Tribune had received a tip that a pacifist Quaker-sponsored
interfaith peace conference in Wisconsin was actually a training camp
for radical street fighters intent on disrupting the convention.

The assistant city editor who was ordered to assign a reporter to
"infiltrate" the Aug. 4-11 conference must have seen the absurdity of
the idea, since he sent me, his most junior reporter, ignoring every
argument I could muster why I shouldn't do it.

Going was easy. I simply registered and paid the fee.

Being there was not so easy. I was so embarrassed that I barely spoke
to anyone.. Each night I slipped away, walking a mile to a phone
booth to call the paper.

The Quaker-run workshops were tinged with faith and intellectual
ferment, but none dealt with the upcoming convention. In fact,
nothing newsworthy happened until the final general session. Jesse
Jackson, then rising to national fame, appeared with two young black
radicals from Chicago.

Jackson lectured on black anger following Martin Luther King Jr.'s
murder. Then he turned the floor over to one of the kids, who
launched into a lecture about the futility of talking. If we were
serious about helping achieve black power, he said, we should be
prepared to grab guns and go to the streets to fight.

An eerie silence fell over the hall as he finished, soon broken by
the sound of many in the audience weeping. It was not a good end to a
week of earnest talk about peace and resolution.

At least, I thought, I had a story. I got back to Chicago and briefed
a hard-boiled night city editor, telling him I had a "think piece"
about the conference as a microcosm of American life. He looked at me
like I was crazy.

"Give me a four-head," he told me, "I'll put it in the paper."

"Four-head" was a term for stories limited to three paragraphs. It
was his way of telling me to wise up.

I got the message again when the convention opened. Understandably,
veteran reporters got the assignments covering the convention. But I
wasn't even allowed to cover the street demonstrations. I was told to
stay in the newsroom to take obituaries and write up four-heads.

The street tussles between protesters and police soon became the
biggest story out of Chicago for the national media. The loyal
Tribune printed a terse daily account of the disorders, but mainly
stuck to traditional convention news.

My days off were Tuesday and Wednesday, the second and third days of
the convention. I roamed on my own among demonstrators in Grant Park
and along Michigan Avenue near the Hilton Hotel. I soon found myself
on the edge of a scuffle and a cloud of tear gas. Not seeing any
Tribune reporters present, I dutifully called the city desk.

"We don't need stuff from you," an assistant city editor growled.
"It's your day off. What the hell are you doing out there?"

With no obligations to the news desk for two days, I experienced the
full kaleidoscope of the unlikely events. Thousands of people milled
about. You'd catch glimpses of Ralph Abernathy here, Jean Genet
there, Phil Ochs sitting under a tree, skinny Dick Gregory in coveralls.

One night I stopped a police captain on a side street behind the
Hilton after I saw a crazed-looking, stocky, shirtless man jump out
of a car carrying a hunting bow and a quiver of arrows as he ran into
a building. The captain sent a couple of men to look. I waited half
an hour, out of the line of arrow shot. If they found him, I never found out.

The sound of thousands of shuffling feet along pavement during
marches sticks with me, and the bellicose chants of marchers bouncing
off the canyons of Loop buildings:

"Ho, Ho, Ho Chi Minh! Ho Chi Minh is going to win!" "Hey, hey, LBJ!
How many kids did you kill today?"

Most startling were the National Guardsmen and their
barbed-wire-rigged jeeps, pushing back crowds, setting up machine
guns, an image of a nation at war with itself.

I suppose I was dimly aware that I was witnessing history being made,
but the feeling I remember most is being unnerved. It felt like
events were spinning out of control, and there was no reliable source
of authority to calm things down.

For a year that unfolded so badly, it at least ended with a note of
promise. On Jan. 1, 1969, a new regime took over the Tribune, with
Clayton Kirkpatrick becoming editor. Years later he told me the shock
of the convention showed the Tribune hierarchy how much the paper had
lost touch with its audience and the tenor of the times. He knew he
had to make drastic changes.

Kirkpatrick told the Chicago Journalism Review in 1970 that he did
not ask job applicants about their politics.

"If they show some characteristics of being a hippie dissenter, well,
it shocks some of us old mossbacks a bit," he said, "but, at the same
time, if they are honest newspaper people, who are willing to make
the effort to go out and dig up information, bring it back and report
it fairly, then we want them."
--

wmullen@tribune.com

--------

Recalling Chicago: An unconventional convention

http://www.patriotledger.com/opinions/x594222429/ROY-HARRIS-After-Chicago-An-unconventional-convention

By Roy Harris
The Patriot Ledger
Posted Aug 25, 2008

QUINCY ­ Rookie reporters just out of college rarely get to cover
national political conventions. So 40 years ago, it was a happy
surprise when my employer of three months ­ the Los Angeles Times ­
asked me to fly east to Chicago to join its high-level team of
journalists following the 1968 Democratic National Convention.

It was the first of many surprises that August, as I found myself
immersed in the most outrageous political convention in American history.

Looking back, I can see some strategic sense in picking a 22-year-old
reporter just out of a Chicago-area journalism school, even if my
political coverage at the Daily Northwestern was limited to student
Senate meetings. I was to be responsible for following the "street
scene" outside the convention center ­ work the senior reporters
didn't want, believing that the real show was inside, where Vice
President Hubert Humphrey seemed sure to be nominated.

How much harm could I do keeping track of the ragtag thousands
planning to sleep in the parks and protest the Vietnam War? While
counterculture "leaders" proclaimed the creation of the Youth
International Party (Yippies for short), Chicago really had become a
magnet for ordinary kids disaffected by a war that threatened their
sense of American pride ­ and their personal futures.

Their movement had brought down President Lyndon Johnson, leaving
after one elected term. But anti-war Democrat Eugene McCarthy hadn't
gained enough traction, and Bobby Kennedy had been assassinated
moments after winning the California primary.

Surveying the pre-convention scene, I saw that the Yippies enraged
the Chicago police, as instruments of almost comically powerful Mayor
Richard J. Daley. Many cops had kids in Vietnam. But also, with their
city on global display, they viewed the mobs of unruly youngsters as
blots on Chicago's "orderly" image. Making no provision for the young
visitors worsened things, of course, for the park-dwellers and
city-dwellers alike.

Today, my minuscule part in the political drama is captured in five
yellowed Times front sections from Aug. 26 to Aug. 31, marking the
40th anniversary of what an official commission was to declare "police riots."

How interesting that this week's Democratic National Convention, in
Denver, will crown a senator from Chicago, Barack Obama, who was a
seven-year-old (and living in Indonesia) when my old story broke.

Dropping dimes

My first days in town involved meeting the park people, getting a
feel for the community, its leaders, and the demonstration plans. I
got acquainted, too, with the in-your-face style of Yippies Abbie
Hoffman, Jerry Rubin and Tom Hayden as they planned "street theater"
designed to provoke the police and federal troops on crowd-control
duty. (A year later, as members of the "Chicago Seven," the three
were given stiff sentences by a tough local judge ­ later overturned
by an appeals court.)

It was before cell phones. So I carried lots of dimes and regularly
called Times Chicago bureau chief Don Bruckner, who turned my
contributions into cogent prose.

Monday, Aug. 26, things got ugly, with the soon-to-be-familiar stench
of tear gas filling Lincoln Park. (The police, of course, wore gas
masks.) Announcing their intentions through bullhorns and swinging
their clubs, they ousted 1,500 young people ­ who, of course, had
nowhere else to go. I started running out of dimes.

Tuesday's L.A. Times front page led with a move to draft Sen. Edward
Kennedy as the candidate, instead of Humphrey ­ though Kennedy
quickly squelched it. But there at the bottom was the fruit of my
labor: "Demonstrators Gassed, Clubbed in Chicago."

As the confrontations continued the next day, several more Times
staffers left the convention center to join the intrepid band of
reporters on the streets.

"HUMPHREY NOMINATED ON 1ST BALLOT," the Times' banner proclaimed on
Thursday. Below it: "Chicago Police Charge, Club Crowd at Hotel." The
article duly reported that there were 100 people injured and 150
arrested, with one fellow Times reporter being in both categories,
taken into custody in a hotel lobby, and struck by two officers.
Finally, at the end of the story, my name made the paper. It wasn't
in a byline.

"Another Times reporter, Roy Harris Jr., was clubbed on the back by a
uniformed policeman who was chasing a group of demonstrators through
the Loop. Harris said he was not seriously injured, but that a Roman
Catholic priest who was running next to him was clubbed to the street
and severely beaten by several policemen."

I can picture it yet: the snarling officers so clearly angry at that
priest for taking the anti-war, and anti-CHICAGO side. Said another
headline: "Streets Filled With Screams ­ and Blood."

Lasting impact

With the wild convention finally over, I stayed in Illinois, leaving
the Times and starting graduate school. The next year I entered the
Army and was sent to Germany. But what I witnessed in Chicago had a
lasting impact. From Europe I saw in the 1969 Woodstock experience a
reflection of the spirit that many youthful Chicago demonstrators
wanted to create. In 1970, the Kent State shootings provoked much
more painful memories.

As a reporter for the Wall Street Journal, starting in 1971, I found
other stories that took me back to Chicago in my mind ­ including
grim reminders in Los Angeles, as I helped cover the 1991 race
rioting after the police beating of black motorist Rodney King, and,
later, the 1994 Northridge earthquake.

During my most recent project ­ producing a book on the Pulitzer
Prizes ­ I marveled at America's greatest team-based reporting, often
under extreme situations.

But for this convention, let's hope that the big story remains the
candidates within, rather than confrontations without.
--

Roy Harris lives in Hingham, and is the author of "Pulitzer's Gold:
Behind the Prize for Public Service Journalism" (University of
Missouri Press.) He is a senior editor at The Economist Group's
Boston-based CFO magazine.

--------

Rebellion and repression sure can ruin a party

http://www.crosscut.com/politics-government/17070/Rebellion+and+repression+sure+can+ruin+a+party/

By Bob Simmons
Aug 25, 2008

Forty years ago this week, a KNXT-TV camera crew and I were on the
run from the Chicago police. Three guys from Los Angeles running as
fast as we could with camera and sound gear, a jump ahead of the
night sticks. We were by no means the only targets, but the guys with
clubs were yelling, "Get the f***ing press!" and we were the effing
press they had in mind getting.

We ran into the Conrad Hilton Hotel and a hospitality suite
maintained by U.S. Sen. Eugene McCarthy, the anti-war Democratic
candidate for president. There was a doctor there to treat cuts and
bruises (we had none) and alcohol to lower the adrenalin (we had
some). Later, the police would crash the McCarthy rooms and beat up
some of his campaign staff, but for the time being it was a safe house.

The Hilton stood across the street from Grant Park, where we'd spent
the day filming violent demonstrations against the Vietnam War and
their violent suppression. Lines in the Grant Park War surged north
and south, and our five-and-a-half-foot news photographer, Cal Cape,
stood on a stool that raised him only slightly above the heads of the
combatants. With a 20-pound Auricon on his shoulder, one eye to the
eyepiece, the other roaming the landscape for incoming rocks,
bottles, or tear gas canisters, he made fine movies. Every few
minutes he calmly turned the step stool to face the other way. There
was news material in both directions. The thuggishness of one side
was surpassed only by the thuggishness of the other.

The "Yippies," the Youth International Party, threw whatever they
could find or devise, including heavy, unopened cans of fruit juice ­
the large economy size that can make a dent in your head ­ and
balloons filled with urine. Police fired tear gas canisters, and the
Yippies threw them back. They were aiming at the police, but there
seemed to be no great arms on that side. Much of what was thrown hit
reporters and photographers who were stuck in the middle.

A freelance shooter from Sacramento stood on the raised concrete
platform of a fountain, snapping still photos, until the police moved
in on him. Rather than order him down, the protectors of the people
grabbed his feet and yanked. He sprawled onto the concrete, gashing
his head open, and was hauled away to be booked or not booked.

This late in 1968, none of this was a surprise. Cape, soundman Paul
Hilton, and I had seen the rebellion/repression cycle build from the
Berkeley civil rights movement, through the growing bitterness of
anti-Vietnam War protests, to the uncontrolled hatefulness of the
Chicago convention.

Conjure this: The Democratic Party was the party of war, despised by
a huge, wildly activist, nihilist left. An imperial White House was
occupied by an increasingly bitter and isolated president, Lyndon
Johnson. The Democrats had chosen to convene (what were they
thinking?) in a city ruled by the last of the old-time, right-wing
Democratic bosses, Richard Daley, who had publicly upbraided his
police department for not having shot anyone during earlier riots.
North Vietnam was winning the war, and 300 American troops were
killed during the week of the convention. The presidential candidate,
poor Hubert Humphrey, was a very decent man stuck with the Johnson
war policies and was sick about it.

Martin Luther King, murdered. Riots in a hundred U.S. cities. Bobby
Kennedy, murdered. Democratic Party leaders screaming at each other
in public. Some who were watching thought the straps that held the
country together had all come undone and might never again be
securely fastened. I'd like to be more certain that we were wrong.

.

DVD Review: Chicago 10

[4 articles]

DVD Review: Chicago 10

http://blogcritics.org/archives/2008/08/24/165728.php

Published August 24, 2008
Written by Fantasma el Rey

Chicago 10's tagline, "The Convention Was The Drama. The Trial Was
The Comedy," is perfectly illustrated in the films' hour and
forty-three minutes. Blending actual footage and animation makes this
documentary something different and unique, as were the participants
in those events of 1968. Chicago was not only host to the Democratic
Party convention that year but also to youthful subculture figures
who would rise out of the chaos of those days as legends. Abbie
Hoffman, Jerry Rubin, Tom Hayden, and Bobby Seale would become
inspiration for many, many people for years to come. Not only in the
world of politics but in music as well, fueling the fire for bands
such as Rage Against The Machine and System Of A Down.

The 1968 Democratic convention was to be the stage for one of the
largest gatherings of youth in peaceful protest. There were to be
bands playing and hippies dancing toward peace in nearby Lincoln Park
but that was not to be the case. As the crowd grew and the march
began, police presence became more visible and active to prevent
anyone from getting too close to the steps of the International
Amphitheatre. Alternate routes were taken, yet things still got bad.
Violence erupted everywhere, much of it caught on film.

The key figures were rounded up and accused of conspiracy, inciting
to riot, and other charges related to the protests and so on and so
forth. There is more to the story but that is what Chicago 10 goes
over and covers in graphic detail. I'm not going to recreate those
days here in type; I'll let you watch the film or seek out more
detailed accounts of those days than I could ever give.

The film does do a wonderful job in bringing back to life those days
of color and horror, though. Existing archive film is used when and
where available while animation based on court transcripts is used
for the courtroom and other places where cameras were not present, as
in that key moment when the "Yippie" (Youth International Party) name
was born. During those latter scenes, the actors used as voice talent
for our main characters do good work in capturing the personalities
of the people they are voicing. Hank Azaria (Abbie Hoffman), Mark
Ruffalo (Rubin), Jeffery Wright (Seale), and Roy Scheider (Judge
Julius Hoffman) lend their skills to help paint the picture.

Also lending talent and punctuation to the film is the music of the
Beastie Boys and Rage Against The Machine. The music is put to good
use by writer/director Brett Morgen and highlights scenes perfectly,
providing an energy level that must have matched the electricity that
was in the air in those uncertain times.

From start to finish my eyes were fixed on the screen as the images
of the courtroom and around Chicago played out in front of me. Morgen
has arranged the scenes so the movie flows back and forth between the
events, pulling moments from during and prior to both the convention
and the trial. This method not only keeps the film fresh but gives it
a pace that pushes it forward, holding your interest while upping
your anticipation of what will happen next.

Some of the unbelievable events that came out of the trial are played
out for us. Even though it's animated, it makes one think how close
to a police state the nation was, or is. To see Seale bound and
gagged to his chair in the courtroom (the precedent was actually set
in a case years prior) and to see how certain rights were denied
today we think these things can never happen in our country but they
did and not that long ago.

On the other hand Chicago 10 illustrates how the older generation
could see these youths as loud-mouthed troublemakers. Morgen took
nothing away from Abbie's or Jerry's personalities and a more
conservative viewpoint can point out that they were acting up and
being juvenile merry pranksters. They did wear judicial robes to
court and Abbie was fond of blowing kisses to the jury, but that, my
friends, is for you to decide. I suggest reading more on the lives of
the Chicago 10 or 8 or 7, depending on how you look at the case (if
you count the lawyers as Jerry did, it's 10 along with Seale, who's
was eventually tried separately). So go steal this DVD and draw your
own conclusions.

The DVD has one special feature that is a remix video by a contest
winner that uses scenes from the movie to sum it up in a few minutes.
The rumor mill has it that two sequels are in the works as well as a
live-action film. Should be interesting to see how those pan out.
Don't forget to vote.

--------

Chicago 10

http://www.dvdtown.com/reviews/chicago-10/6229

DVD/APPROX. 99 MINS./2007/US R

By John J. Puccio
FIRST PUBLISHED Aug 24, 2008

The Democrats held their 1968 Presidential Convention in Chicago, and
while hardly anybody remembers the convention itself, people surely
remember the surrounding events. It took place just as controversy
over the Vietnam War was heating to a frenzy, and protesters of all
stripes surrounded the convention hall. The government brought eight
people in particular to trial for disturbing the peace and inciting a
riot, with the ensuing court case making bigger headlines than the
convention ever did.

The eight protesters the government put on trial were Abbie Hoffman,
Jerry Rubin, David Dellinger, Tom Hayden, Rennie Davis, John Froines,
Lee Weiner, and Bobby Seale. The movie's writer and director, Brett
Morgen ("On the Ropes," "The Kid Stays in the Picture"), titled his
2007 film version of the events "Chicago 10" because at the time of
the trial Rubin insisted that people include their two lawyers in the
name of the group.

The trial became a circus, the hijinks ironically attracting more
attention to the antiwar movement than the Chicago authorities, the
Democratic Party, or the U.S. Government had ever wanted. In keeping
with the goofy and sometimes frantic spirit of the circumstances that
transpired, Morgen uses not only archival footage but animation to
tell the story. It's not your ordinary documentary.

You can't say Morgen didn't muster the best possible cast for the
picture, either. He assembled the voice talents of Hank Azaria, Nick
Nolte, Mark Ruffalo, Amy Ryan, Roy Scheider, Liev Schreiber, and
Jeffrey Wright, among others, to bring the tale to life. Of course,
it didn't do much good. Paramount opened the film in a limited run,
where it died an inglorious death. Maybe it will pick up a following
on DVD, although, to be honest, despite its storytelling creativity,
it doesn't generate as much inspiration or excitement as I would have expected.

Morgen alternates newsreel shots of the real-life convention
activities with animated scenes of the subsequent trial, and the two
techniques don't always mesh. The polar-opposite styles tend
sometimes to clash jarringly, the one showing the harsh realities of
the situation, the other presenting a much more lightweight, comical
side. Given the serious consequences of the situation, it doesn't
seem quite fair not to have settled down to a single tone. After all,
the events of the film (the protests, especially) were in part
responsible for many of the "Peace Now," "Power to the people," free
speech, question authority, right of assembly, and antigovernment
movements and demonstrations we know today, among much more. At the
very least, the Chicago 10 (or the Chicago 8, or the Chicago 7
without Seale) incidents gave voice to these movements. Here,
however, the animation in particular seems somewhat to trivialize them.

Outside the convention hall, police tear-gassed protesters and beat
them with clubs, while the National Guard stood by as necessary.
Newsman Walter Cronkite called Chicago at that moment a "police
state." At the later trial, the defendants took special pleasure in
tormenting the seventy-five-year-old, conservative judge (whose name,
coincidentally, was Hoffman). At one point, Rubin and defendant
Hoffman appeared in court wearing black judicial robes. When the
judge ordered them to take them off, they were wearing fake police
uniforms underneath. The defendants were clearly trying to mock the
government and point out the hypocrisy of the war, yet somehow the
way the movie depicts these events, it never does much more than
entertain for a minute or two. While I have all the sympathy in the
world for the defendants, the protesters, the marchers, and
everything they stood for, Morgen's film presentation never moved me
as much as it should have.

The animation Morgen employs looks like the computer-rotoscoping
technique used in various other motion pictures, like Richard
Linklater's animated films, and TV commercials. It's apparently
inexpensive and gets the job done. In this case, I suppose Morgen
intended it as a further mocking of the silliness of the trial, but I
didn't find it all that intriguing, just a little off-putting.

Furthermore, as important as the convention protests and the trial
were, the movie doesn't seem to say anything new about them, doesn't
seem to illuminate the characters or events any more than what most
people already know. And if Morgen intended his film for younger
audiences who might not know the circumstances, I'm not sure he gave
them enough inspiration beyond the anticipated slant the case takes
when presenting its facts.

It would take over six years after the events of Chicago before a
majority of the nation saw the light, agreed with the protesters, and
forced the government to end the war. Still, as I say, the movie's
portrayal of the convention events and trial failed to move me as
much as I wanted them to, despite some powerful images. The Chicago
police had guns, clubs, and tear gas. The protesters were unarmed.
You figure it out.

Video:
Because of the nature of the storytelling, the video presentation is
all over the map. The 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen ratio encompasses
old newsreel footage, new title shots, and a good deal of computer
animation, with the vintage scenes varying from faded color to grainy
black-and-white, the title screens purposely grainy to set the mood,
and the animation looking letter perfect. Colors in the animation are
especially vivid, with excellent definition and virtually no noise or
grain. The rest, as I say, is variable, the director no doubt leaving
the older material just the way he found it.

Audio:
The Dolby Digital 5.1 audio does what it can with its mix of old and
new content. The surrounds do a fine job with crowd noises and a few
special effects; the frequency response appears limited to midrange
dialogue; and the dynamic range has virtually no reason to be any
wider than it is, which is pretty narrow. This is a documentary,
after all, not a summer blockbuster.

Extras:
There is not much in the way of extras here. Mainly, we get a
"Chicago 10" Remix Video Contest winner Gina Tararoli's
minute-and-a-half short subject. Beyond that, there are a few
previews at start-up and in the main menu; sixteen scene selections,
which no menu lists anywhere (I had to count the chapter stops by
pressing "Next" on my remote); English as the only spoken language;
and English subtitles.

Parting Thoughts:
I'd say it's close but not quite the big cigar for Brett Morgen's
well intended and in some ways highly original documentary. Well, the
use of animation in "Chicago 10" is different, anyway, whether it
works or not. The movie's overall appeal is little more than
ordinary; where the film should, theoretically, have lighted a fire
under the viewer, it tends often to fizzle. Nevertheless, its subject
matter is too important to miss.

--------

Chicago 10

http://www.tulsaworld.com/entertainment/spot/article.aspx?articleID=20080822_281_D3_Aiainf460968

By JAMES VANCE World Scene Writer
8/22/2008

With organized and highly vocal protesters ­ including a group called
Recreate 68 ­ already gearing up for next week's Democratic National
Convention in Denver, director Brett Morgen's documentary "Chicago
10" seems particularly timely.

Morgen has assembled what he calls a "hybrid documentary" that
combines stunning archival footage and new animation to recreate the
nightmarish events of the 1968 Democratic convention in Chicago and
its surreal aftermath. Whether you remember those days vividly, or
they were years before your time, Morgen's film is well worth your attention.

The issue 40 years ago, of course, was the Vietnam War, and a lot of
vaguely allied groups of objectors to that conflict had agreed to
converge on Chicago to make their voices heard at a time when cameras
and microphones would be everywhere. The result was a bloody
confrontation, which the subsequent Walker Commission would describe
as a "police riot" enacted on live television, with young Americans
bludgeoned and gassed while the world was watching.

The news footage of the first days, depicting the scruffy hordes
acting out in the park like obnoxious adolescents, is alternately
amusing and frustrating. Cocky and exuberant, they climb statues and
proclaim their belief in the power of the people with heartbreakingly
naïve conviction. As tensions mount between the protesters and the
authorities, you can see a dawning realization among some that they
may have placed themselves in real danger but for most, turning back
would be unthinkable.

In the moments leading up to the famous confrontation in the streets,
one young protester looks out across the sea of armed men standing
between him and the site of the convention and laughs.

"Isn't it wonderful," he says, "to be in a free country where we can
speak in front of bayonets?"

An hour later, nobody's laughing. Billy clubs are splitting young
people's skulls, bleeding protesters are being dragged into paddy
wagons, a woman calls out, "These are just kids!" as teargas is
launched, and downtown Chicago becomes a war zone.

On trial

Morgen makes no pretense of laying out a balanced or objective look
at the events. His sympathies lie squarely with the Yippies, hippies,
Black Panthers and unaffiliated concerned citizens who descended on
Chicago to demand an end to what they considered an immoral and pointless war.

As compelling as that material is, the trial that followed provides
the film's most memorable segments. Here, and in other portions of
the story that have not been preserved on film, Morgen has chosen to
present the action via animation, with actors providing the voices.

It's a risky approach, but it works surprisingly well. Using the
trial transcript as their script, a gifted cast that includes Hank
Azaria (as gleeful provocateur Abbie Hoffman), Mark Ruffalo (as Jerry
Rubin), Jeffrey Wright (as Bobby Seale) and Roy Scheider, in one of
his final performances (as Judge Julius Hoffman), bring the events to
vivid life.

Charged with conspiracy and inciting to riot, the eight defendants
are as rebellious and outspoken in the courtroom as on the streets.

While they and their lawyers wrack up contempt charges and drive the
judge to near-apoplexy, the court and the prosecutors behave even
more outrageously, turning the proceedings into the biggest legal
circus since the Scopes Monkey Trial.

It's hard to argue with the film's thesis that, in 1968, the
government tried to silence dissidents by treating them as criminals
and traitors.

As a new chorus of dissenting voices prepares to be heard in Denver,
we could all do with a reminder of how badly that plan played out for
all involved.

SCREENING

Maynard Ungerman, a Tulsa attorney who was involved in the 1968
Democratic Convention in Chicago, will speak and answer questions
following the 7 p.m. Friday screening of "Chicago 10."

The effect

The animation itself may not be to everyone's taste; though utilizing
the arguably more sophisticated process of motion capture, the effect
is about the same as the rotoscoping used over 30 years ago by Ralph
Bakshi or the makers of "Heavy Metal."

The effect of having such a serious subject occasionally reduced to
an unattractive Saturday morning cartoon is a little jarring at
times. Fortunately, the power of the material is enough to overcome
most of these moments.

"Chicago 10"

Stars:
Abbie Hoffman, Jerry Rubin, Hank Azaria
Theater:
Circle Cinema
Running time:
one hour, 50 minutes
Rated:
R (language and brief sexual images)
Quality:
***(on a scale of zero to four stars)
--

James Vance 581-8372
james.vance@tulsaworld.com

--------

Under protest

http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/nation/20080825-9999-1c25chicago.html

'Chicago 10' re-creates fallout from '68 convention

By John Wilkens
UNION-TRIBUNE STAFF WRITER
August 25, 2008

Political conventions like the Democratic one in Denver this week are
among the most stage-managed "news" events on the planet. Suspense
takes a holiday.

What happens outside can't always be so carefully scripted, though.
With the economy struggling and the nation at war, thousands of
protesters are expected in Denver. Police have set up a warehouse for
processing arrestees and topped the makeshift cells with barbed wire.

One of the groups helping to coordinate demonstrations is called
"Recreate 68." The 68 refers to 1968, to maybe the most notorious
convention ever, when police clashed with anti-war protesters on the
streets of Chicago.

As it turns out, re-creating '68 has already been done, and done
well, in the documentary "Chicago 10." It opened in theaters last
March and is scheduled for release on DVD tomorrow.

The film, an edgy mix of archive footage and animation, explores the
origins of the 1968 riots and reintroduces us to a colorful cast of
characters: Abbie Hoffman, Jerry Rubin, Tom Hayden, Bobby Seale.

All four were among the eight people later charged with inciting the
riots. Their jaw-dropping circus of a trial – Seale was bound and
gagged, Hoffman offered to hook the judge up with an LSD dealer –
raised profound constitutional questions that resonate today, four
decades later.

"It's an important piece of history, and the documentary does a
pretty good job of reflecting what happened back then," Seale said in
a recent phone interview.

Seale, 71, wasn't supposed to be in Chicago that summer. The
co-founder of the Black Panthers had never met Hoffman, Rubin and the
other protest organizers. But when Eldridge Cleaver, another Panther
leader and author of "Soul on Ice," couldn't make it, they invited Seale.

He gave a couple of speeches, got on a plane and left town before
most of the mayhem happened – the "Kill the Pigs" chants and the tear
gas and the clubbings. Weeks later, when Seale was in Scandinavia on
a speaking tour, he was indicted for conspiracy.

"I was shocked and surprised," he said. "Then again, those of us in
the movement expected one day that the powers-that-be would either
arrest us or kill us."

Seale said he grew up "hating bullies," and when he got to court he
felt bullied. He wanted to act as his own lawyer, but the judge
wouldn't let him, and their sparring provides some of the film's most
riveting moments.

"Young man," the judge, Julius Hoffman, admonished at one point.

"Old man," Seale shot back.

Eventually the judge ruled that Seale was disrupting "the orderly
administration of justice" and ordered him shackled. Bailiffs chained
him to a metal chair. You watch it happen in the film and wonder,
"What country is this?"

Seale refused to be silenced. "I remembered that a person pulling at
his chains is acting in the manner of a free person, so that's what I
did," he recalled. He made such a racket, metal on metal, that
bailiffs switched him to leather straps and a wooden chair the next day.

A defense attorney referred to the getup as "medieval torture" and
asked the judge to end it. The judge did so by severing Seale from
the other defendants, convicting him of contempt and sentencing him
to four years in jail. He served almost two before he was released.

No cameras were allowed in the courtroom during the trial, so in the
documentary, the proceedings are re-created through animation. It's
jarring at first, but dialogue straight from the trial transcripts
adds authenticity. As the film proceeds, it rises above being cartoonish.

Actor Jeffrey Wright provided the voice for Seale, who admitted he
wasn't too happy about having a stand-in. He's always spoken up for
himself (at one point even selling his own barbecue cookbook, but
that's another story) and would have preferred to do so here, he said.

"I met the director (Brett Morgen) and told him, 'I should have been
consulted on this film because I know my stuff,' " Seale said. "He
told me he expected me to be an old man with a shaky voice, and then
he heard me and he said, 'My God, it's like talking to a 19-year-old!' "

Seale also might have been able to set Morgen straight on the title.
For 40 years the defendants have been known collectively as either
the Chicago 7 or the Chicago 8 (if Seale is included). The filmmakers
added defense lawyers William Kunstler and Leonard Weinglass to come
up with the Chicago 10, which feels revisionist and silly.

The story doesn't need that kind of tweaking. It's already potent
stuff, a window into one of the most tumultuous, polarizing periods
in recent American history. Generations and cultures were clashing.
Revolution was in the air.

"Chicago 10" captures a lot of the fury (almost inevitably, the
soundtrack features songs by Rage Against the Machine), and it makes
you understand that something important hung in the balance, on the
streets and in the courtroom.

To his credit, Morgen does all this without making Seale and the
others into innocent victims. They knew what they were doing. There's
a fascinating scene of Abbie Hoffman, a master manipulator, watching
himself being interviewed on television and nodding in approval. In a
lot of ways, they got exactly what they wanted – to be heard, and to
be remembered.

"There will always be a place in this country for people who feel a
need to protest," Seale said. "The First Amendment gives us that
right. I never stopped speaking. I speak to this day."

"Chicago 10" speaks, too. It's worth watching.

.

David Crosby not shy about which side he's on

[2 articles]

David Crosby not shy about which side he's on

http://www.denverpost.com/ci_10268772

By Ricardo Baca
Denver Post Pop Music Critic
Article Last Updated: 08/22/2008

It's hard to believe, but David Crosby, an artist celebrated for his
liberal activism as much as for inspired songwriting, will attend his
first-ever Democratic National Convention, in Denver next week.

"Usually the people who try to get celebrities to come around to
conventions and stuff want bigger ones than me," Crosby said via
telephone from his Santa Barbara, Calif., home earlier this week.
"They want Jennifer Lopez or something."

And mind you, Crosby won't attend the convention itself. He's going
to the Buell Theatre to play an etown show Tuesday with buddies
Graham Nash, James Taylor and Ani DiFranco.

"I don't like most politicians, so I don't see what the attraction is
to go and be in the middle of a bunch of them," Crosby said. "I'm
definitely not going to the convention. I'm going to etown. I have a
very high opinion of etown. They're good people, and they do really
good work. And I don't think you can say that about most politicians."

What about the dude getting ready to accept the Democratic nomination?

"I think he's a very encouraging guy, a very intelligent man ­ which
is, of course, a complete 180 degree shift from where we've been the
last eight years," Crosby said. "The idea of having a guy who can
speak in complete sentences is extremely attractive Barack has
dignity and moral values, and I believe he loves his country."

Crosby is just one of many musicians making their way to the Mile
High City in the next 10 days. Conventions have grown into media
circuses where entertainers and politicos share the same ground for a
few days. It's going to be an incredibly busy music week in Denver
with performers as varied as Willie Nelson and the Black Eyed Peas,
Fall Out Boy and Rage Against the Machine, Daughtry and Melissa
Etheridge, the Blue Scholars and Silversun Pickups, Moby and Ted Leo
and the Pharmacists ­ and maybe Dave Matthews, Kanye West and Bruce
Springsteen.

While some bold names will be in Denver all week ­ playing this
party, getting spotted at that party, hobnobbing at another party ­
Crosby is fine with getting in and out.

"I have a friend who does a show on Air America, David Bender, and
I'll probably do his show while I'm there," said Crosby. "If we get
roped into something else, we get roped into something else."

Crosby understands the weight of the current presidential race, not
to mention the great divide in America today. There's a scene in the
recent Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young documentary, "Déj… Vu," that
films angry fans leaving in the middle of a CSNY concert in Atlanta
as the group spoke against President Bush and sang songs such as
"Let's Impeach the President." The group knew their political views
would make an impact in the South, and that's why they were filming
it for the documentary, but they didn't know the reaction would be so severe.

"When you look at the people, the ones who were disgruntled, they're
not the people who I really give a (expletive) about," Crosby said.
"Truth is, it's good to stir things up. It's good to make people have
a dialogue with each other, even if it starts out with people yelling
and pointing fingers."

When asked about the dichotomy of an artist-fan relationship ­ they
love your music but not your personality or politics ­ Crosby changed
his tune a bit.

"I do give a (expletive) about them, but I think they're kind of
funny when they come to a CSNY concert and get mad about there being
politics," he said. "I don't have a lot of sympathy for them. We've
been probably the most political band in the world ­ or at least one
of them. Anybody who comes to a concert of ours and expects us to not
be anti-war and pro-human and anti-George Bush is crazy. They should
have gone to a different concert."
--

Ricardo Baca: 303-954-1394or rbaca@denverpost.com

--------

Crosby, Nash coming to Denver

http://www.thedenverdailynews.com/article.php?aID=1572

And bringing new rendition of protest song with them

Gene Davis, DDN Staff Writer
Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Concertgoers who saw Crosby, Stills and Nash play the Wells Fargo
Theatre this past summer likely remember the group's passionate
rendition of "Denver," a song encouraging protesters to come to town
for the Democratic National Convention.

The song, a remade version of Graham Nash's 1971 song "Chicago," was
slyly dedicated to Gov. Bill Ritter, who was in the audience.

"Politicians sit yourselves down, there's nothing for you here …
Won't you please come to Denver or else join the other side," the song sneered.

Laura Kriho, founder of the "Come Up To Denver" Campaign, was
overjoyed with the rendition. The activist had contacted Nash's
management several months before about changing "Chicago," which was
about the 1968 Democratic National Convention, to "Denver" in hopes
of encouraging protesters to come to town for the DNC.

"A band like Crosby, Stills and Nash is very powerful," Kriho told
the Denver Daily News. "Not many bands are politically active these days."

Kriho originally recruited some friends to record the revised
"Denver" last April. The updated version shared the same words as
"Chicago," the only difference being the city's name.

Still resonates today

Lines from "Chicago" like "So your brother's bound and gagged and
they've chained him to a chair" still resonate today, said Kriho,
even if it brings images of Guantanamo Bay instead of Chicago 7's
Bobby Seale, the original inspiration for the lyrics.

"Forty years later you would think we would have made some progress,"
she said. "In a lot of ways, things have gotten worse. We have a lot
less freedom than we did in 1968."

Along with updating Nash's song, the Come Up to Denver campaign is
helping organize the Democratic National Counter-Convention. A
variety of protest groups have events planned over the next two
weeks, and Kriho's Web site, ComeUpToDenver.org, has a detailed list
of the activist activities going on.

Similar goals unite

While well publicized friction has happened between some protest
groups­Recreate 68 and Tent State University comes to mind­Kriho said
common goals like ending the war will unite them in the end.

"You get to have all these different people together who would
normally not work together," she said. "Yes there's been friction,
but at the end of the day what will stand out is everybody joining together."

Catch Crosby and Nash

Nash and Crosby will return to Denver during the DNC to play Etown on
Aug. 26 at the Temple Buell Theatre. More information about the Etown
DNC performance is available at Etown.org/DNC.php.

.

Two art exhibits, one intense look at race

Two art exhibits, one intense look at race

http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/ent/arts/theater/5956288.html

Get back-to-back history lessons in works spanning slavery, civil rights

By DOUGLAS BRITT
Aug. 20, 2008

Two exhibits, one at Texas Southern University, the other at the
Station Museum of Contemporary Art, offer bracing history lessons on
race relations. Seeing them back to back intensifies their power.

The title of the TSU show is Drapetomania: A Disease Called Freedom ­
Art and Artifacts From the Derrick Joshua Beard Collection. It takes
its name from a "condition" first described in 1851 to the Medical
Association of Louisiana by Samuel A. Cartwright as a mental illness
supposedly afflicting slaves when they were treated too kindly, grew
dissatisfied with their conditions and fled.

Today it's widely known that such pseudoscience was common in the
19th century. But seeing the term "drapetomania" repeated by H.A.
Ramsey in the September 1854 issue of the Georgia Blister and Critic,
"a monthly journal devoted to the development of Southern medical
literature and the exposition of the diseases and peculiarities of
the Negro race," drives the point home.

The article is one of more than 200 works, including slavery-auction
notices, photographs, rare books and antique furniture, on view in
Drapetomania.

Impressive collection

A descendant of free blacks who worked as artisans in Alabama, Beard
is a construction and real-estate magnate with a keen eye for objects
that shed light on African-American history between the 18th and
early-20th centuries.

The works he's collected run the gamut from a spiked slave collar ­
used both to inflict pain and to identify slaves who had attempted
escape ­ to an exquisitely crafted walnut four-poster bed by Henry
Boyd. The ex-slave operated a furniture factory in Cincinnati after
buying his freedom.

Photographs and illustrations also touch off a variety of emotions.
You see drawings of slaves being subjected to nearly every possible
cruelty. New Orleans children born into slavery look angelic in tiny
1864 photos that were sold to raise money for black schools in the
Department of the Gulf, which was created after Union forces assumed
control of the city in 1862. Portraits by Augustus Washington, a free
black photographer who ran a successful daguerreotype studio in
Hartford, Conn., provide examples of African-American enterprise.

The abundant array of text-heavy printed materials more than holds
its own against the visual imagery. An 1849 auction broadside, posted
by a Kentucky farmer leaving for Oregon, announces the sale of most
of his ox teams, two milk cows and a mare, six fox hounds, and a slew
of other possessions, all of which are itemized before the six slaves
­ two men, 35 and 50; two "boys," 12 and 18; and "two mulatto
wenches," 35 and 50 ­ round off the list. The owner names the two ox
teams he won't sell ­ "Buck and Ben, and Tom and Jerry" ­ but leaves
the slaves anonymous.

Pro- and anti-slavery newspapers, a National Association for the
Advancement of Colored People fundraising ad denouncing lynching and
an "application for citizenship in the invisible empire" of the Ku
Klux Klan wage propaganda battles.

Even receipts and bills of sale carry an emotional charge because
they involve the sale of human beings, sometimes to themselves. An
example of such a case is a manumission document certifying that
Louisa Conway, a slave, had paid her $450 price in full.

An 1868 Kentucky marriage certificate serves as a reminder that it
was illegal for blacks to marry in many states before emancipation.
It also resonates with today's culture wars over gay marriage.

The exhibit also features sections devoted to slavery and revolution
in Haiti, black musical achievements and the minstrels who made a
mockery of them, the Reconstruction era, African-American military
service and black life in the Western territories and states.

Defending Democracy

Drapetomania ends chronologically with a selection of James Van Der
Zee photographs that extend into the Depression. But you can
fast-forward the narrative at the Station, where much of Defending
Democracy deals with the history of the Black Panther Party.

A section devoted to the politically charged graphic art of Emory
Douglas, the party's former minister of culture, crackles with
revolutionary fervor. Posters and illustrations for the Black Panther
newspaper serve not just as calls to arms but as emblems of black pride.

You don't have to subscribe to Douglas' ideology to appreciate what
his art must have meant to viewers who long had seen themselves
depicted in the degrading manner found in so many of the images shown
in Drapetomania.

The newspapers on view don't just promote boycotts and rallies but
also the party's Free Breakfast for Children program, free testing
for sickle cell anemia and other programs that are too easily
overlooked in accounts that emphasize the Black Panthers' violent reputation.

As in the TSU show, this section of Defending Democracy includes
plenty of absorbing reading. Sure, it's propaganda, but as
Drapetomania shows, sometimes there's no substitute for seeing
propaganda firsthand.

Black Panthers

El Shabazz High School Gym, an installation by the Houston-based
collective Otabenga Jones and Associates, is essentially a film
curatorial project. Each day during regular Station hours, a
different documentary related to the Black Panther era screens in a
loop. A second free series has screened throughout the exhibition at
8 p.m. every other Sunday, complete with free popcorn and other snacks.

In keeping with the Black Panthers' message of solidarity with all
oppressed peoples, the exhibit's other section is devoted to the
Assembly of Revolutionary Artists of Oaxaca, whose prints and sprayed
wall paintings have played a part in the democracy movement in Mexico
since October 2006.

Though the two exhibits take distinct approaches to their subject
matter, viewing them as companion shows makes for a riveting double-header.
--

douglas.britt@chron.com

.

"Gonzo" Offers a Well-Rounded Portrait of Hunter S. Thompson

"Gonzo" Offers a Well-Rounded Portrait of Hunter S. Thompson

http://www.prnewschannel.com/absolutenm/templates/?a=782&z=4

Oscar buzz ramping up around this fascinating documentary.

FlatSigned.com - August 23, 2008

(PRNewsChannel) / Nashville, Tenn. – One of the last relationships
Hunter S. Thompson developed was with a publisher of autographed,
limited edition books. That relationship was with the founder and
owner of FlatSigned Press, Tim Miller. Miller and Thompson
corresponded many times during the final year of Thompson's life and
they became close. Although he was reclusive, Thompson talked with
Miller, autographed books for FlatSigned and had many discussions of
politics, morals and life in general.

The late journalist Dr. Hunter S. Thompson left a public image of a
madman, constantly engaged in drug-fueled odysseys through the
American underbelly in the 1960s and 1970s, a side of him
immortalized in the Hollywood films "Where the Buffalo Roam" starring
Bill Murray and "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," in which Johnny
Depp went over the top as a hallucinogen-crazed Thompson. That image
was cast in stone when Gerry Trudeau transformed him into the
character of "Raoul Duke" in his "Doonesbury" comic strip.

But the new documentary "Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr. Hunter S.
Thompson" shows a different portrait of Thompson – that of a
brilliant, often frighteningly lucid mind at work, coolly and
objectively dissecting the world around him even as that world drove
him to use drugs and alcohol as an intermediary between himself and
the awful reality he documented so well. During his race for sheriff
of Colorado's Pitken County (home to the resort town of Aspen) in
1970, he was written up in the media as the "freak power" candidate,
and while there couldn't help but be a general circus air around any
candidacy that featured as its logo a fist clenching a peyote button,
Thompson was anything but the stereotypical hippie/yippy making vague
declarations about peace and love and tuning in. In one debate, he
declared memorably that "I think that the marijuana laws are one of
the reasons that has engendered the lack of respect that cops
complain about all over the country. When you've got a whole
generation that grows up as felons, and they know that the law's
ridiculous; they're told all this gibberish about it, that it drives
you crazy and makes your brain soft, makes your feet fall off…even
the police know it's a silly law."

Days after 9/11, he wrote prophetically that what was to come "will
be a Religious War, a sort of Christian Jihad, fueled by religious
hatred and led by merciless fanatics on both sides. It will be
guerilla warfare on a global scale, with no front lines and no
identifiable enemy…We are going to punish somebody for this attack,
but just who or what will be blown to smithereens for it is hard to
say. Maybe Afghanistan, maybe Pakistan or Iraq, or possibly all three
at once…This is going to be a very expensive war, and Victory is not
guaranteed -- for anyone, and certainly not for anyone as baffled as
George W. Bush."

Tim Miller, President and CEO of FlatSigned Press, first came into
contact with Dr. Thompson near the end of his life. "I'd worked with
the late President Ford on several projects and he wintered in Aspen,
and so I heard from people there about Thompson, who lived in Woody
Creek, not far off." A specialist in collectible books and signed
editions, Miller knew that Thompson was one of the more reclusive
authors around. "I sent him a letter, asking him if he'd be willing
to autograph some books, and he wrote back, giving me his phone
number, and said yes, he would, if I sent him the biggest bottle they
made of Chivas Regal 'Royal Salute' Scotch Whiskey." Miller
willingly complied and so began not only a business relationship but
a friendship with Thompson.

Knowing Thompson had recently gotten married, Miller sent his nephew
out for expensive, engraved shot glasses for Thompson and his new
wife Anita. "We had them personalized with his and his wife Anita's
names, and I know he liked them, even though he called them the 'ugly
jiggers' a number of times during our conversations and his letters
to me." Thompson autographed twelve books for Miller, but what made
them special were the stories he wrote in them. "They weren't
'flatsigned' in the traditional sense, which is when a book has the
author's signature directly on a page of the book but without being
personalized," Miller explained. "He'd write stories in them, wild
stuff. In one case, he knew that my nephew had just gotten married,
and he wrote in one book about how he had sex with my nephew's new
wife in Houston, Texas." Although largely unknown to the public,
Thompson considered himself one of the original "Merry Pranksters" of
Ken Kesey fame. Thompson and Kesey were friends, along with others
not so well known to be part of the group, including Larry McMurtry,
with whom Miller also had contact. Miller and Thompson shared
stories about McMurtry and the other members of this truly legendary
gang of peace lovers and drug proponents.

Miller could tell from their conversations that Thompson was "truly
infatuated" with his new bride, who was young enough to be his
daughter. His typical waking hours were 2 pm on, and he would just
be getting going around midnight. "He'd always let his machine pick
up calls, but when he heard my voice, he'd always pick up. Whatever
his reputation, in reality he was a sweet, kind, helpful guy." The
last time they spoke, Thompson and Anita were watching a movie in
their home theater. "He seemed relaxed and happy, but he was dead, a
suicide, less than a month later."

Thompson became a recluse partly out of fear, Miller said. "He
always feared being murdered by someone he knew; from his past or his
present. That fear began with his book on the Hell's Angels which
Thompson had written and was published in 1966. "He hated public
signings and interviews, and drank a lot out of fear. He even came up
to one signing, which was required by his contract with his
publisher, in a limo, threw signed bookplates out the window of the
car, and sped off. That, in his mind, fulfilled his contractual
obligation to his publisher." "Gonzo" substantiates this in a
memorable scene where, not long after publication of the book "Hell's
Angels," a young Thompson appears on a talk show where host and guest
are seated in the center of the studio, and a member of the Angels
roars in and circles them on his motorcycle. As the Angel and
Thompson dispute how Thompson was bounced out of the gang (he
interfered when one of the members was beating a woman), the fear on
Thompson's face is palpable.

"It's a real loss for the country," Miller said of Thompson's
death. "As his wife Anita says in the movie, with what's going on in
the country now, well, now more than ever we could use a voice like
his. Thompson was an intellectual politically and otherwise. He
knew and felt strongly about how our country was on the wrong path
and had ideas as to how to change things for the better. He was
never elected to political office but he would have served proudly
and would have been an improvement over so many of our elected,
political leaders."

About FlatSigned Press
Founded in 1998, FlatSigned Press, Inc. is a rare book seller and
publishing company specializing in the sale and publishing of rare
and collectible books, signed first-editions, manuscripts, historical
documents, art, and autographs. FlatSigned has worked with many of
the world's most famous authors and notable figures including the
late President Gerald R. Ford, astronaut and moonwalker Buzz Aldrin,
and General Hal Moore, best known for his leadership during the
battle of La Drang during the Vietnam War, well-detailed in the 1992
book "We Were Soldiers Once… And Young," which became the 2002 film
"We Were Soldiers" starring Mel Gibson. The firm's catalog features
autographed books from a diverse group of authors, including:

Supreme Court Justices Stephen Breyer, Ruth Bader Ginsberg, Anthony
Kennedy, Sandra Day O'Connor, William Rehnquist, Antonin Scalia, and
Clarence Thomas;

Mercury and Apollo astronauts Buzz Aldrin, Alan Bean, Scott
Carpenter, Gordon Cooper, Edgar Mitchell, and Wally Schirra;

Former United States Presidents (and presidential candidates) George
H. W. Bush, Jimmy Carter, Bill Clinton, and Hillary Rodham Clinton;

As well as authors H. G. "Buzz" Bissinger, Ray Bradbury, Dan Brown,
Vincent Bugliosi, James Lee Burke, Arthur C. Clarke, Joe Galloway,
William Goldman, Richard Gordon, Sue Grafton, John Grisham, John
Irving, Stephen King, Harper Lee, Cormac McCarthy, Larry McMurtry,
Arthur Miller, Lt. General Hal Moore, Tim O'Brien, E. Annie Proulx,
Anne Rice, Wilbur Smith, Nicholas Sparks, Hunter S. Thompson, Kurt
Vonnegut, and Joseph Wambaugh.

Coined by legendary horror writer Stephen King, the term FlatSigned
refers to the most desirable type of collectible book: One that is
signed by the author directly on the title page without an
inscription. FlatSigned has consistently earned annual sales in
excess of $2 million and an EBITA profit of 30%. Additional
information can be obtained from www.flatsigned.comorby calling
1-866-FLATSIGNED.

About Owner and Publisher of FlatSigned Press Inc., Tim Miller: Born
to an impoverished southern family that had no running water until he
was 13, Tim Miller has worked hard his entire life, becoming one of
the most notable publishers and book collectors in the world.
Throughout his illustrious career, the Lyndon Baines Johnson Scholar
has served as White House Press Correspondent and worked directly for
the U.S. Congress. He held Certified Press Credentials for both the
U.S. House of Representatives and the U.S. Senate. He has been
honored with distinctions including Memphis, TN newspaper "The
Commercial Appeal's" version of President George W. Bush's 1,000
Points of Light Award, named to Who's Who in America for seven
consecutive years, and named to Who's Who in American Colleges four
consecutive years. Always civic-minded, Miller has held distinctive
positions including National Staff Officer for the United States
Junior Chamber of Commerce, President of the Memphis Junior Chamber
of Commerce, State Officer of the Tennessee Jaycees, and Executive
Director of the Wisconsin Junior Chamber. A graduate of Austin Peay
State University, he attended the Memphis State University School of
Law and Western Washington State University. Miller has also held
the post of Personnel Officer for St. Jude's Children's Research
Hospital. His civic contributions have earned him the
nationally-recognized Steve Little Memorial Award from the United
States Jaycees.

As President and CEO of the multi-million dollar autographed book
company and publisher FlatSigned Press, Inc., Miller consistently
lends his expertise to television, radio and newspaper personalities
and journalists researching the historical accounts and contemporary
values of rare autographed books. He is a contributor to "The Sanders
Price Guide to Autographs," the definitive price guide for autograph
collectors, and many other trade and consumer autograph publications.
He maintains memberships in the Better Business Bureau, The
International Society of Appraisers, The Manuscript Society and the
Universal Autograph Collectors Club, and has been featured in various
programs and publications including cable television channel QVC, the
Gordon Liddy Show, and national network news. Additional information
can be obtained from www.flatsigned.com.

To request an interview contact:
Tim Miller, President and CEO FlatSigned Press, Inc.
Phone: 615-268-5245
Email: timmiller@flatsigned.com
Web site: www.flatsigned.com

.

Eastern Iowa Democrats recall riotous '68 convention in Chicago

Eastern Iowa Democrats recall riotous '68 convention in Chicago

http://www.gazetteonline.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080824/NEWS/27671151/1006/news

By James Q. Lynch
The Gazette
james.lynch@gazettecommunications.com

"It was an adventure," Kathleen Driscoll says as she recalls the 1968
Democratic National Convention that is remembered more for its
massive anti-war protests than for the convention itself.

Despite the images of club-wielding Chicago police trying to restore
order as hippies demonstrated against the Vietnam War, against
President Nixon and against anything else they could think of,
Driscoll, who was an uncommitted delegate from Williamsburg, never
feared for her safety and says the '68 convention "was done quite proper."

That week 40 years ago is one that Eastern Iowa delegates to the
Democratic convention won't forget.

"I don't think about it much," says Mike Carr of Manchester, who was
28 and in his first year of serving as the Delaware County attorney
when he went to Chicago. "But I have a clear memory of it. In your
life, it's one of those things you remember."

They see similarities between then and now but don't expect the
convention that starts Monday in Denver to be as tumultuous, as
disorderly or as culturally shocking as the 1968 convention.

It's not that there is less passion or that the issues are any less
important than 40 years ago, says Iowa City attorney Bill Sueppel Sr.

"It was a different time, a different age," says Sueppel, 78, who
went to the convention as a Robert Kennedy delegate, but out of
deference to former Iowa Gov. Harold Hughes backed anti-war candidate
Sen. Eugene McCarthy of Minnesota on the first ballot.

"The music was changing. The mood of young people was incredibly
different from what it is now in the sense that everything was new," he said.

Presumptive Democratic nominee Barack Obama's message of change today
is not unlike the vision for America that Robert Kennedy had promoted
before being assassinated nearly three months before the 1968
convention, he says.

"But we're not going through as much change today," Sueppel says.

There are other similarities, says Carr, who still practices law in
Manchester. The nation is involved in a long, unpopular war halfway
around the world. There are economic problems at home.

"We'd had, up to the time of the convention, other protests all over
America, riots, burning buildings," Carr says. "That's not happening
now. Not on that scale."

In 1968, he says, things were explosive.

"The war was dragging on, the casualties were mounting," Carr says.
The convention followed the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr.
and Kennedy. And Sueppel points out that the women's movement, the
civil rights movement and the youth movement were advancing in full
stride, which contributed to an overwhelming sense that the country
was changing ­ a feeling that left many Americans, including many
Democrats, uncomfortable.

"The convention was at the peak of that unrest in America," Carr says.

The difference, they say, was the magnitude of the civil unrest and
civil disobedience.

"The anti-war feeling is as deep against Iraq as it was against
Vietnam," Sueppel says, "but the scale, the magnitude is smaller.
There were 57,000 killed in Vietnam, the constant bombing, the riots
because Nixon wasn't going to pull out.

"There's not people in the streets rioting, burning buildings. It's a
huge difference," he says. "It's not that they don't feel as
strongly, but the approach now is, 'Let's win the election.'"

The 1968 convention was all about tearing things apart, Sueppel says.
The Denver convention will be all about unity.

"I don't anticipate anything like that this time," Sueppel says. "It
will be about 'Yes we can.'"

He doubts the similarity will continue at the convention.

Despite the images of the 1968 convention that linger today, the
Eastern Iowa delegates say they never were afraid or feared physical
harm during their time in Chicago.

"At no time was I scared," says Driscoll, a travel agent who had been
to Chicago a number of times and considered herself to be worldly.
"But when I got home and thought about it, maybe I should have been."

Driscoll, 84, recalls people pounding on the hood of a car she was
riding in and seeing bricks thrown from an overpass, but says the
Chicago police made sure delegates were safe as they moved to and
from the convention.

"I wasn't used to that kind of stuff," she says.

Still, Sueppel says, the evidence of the demonstrations was
unavoidable. He smelled tear gas "pretty consistently" inside and
outside the Drake Hotel where the Iowans stayed.

His parents were stopped by police who wondered why they were walking
around downtown Chicago where the protests were taking place. His
wife, Pat, then eight months pregnant, was stopped by a "very rude"
police officer and almost arrested when she tried to enter the Conrad
Hilton Hotel, the party headquarters, across the street from the
Grant Park demonstrations.

A Korean War-era veteran, Sueppel was opposed to the violence going
on outside the hotel but was offended by the police response.
Numerous demonstrators were beaten.

"I think America was offended," Sueppel says.

If delegates had their eye on the work of the convention ­ nominating
Minnesota Sen. Hubert Humphrey and voicing their opposition to the
war, for example ­ it didn't take long for them to realize how others
saw the convention.

"When I got home, people started asking me, 'Were you ducking billy
clubs?'" Carr says.

As it was then, 40 years later, his recollection of the 1968
Democratic convention is much different from that of people who
followed it in the media.

"It was a heady time, but serious," Carr says. "Exciting. Exciting,
but sad. It was a heavy time in America."

.

Hard lessons of '68 campaign may yet bear fruit

Hard lessons of '68 campaign may yet bear fruit

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2008/08/22/RVO7125LM2.DTL

Dan Zigmond
Sunday, August 24, 2008

Forty years ago this month, while the Chicago police beat and gassed
anti-war protesters outside, 68 members of the Washington, D.C.,
delegation to that year's Democratic National Convention made a
historic choice. They voted for Channing Phillips, making the local
anti-war minister and civil rights leader the first African American
to be nominated for the presidency.

It will be hard to avoid echoes of 1968 at this year's Republican
and, especially, Democratic national conventions. Once again, we are
divided over how to proceed in a painful and largely unpopular
foreign war - a war begun deceptively, often executed incompetently
and continuing to exact nearly unimaginable human cost.

Fortunately for those of us who came of age too late, we have Norman
Mailer's riveting guide to that year's political conventions, "Miami
and the Siege of Chicago," reissued this summer by New York Review
Books and filled with long-forgotten details like those lone protest
votes for Philips. We see the Republicans meet in Miami Beach and,
with comparatively little fanfare and only the thinnest suspense,
elevate the deeply flawed Richard Nixon. A few weeks later, the
Democrats convened in Chicago, amid now-famous chaos and despair.
That convention was marred by fierce anti-war protests and fiercer
police violence, what Mailer describes as "a continuing five-day
battle in the streets and parks of Chicago."

Robbed of the chance to nominate Robert Kennedy by his assassination
two months before, and against the backdrop of what one senator
described as "gestapo tactics," we watch through Mailer as the party
nominates Vice President Hubert Humphrey rather than any of the
remaining anti-war candidates.

Reading Mailer's masterly account of these pivotal choices can be a
strange and unsettling experience today. Like the hapless victim in
some cheap horror film, the mistakes of both parties seem almost too
obvious to bear, the events that followed from these missteps too
completely unsurprising. Looking back now on that tumultuous year,
the votes cast at those two very different conventions seem to have
sealed our collective fate. Denied the opportunity for a real
referendum on the war, that election doomed us to further agony and
eventual loss in Vietnam, and to a divided nation at home.

But prediction is so much harder than explanation. It is often easy
to connect the dots after the fact. The challenge is knowing where
the next dot is going to come.

A very different drama is playing out this year. Neither party is
going to make the sort of seemingly safe choice it did in 1968: The
establishment candidates lost both nominating races. In 1968, the
formal primary process was inconclusive by design; this year, both
parties endeavored to select a winner as early as possible. What
little suspense there was in Miami Beach and Chicago will be absent
in Minneapolis and Denver.

Most significantly, it seems voters will be given the choice this
November that was denied voters in the 1968 general election. Back
then, a deeply divided Democratic Party was unwilling or unable to
put forward a presidential candidate who opposed the war. This year,
such opposition was a clear requirement for nomination. The movement
against the Vietnam War then seems so much more vocal and passionate
than today's anti-war sentiment, but that movement was also homeless,
outside the fold of either party. Even Mailer looked askance at the
young hordes of "unkempt children" demonstrating in Lincoln Park. But
opinion on the Iraq war does not divide along generational lines.

Tragically, Kennedy's was not the only anti-war voice lost to
political assassination in 1968 - Martin Luther King Jr. had also
been shot just a few months before. In his last sermon at Ebenezer
Baptist Church, King talked about how he would like to be described
at his funeral. He asked to be remembered as someone who gave his
life serving others, who tried to feed the hungry and clothe the
naked, but also as a man who "tried to be right on the war question."

For the most part, King did not get his final wish. Although he is
firmly established as a household name in America and beyond, he is
remembered almost exclusively for his work to end American apartheid
and not for his fervent opposition to the Vietnam War. And as with
Kennedy, somehow even King's moral authority and stirring rhetoric
were not enough to bring the Democratic Party with him on that issue.

The country has come a long way since Phillips received those few
symbolic votes in 1968. This year, Barack Obama will become the first
African American to accept a major party's nomination. He, too, is
staking his reputation on being right on the war. But unlike
Phillips, King, Kennedy and those thousands of Chicago protesters,
Obama has the Democratic Party behind him on the war question.

If 1968 has anything to teach us now, it is the importance of forging
and maintaining this consensus. The disastrous Chicago convention,
degenerating into open street warfare just outside the convention
halls, left the Democrats in disarray, and that disarray proved no
match for the Republicans' organization and discipline. The question
now is whether the Democrats this year can unify as they did not in
1968 and whether, offered a clear choice at last, the American people
will finally vote against an ill-advised and ignoble war.

Prediction is hard, but it looks as if they will. As Mailer wrote in
his closing lines: "We may yet win."
--

Dan Zigmond is a contributing editor at Tricycle: the Buddhist
Review. He lives in Menlo Park. E-mail him at books@sfchronicle.com.

.

You don't have to burn bras anymore

You don't have to burn bras anymore

http://www.dallasnews.com/sharedcontent/dws/dn/opinion/points/stories/DN-sidman_24edi.ART.State.Edition1.4de5d86.html

by Jessica Sidman
August 24, 2008

Iraq veteran Brandon Friedman gazes around the Margarita Ranch and laughs.

"Isn't this crazy? Isn't this messed up?" the 30-year-old asks me.
"This country is at war. It's fighting a two-front war. Today. Look around."

I look: Two well-dressed women are laughing over chips and salsa in a
booth to his right. A young couple and two businessmen are happily
munching away on either side.

"It doesn't touch anybody," Mr. Friedman says. Surely it wasn't like
this during the Vietnam War. No, not in the '60s That was the time
when things happened. A time when young people really cared.

Right?

It's true, my generation does not remember the '60s, but lately,
history seems to be repeating itself.

The pundits have declared Iraq the new Vietnam, Barack Obama the new
Robert Kennedy, and "Where were you on 9-11?" the new "Where were you
when JFK was assassinated?"

I've heard the lore from my parents and teachers: The '60s were a
time of revolutions. Political revolutions. Cultural revolutions.
Music revolutions. Sexual revolutions.

And while the baby boomers often accuse my generation of apathy or
laziness, we are leading a quiet revolution of our own. It's not
happening in the streets with megaphones and chanting crowds. We're
not burning bras or draft cards. But we are making ourselves heard.
We are connecting with more people than ever before. And it's all
happening via the Internet.

My parents were young teenagers in the 1960s. My dad and my mom's
older brother had high draft numbers, so they never had to go to
Vietnam. But my mom says everything in that time period revolved
around the war. After all, they all shared the same risk of being
drafted – or at least knew someone who already had been.

As for me, Mr. Friedman is one of the first Iraq vets I've ever met.
And the war began more than five years ago.

Plus, I sought him out specifically because he is a veteran, just as
I sought out many other young people across the city to get their
perspectives on our generation.

But the difference between now and then is not just the draft.
Anti-establishment was engrained in the culture. The baby boomers
were mad at the government. They were mad at their straight-laced
parents. They were mad at the military industrial complex.

Millennials trust people over 30. We do not really care about
sticking it to The Man. Heck, I hope The Man will give me a job.

But that doesn't mean we don't want to change the world, too.

If there's any political movement today that even remotely resembles
those of the '60s, it's young people's support for Barack Obama. So
on a recent evening on Lower Greenville, I visited a crowd of young
adults gathered in Zubar for the Dallas County Young Democrat's
monthly general body meeting.

Sipping wine and Coors Lights in the trendy high-ceilinged bar, they
listened as a panel of young Democrats mapped out a plan to unify Gen
Y for the November election.

Today's young activists have studied the numbers (one in 100 door
hangars are effective). They understand the psychology (visualizing
the voting experience will make people more likely to vote). And they
plan to tackle the 2008 election with calculated strategy, not anger.

They are also poised to do it in a big way. About 64 percent of 18-
to 24-year-olds said they "definitely will be voting" this November,
according to a recent poll by Harvard University's Institute of
Politics. If they stick to their word, they will surpass the record
52 percent that voted in 1972, the first year 18-year-olds could vote.

That impact will be made much differently than it was in the past.
Young activists politically engage their peers at rooftop pool
parties, happy hours and pub crawls. They reach out through e-mails,
Web sites and Facebook. And they've learned that the message is less
important than the messenger.

"When we look at it, we're wondering, where's that fire? Where's the
passion in our generation?" says 18-year-old Rebecca Drapkin.
"Because we have people who care, but we don't have people who are
burning bras."

The reason, says 26-year-old Levar Thomas, is that Millennials grew
up in the "Me" decades – the '80s and '90s. The economy was good, and
our parents spoiled us.

"There are a lot of people – a lot of friends that I know – who would
love to be more active, but they also want to be successful and they
want to drive Mercedeses," Mr. Levar says.

I was thinking more along the lines of a Porsche. Hybrid, of course.

But the truth is that I see my peers becoming more communally-minded.
For every one of my friends making money in investment banking,
there's another in Teach for America.

And when we take on the world, it will be with iPhone and a MacBook in hand.

"It doesn't seem as radical to pour your heart out into a blog, but
at the same time, everybody's reading that," says David de la Fuente, 18.

Back at the Margarita Ranch, that's what Mr. Friedman says he is
banking on. Like the Vietnam veterans before him, he came back
disillusioned with the war he fought in Iraq.

Now, he blogs full time about issues concerning veterans at
VetVoice.org. He is also the national vice president for
VoteVets.org, a site that aims to help veterans get elected to public office.

"I don't think people have changed," Mr. Friedman says. "I just think
the technology has changed. It's easier to protest from your computer
screen than it is to actually get a marker out and make a poster and
go out and protest."

Easier, and maybe more effective. Stick that to The Man.
--

Jessica Sidman is a Dallas Morning News staff writer. Her e-mail
address is jsidman@dallasnews.com.

Lines From A Mined Mind - The Words Of John Trudell

Book Review:
Lines From A Mined Mind - The Words Of John Trudell
by John Trudell

http://blogcritics.org/archives/2008/08/21/165351.php

Written by Richard Marcus
Published August 21, 2008

What do you see when you look out your door? Do you see a street in a
neighbourhood with cars, roads, houses, shops, apartments, and people
going about their business? Or do you see occupied territory full of
things that don't belong, cluttering up the landscape and despoiling
the environment? Two people can look at the same thing and see two
completely different things, it all depends on your perspective. One
person's normalcy is another person's hell.

Look at what we accept as normal: famine, war, pestilence, and death.
The four horsemen of the apocalypse have been among us for centuries
but we've been too blind to see them. What would happen if the
apocalypse came and nobody noticed? Guess what - it's happening
everyday and you haven't noticed yet. What? You don't believe me do
you - you think I'm full of shit and crazy don't you? According to
our society the viewpoint I've just expressed is crazy and full of
shit because it doesn't accept the agreed upon version, or vision, or
normalcy.

If you're going to read John Trudell's book of poetry and song
lyrics, Lines From A Mined Mind - The Words Of John Trudell,
published by Fulcrum Books, you better be prepared to have your
preconceived notions of how the world works challenged. First of all,
he has spent the past forty years as a resistance fighter on behalf
of his people, the Santee Sioux, and the authority you accept as a
government are in his eyes an occupying power. It was from his
great-grandparents that we stole the land on which we have built our
neighbourhoods, and against whom our governments conducted a campaign
of genocide in order to deal with the "Indian Problem". A history
like that is enough to give anybody a jaundiced eye when it comes to
looking at the world around you, but Trudell has also suffered
horrible personal tragedy.

He was a spokesperson for the all tribes occupation of Alcatraz
Island by Native Americans that lasted from 1969 to 1971 and
subsequently joined the American Indian Movement (AIM). He was
chairman of AIM from 1973-79, but following a mysterious house fire
that killed his wife, children and mother in law he resigned. To this
day the cause of the fire has never been discovered, but considering
his position, and the animosity that surrounded AIM in those days
(and that continues to this day) there will always remain the
distinct possibility that the fire was set deliberately. After that,
Trudell began writing, and since 1983 he has released eleven
recordings of his music, and toured around North America performing
and giving readings of his work.

Lines From A Mined Mind is the first time an exhaustive collection of
his writing has been gathered into one publication. For those of you
not familiar with Trudell's work, he primarily wrote blues and blues
based rock and roll, but more importantly his lyrics dealt with
issues that barely anybody was - or is - singing about. It's not only
that he wrote about issues affecting Native Americans, but he also
wrote about the effect the world we live in has on a human being's
spirit; how we have allowed ourselves to be shaped and moulded to
such an extent that we no longer notice that we are being manipulated.

In his introduction, titled "From Somewhere Inside My Head," Trudell
outlines the precept behind "Mined Mind":
Industrial tech no logic civilization is the mining process

The intelligence of each arriving human generation

Is programmed to perceive the reality that meets the needs

Of the industrial society each human generation arrives in

The human beings are individually and collectively mined

Society conditions so that we can be of most use to it, but of course
as with every industrial operation there is waste product. In our
case that ends up being "the fears doubts and insecurity/That affects
the human beings perceptional reality in such a way/The human being
becomes separated from the being at the expense of being/Resulting in
human beings viewing life through their fears and inabilities."

Now, although Trudell has made it cleat that this is how he views the
way the world works, he doesn't lay any claims to being superior to
the rest of us because of this belief. This is just the backdrop
against which all of our struggles to be true to ourselves are played
out against. In his poems and song lyrics throughout the book he
talks about his struggles to overcome those obstacles. Of course, his
path is made even more complicated by the fact that he is also a
member of a group of people considered to be a conquered race by the
majority of our society. For most of his life the government that
supposedly is there to protect and serve him, has done its best to
deny him his rights as a human being.

What's really wonderful about his poems/lyrics is that they don't
just complain about something, or sound like the usual victim's
lament. He demands that his readers think about things and poses
questions that are designed to try and make you see how his world
view came about. In the poem "To God" he asks a few questions about
some things that he's found confusing: "About these Christians/they
claim to be from your nation/but man you should see the things they
do/all the while blaming it on you". The poem then lists a litany of
offences that have been carried out in God's name and then continues
"We do not mean to be disrespectful...our people have their own
ways/we never even heard of you until not long ago/Your
representatives spoke magnificent things of you which we were willing
to believe/But from the way they acted/We know you and we were being deceived."

Naturally, as you would expect from a man who has fought for the
rights of his people for forty years there are quite a few political
poems and songs. However he is more than a one issue person, and
writes about everything: from the joy children can bring, our
responsibilities to each other as human beings, spirituality, and the
relationship between men and women. In fact, some of the poems he's
written about men and women are the most honest I've read by a man
about that subject.

In "Shadow Over Sisterland" he has written probably the strongest
denunciation of men's mistreatment of women since John Lennon's
"Woman Is The Nigger Of The World":
There's a shadow over sisterland

With a Smith & Thomas

Pointed at her head...

Money and authority

Have their own way of talking


...Tethers of chains

Tethers of jewels

Economic bondage

Runs by those rules.

Everything about our society; religion, laws, and even the way the
economy runs are geared towards keeping men dominant over women. When
you start to consider some of the more regressive laws that have been
passed in recent years, ones that have resulted in women going to
jail for refusing to have caesarian sections during childbirth, you
realize that you might not like the picture he's painting, but that
doesn't stop it from being true.

John Trudell is an articulate and intelligent poet and lyricist whose
words might confound you because they challenge your vision of the
world. You might not like his perspective, and there's a good chance
you won't agree with it, yet it you won't be able to deny his
sincerity. Because it dares you to look at our society through the
eyes of those whose backs its been built on, it's not a pretty
picture, but it's a lot more realistic than anything you'll read or
see for years to come. For as he makes clear, whether we know it or
not, we're all victims of the same machinations.

.

Indian activists assert priorities before DNC

Indian activists assert priorities before DNC

http://www.indiancountry.com/content.cfm?id=1096418016

August 20, 2008
by: Carol Berry

DENVER - On the eve of the Democratic National Convention, some
Indian activists are attacking perceived weaknesses in the mainstream
political system on several issues of Native importance, including
energy development and sovereignty.

Among the voices of dissent are those of the American Indian Movement
of Colorado, which cites the government's failure to protect Indian
sacred sites, lands and resources against unwanted intrusion and an
unwillingness by Democrats to tackle such long-standing grievances as
Leonard Peltier's continuing imprisonment.

Glenn Morris, a Colorado AIM leader, said he does not know all the
inner details of the party's platform process, but he noted that
''what we do know is that the Democrats have talked about sovereignty
without committing to the sensitive protection of sovereignty.''

His comments were made in an interview when he was asked to talk
about AIM's view of top Native issues and concerns in light of the
upcoming convention, Democratic Party priorities, and the constraints
of the system in general.

Morris, a professor in the political science department at the
University of Colorado - Denver, has been an outspoken critic of some
elected officials and educators for their stance on American history,
the commemoration of Christopher Columbus, and such issues as gold
mining in indigenous areas.

''When you look at the image of [Illinois Sen. Barack] Obama, who is
supposed to be this new, progressive man of color - what he does
leave out is Native people.

''His book, 'The Audacity of Hope,' says America can come together
because it is unlike Europe with its tensions and rivalries, while
America was peacefully settled without much conflict - what country
is this man talking about? He talked about being at the foot of the
Rockies [when visiting Denver], where civilization was brought to the
frontier. He invisibilizes Indian people.''

Morris said he feels there are a number of things the Democratic
Party should be focused on in Indian country, among them the amount
of the settlement in Cobell v. Kempthorne over government
mismanagement of Indian trust monies.

''There needs to be clear and proactive action on the trust fund case
- when the federal government of the United States admitted that they
had probably lost at least $40 billion and then offered to settle the
case for that amount at one point, and then a federal judge came back
on Aug. 7 settling the amount at $455 million after 125 years of
stealing Indian resources - and on the very same day, a federal judge
granted $400 million in damages to shareholders of Qwest in the
stock-fraud case.

''Justice will not be found for Indian people in the federal courts,
and so it's dependent upon a progressive policy agenda from the
Democrats, but history doesn't lend us much optimism in that
regard,'' said Morris, who is of Shawnee descent.

Other Native resources may be in jeopardy in the rush to develop new
sources of energy, he said, because ''talk of energy independence
means more pressure on Native nations to develop the resource,
whether they want to or not.''

Although nuclear energy is touted as a way to energy independence,
''60 percent of uranium reserves are on Native peoples' land. And if
push comes to shove, and the United States wants the resource, will
Natives have anything to say about it?''

Even though the Navajo Nation tribal council has passed a resolution
banning uranium mining on tribal lands, Morris noted that under the
administration of former Democratic President Jimmy Carter, ''tribes
that stood in the way of implementing a comprehensive U.S. energy
policy were threatened with termination.''

''Democrats need to be sensitive to that - there may be Native
nations that don't want to develop uranium or coal or degrade their
water resource,'' he said.

A related issue is the protection of sacred sites under pressure from
various kinds of development, he said, including the San Francisco
Peaks in Arizona, where a ski area/sacred sites controversy recently
was heard in federal appellate court.

''Last Friday, once again, the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals denied
the petition of over a dozen Indian nations in the Southwest to
protect one of the most important sacred sites in the United States,
so what Native people need to hear from the Democrats are commitments
not only to Indian society and self-determination, but a commitment
to the protection of sacred sites, a just resolution of trust fund
cases, and a revisitation of respect for treaty rights.''

AIM plans a presence at the Aug. 25 Freedom March and Rally for Human
Rights and Political Prisoners because, he said, former President
Bill Clinton promised to grant clemency to Peltier before he left
office, but ''left a clemency petition on his desk to go to the
inauguration of George W. Bush.''

Peltier was convicted and sentenced to two life terms in 1977 for the
murder of two FBI agents in a shootout on the Pine Ridge Reservation,
but the circumstances of his trial and conviction have remained a
matter of international scrutiny and dissent.

Any other plans by Colorado AIM in connection with the DNC remain
under discussion, Morris said.

.

1968 Convention Rocker To Kick Out Jams In Denver

1968 Convention Rocker To Kick Out Jams In Denver

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/gregory-daurer/1968-convention-rocker-to_b_120117.html

by Gregory Daurer
Posted August 20, 2008

Guitarist and songwriter Wayne Kramer will be playing once again --
unofficially -- as part of a Democratic National Convention.

The first time occurred in 1968 when Kramer belonged to the legendary
Detroit proto-punk krewe the MC5 (which released the records Kick Out
The Jams, Back in the USA, and High Time). Back then, the group
served as the musical extension of poet John Sinclair's radical White
Panther Party. Kramer recalls the violence that descended on Lincoln
Park in Chicago on that August day, choppers hovering overhead as the
MC5 finished their protest set against the Vietnam War at the Festival of Life.

This August 27, Kramer will join Jello Biafra (ex-Dead Kennedys),
Rage Against The Machine and other radically identified performers in
Denver at the Tent State Music Festival to End the War at the Denver Coliseum.

Sometime between the convention years of 1968 and 2008, Kramer
watched the MC5 disintegrate and spiraled into addiction. He wound up
in prison, reentered the underground music scene revered as one of
the godfathers of punk rock, released a series of searing and
thoughtful solo records (The Hard Stuff, Dangerous Madness, Adult
World), became a respected -- and sober -- part of the LA music
scene, and has even reformed the MC5 with the band's remaining living
members. Kramer, 60, also works on addiction and recovery issues and
is an activist for health care for musicians.

Kramer recently completed a jazz score, Lexington, for an upcoming
film, The Narcotic Farm, about the defunct Kentucky prison that
housed noted jazz musicians and other addicts. He's outspoken in his
opposition to the federal War on Drugs, which wages its fight through
incarceration instead of treatment. Kramer says, "It doesn't get
talked about, but this is a crime against humanity. If I had my way,
there are certain leaders who would be in The Hague for crimes
against the American people."

What's changed for Kramer in the forty years since the Chicago
debacle of '68? Why protest in Denver today?

I called up Citizen Wayne (to borrow the title of one of his
recordings) to find out where his head's at these days.

Why are you participating in the Tent State Music Festival to End the War?

Wayne Kramer: It's a tradition. Every forty years I protest the
Democrats. No seriously: there's some historical significance for me,
having taken an activist stance as a musician in 1968 to protest an
illegal war; and then, today, to find myself in the same situation
with another illegal war, and be part of a generation that says "This
has to stop now." My sense of participating in Democracy requires it.

Do you support Barack Obama or are you skeptical of him?

I support Barack Obama. But Barack Obama cannot save us. We have to
save us. Any change that's going to happen to move us forward on
social justice issues always starts from the ground up. You know, it
will be helpful to not have to battle as hard as we have with the
Bush administration. I think Barack Obama shares a great many of my
ideas about change, but he's not going to be our savior. It's really
a matter of people themselves taking action in their own
neighborhoods, at the own jobs, in the own homes, with their own
friends, their own co-workers, to move us into the future, a more just world.

What do you think the role of the musician is in the cultural dialogue?

I think there are two. One is as a messenger and as an observer. A
musician can write a song. And you can tell a story in that song. And
if you identify with that story and the sentiment of that story and I
identify with it, then we've met together. And that creates a sense
of community: that we all met together in Bob Dylan lyrics, that we
all shared an idea. The other is the role of activist; then, not only
can I report on the action, I can take action myself.

What are your recollections of playing during the 1968 Democratic
National Convention in Chicago?

There was no stage, there was no flatbed truck, there was no sound
system, there were no porta-toilets, there was no electricity. We had
to run an electrical cord from the hot dog stand to power our gear.
We played on the ground in the middle of Lincoln Park in Chicago with
the crowd all around us sitting on the ground, in the back standing.
I'm going to guess there were maybe 3,000 young people there. And it
was very tense. The Chicago police had been very aggressive and very
intimidating all day, and even though it was a rock concert and we
were the only band to play, it didn't feel like a rock concert. There
was a dark cloud over the day because we knew the likelihood of
people being hurt was great.

Did you witness some of the violence?

Yeah, as soon as we finished playing, the police started attacking
the crowd: these waves of blue-helmeted club-swinging Chicago police officers.

Listen, some of those young people in the crowd weren't unprepared
for that, and many people were completely happy to give back as good
as they got. Of course, [attacking the police] was a losing cause.

That must have been a heavy scene, made even heavier by the hash
brownies the band had been eating.

Yeah, we were pretty stoned. But, you know when the police start
beating people -- that can ruin your buzz.

What's a good working definition of the MC5's famous injunction "Kick
out the jams."

If you're going to accomplish something, it requires full measures.
You have to make a total commitment to the effort involved.
Half-an-effort doesn't get you half-a-result; half-an-effort gets you
nothing. To accomplish something, you have to be in it with both
feet. You have to come early, and you have to stay late. The song
doesn't say, "Slide out the jams." It doesn't say, "Stroll out the
jams." It says, "Kick out the jams!" It means give it 100%.

.

Gilbert Shelton Freak Brothers Signing

Gilbert Shelton Freak Brothers Signing @ Gosh!

http://playlouder.com/event/94/gilbert-shelton-freak-brothers-siging-gosh-13-sep-2008

20 Aug 2008

Gosh! Comics, in association with Knockabout Books, are pleased to
help celebrate the release of the Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers
Omnibus with a London signing by Freaks creator and counter-culture
legend Gilbert Shelton. Mr Shelton will be signing copies of the new,
complete collection at Gosh! Comics, 39 Great Russell St, London WC1B
3NZ on Saturday 13th September, 2008, 2pm-4pm. Those who cannot
attend are welcome to contact us to reserve a signed copy.

The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers Omnibus represents the definitive
collection of the definitive underground comic: 624 pages (including
224 in full colour) for only £20. The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers
are legend; published in 15 languages, with world-wide sales of over
40 million comics and countless items of merchandise, it's the
seamless mix of slapstick and satire at the heart of these strips
that have kept them so vital for the past 40 years.

Signings by the Paris-based Shelton are few and far between, so don't
miss this opportunity to meet a true comic (in every sense of the word) genius.

Born in 1940, Gilbert Shelton's first venture into the world of comic
art was doing strips for Boy Scout publications when he was in the
Explorer Scouts at school. A strange road, then to 1968, when after
numerous rock poster designs and various contributions to underground
comix with his earliest character, Wonder Warthog, he created The
Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers.

In 1969 Shelton and some friends from Texas moved to San Francisco to
set up Rip Off Press, from where Freak Brothers strips were soon
syndicated or "borrowed" by a host of American underground newspapers
and magazines. The first collection was published in 1971 and has
since been joined by thirteen further Freak Brothers adventures, all
now collected together along with all-new material in the complete
Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers Omnibus.

"Gilbert Shelton is as near as comics have come to producing a
natural comedic genius of the same stature as a Chaplin or a Tati.
With the Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers he has created a hilarious and
unlikely sibling trio as timeless in their appeal as the Marx
Brothers. He is truly one of the greatest and most sublimely funny
talents that the comic medium has to offer." – Alan Moore

"The amazing thing about Shelton's definitive underground comic
strips is that you can still turn on, tune in, drop out and laugh,
which is fabulous and furry indeed." – Martin Rowson, The Independent

"The fully realised vision of a master story-teller and social
critic." – The Comics Journal

For more details on the signings, please contact:

Gosh! Comics, 39 Great Russell St, London WC1B 3NZ
ph: 0207 636 1011, email info@goshlondon.com


.

Prague Spring's End: An eyewitness account

Peter Rehak on The Prague Spring's End: An eyewitness account

http://network.nationalpost.com/np/blogs/fullcomment/archive/2008/08/21/peter-rehak-on-the-prague-spring-s-end-an-eyewitness-account.aspx

Posted: August 21, 2008, 11:00 AM by Dan Goldbloom

The date was Aug. 21, 1968. It was a Tuesday night. As I did on most
other nights that summer, I joined three of my journalist colleagues
to listen to the day's last newscast from Radio Prague. We gathered
after midnight in a guest room at the once venerable Alcron Hotel
that served as the unofficial press headquarters for the Prague Spring.

The station signed off for the night shortly after 1 a.m. We settled
down with a round of gin and tonics, reassured that we had not missed
any new developments in the startling story that had been unfolding
in Czechoslovakia for months ­ the attempt by communist party chief
Alexander Dubcek to reshape the country's orthodox political model
into "socialism with a human face" that became known as the Prague Spring.

I was sent to Prague to reopen the bureau of The Associated Press
news agency that had been closed since the 1950s when the last
correspondent, William N. Oatis, was jailed as a spy. It was an
emotional assignment for me. I was born in Czechoslovakia but moved
to Montreal with my family after the communist coup. Since I did not
need a translator, I was key to the late night news monitoring.

Just before 2 a.m. we heard the whining sound of aircraft landing in
quick succession, unusual for that time of night. I made a feeble
joke that it was a late charter from Dubrovnik, a favourite vacation
spot for Czechs, but we all knew that it was more likely the
beginning of the end of the Dubcek reforms.

I hit the "on" button on the portable radio and just heard the
phrase, "An important announcement from the Central Committee ... "
before the station went dead. I sprinted to the hotel desk. An
agitated clerk sent me to the hotel garage where Radio Prague
continued broadcasting over a land line. The rest of the announcement
said that Soviet and other Warsaw Pact forces had crossed the
country's frontiers and citizens were asked not to take action
against the invading forces.

I filed a bulletin to AP's European headquarters in London over the
hotel telex. It moved on the AP wire at 2:09 a.m. European time. (I
later found out that the bulletin was handed to Dean Rusk, the U.S.
secretary of state, at a televised hearing about Vietnam.)

The reforms started by Dubcek, two decades before anyone had heard of
perestroika and glasnost in Moscow, were indeed startling. Dubcek
declared that he wanted to build "a new intensely democratic model of
a socialist society, which would fully correspond to Czechoslovak
conditions." The aims, his "action program" said, "cannot be achieved
along the old paths which have long been obsolete and harsh methods,
which are always dragging us back."

The new regime lifted press censorship, sent Soviet advisors home and
even allowed talk of opposition parties. For the first time in years,
the borders opened. Czechoslovak citizens were allowed to travel
abroad, and foreigners streamed into Prague.

For nearly eight months, Prague was transformed from a drab Communist
capital into a city bustling with life and optimism. People were
smiling and hopeful. The hotels were jammed with Westerners and the
nightlife was hopping.

The unfettered press titillated its eager readers with tale after
tale of crimes and corruption by party officials and the gory details
of forced confessions during the Stalinist show trials of the 1950,
including an account of how the ashes of those executed were dumped
by work crews on icy roads. There were interviews with former
political prisoners and the widows of the executed. Members of the
new regime talked enthusiastically of economic reform and roundly
criticized the leaders they replaced.

Clearly, the reforms went too far for the other members of the Warsaw
Pact. A public letter in July, signed by Soviet party chief Leonid
Brezhnev, Walter Ulbricht, the goateed Saxon who had built the Berlin
Wall, Wladyslaw Gomulka of Poland, Janos Kadar of Hungary and Todor
Zhivkov of Bulgaria, accused the reformers of unleashing
"anti-socialist and revisionist forces" in Czechoslovakia and
stressed that what was going on in Prague was "absolutely unacceptable."

Dubcek and the reformers were summoned to a meeting in East Germany,
the first of several. At the last get-together, on Aug. 3 in the
Slovak capital of Bratislava, the two sides hammered out an agreement
to rein in the reforms that Dubcek was later accused of not honouring.
To add muscle to the complaints, Soviet forces entered the country in
May to hold Warsaw Pact manoeuvres. They withdrew after the
Bratislava agreement, only to return on Aug. 21.

It was morning before the first tanks appeared downtown. The
population was incensed. People took to the streets, changed roadside
and street signs around to confuse the troops. A network of
clandestine radio stations and underground newspapers sprung up.
"Russians Go Home" graffiti was soon visible all over town. The
clandestine stations co-ordinated the protests, including a general
strike. Spread throughout the country, the stations were the main
source of news.

The panicky troops opened fire and killed at least four people
outside the Radio Prague building before they occupied it and shut it
down. The troops were mostly young conscripts and they had been told
that they would be welcomed as liberators. Faced by hostile crowds,
some of them fired and around 60 people were killed in incidents
throughout the country.

Dubcek and his reformers were arrested while meeting at the Central
Committee building and were flown to Moscow.

The Russians' thinly veiled excuse for the invasion was that they
were responding to a call for help by the "true communists" on the
Central Committee. They were quickly identified as Alois Indra,
Drahomir Kolder and Vasil Bilak and branded as traitors by the
pro-Dubcek public.

Moscow was taken aback by the popular protest and the Soviet leaders
prevailed on the country's president, Ludvik Svoboda, a war hero, to
fly to Moscow where he secured the release of Dubcek and the other
reformers. With the odds stacked against them, the Czechs agreed to
abandon the reforms and to the permanent stationing of Soviet forces
in the country.

Dubcek was replaced by the old-line communist Gustav Husak as party
leader. Dubcek was sent to Turkey as ambassador and eventually
expelled from the party. He was given a job managing a forestry
department motor pool in Bratislava.

He re-emerged in public before a cheering crowd in 1989 when he stood
on a balcony with Vaclav Havel, the dissident playwright who was to
become the country's first post-communist president. Dubcek died in a
car crash on Nov. 7, 1992.

The Dubcek reforms were the biggest upheaval in the communist world
since the 1956 Hungarian uprising. But Czechoslovakia's
post-communist generations regard it as a squabble among communists.
Except for a small but influential group of dissidents who signed a
human rights declaration called "Charter 77," political life in the
country remained dormant until the Soviet empire crumbled in 1989.
Havel recently told the New York Times that the invasion laid bare
communism's incompatibility with freedom and "rid the Western left of
their illusions."
--

Peter Rehak was The Associated Press correspondent in Prague when the
Soviet Union and other Warsaw Pact countries invaded Czechoslovakia
on Aug. 21, 1968.

.

''1968: Art and Politics in Chicago'' exhibit

DePaul University Art Museum Opens Season Sept. 18 with ''1968: Art
and Politics in Chicago'' Exhibit

http://media-newswire.com/release_1071433.html

The exhibit, which runs through Nov. 23, features the work of
international luminaries such as Andy Warhol, Jim Dine and Claes
Oldenburg as well as local artists such as Ellen Lanyon, Don Baum and
Gladys Nilsson. Curated by Patricia Kelly, an assistant professor of
art history at DePaul, the exhibition brings together 42 works
created in response to the turbulent events surrounding the
Democratic National Convention in Chicago in 1968, where rioting
erupted after police and Vietnam War protesters clashed.

(Media-Newswire.com) - The political and artistic climate of 1968
will be explored on the 40th anniversary of that epic year in an art
exhibit titled "1968: Art and Politics in Chicago," which opens Sept.
18 at the DePaul University Art Museum, 2350 N. Kenmore Ave., Chicago.

The exhibit, which runs through Nov. 23, features the work of
international luminaries such as Andy Warhol, Jim Dine and Claes
Oldenburg as well as local artists such as Ellen Lanyon, Don Baum and
Gladys Nilsson. Curated by Patricia Kelly, an assistant professor of
art history at DePaul, the exhibition brings together 42 works
created in response to the turbulent events surrounding the
Democratic National Convention in Chicago in 1968, where rioting
erupted after police and Vietnam War protesters clashed.

The show kicks off with an opening reception from 5 p.m. to 7 p.m.
Sept. 18 at the museum. Artwork featured in the exhibition ranges
from Barnett Newman's formidable minimalist steel sculpture titled
"Lace Curtain for Mayor Daley" to Ellen Lanyon's image of Pres.
Lyndon B. Johnson conceived as a giant puppet. In conjunction with
the exhibit, a series of films will also be shown and a symposium
will be held in October. All are free and open to the public.

"The exhibition explores the response of the Chicago arts community
to the 1968 Democratic convention 40 years later," Kelly said. "With
the United States again a nation at war, the questions posed by the
exhibit regarding the social responsibility of artists and the
relationship between politics and art are crucial and timely."

Museum Director Louise Lincoln said it is the first time that many of
the works have been seen publicly since 1968. "They make visible the
passion and tragedy of that moment in time, one of the most important
and transformative in recent American history."

In conjunction with the exhibit, a series of films and documentaries
about 1968 also will be shown. All events will be held at the DePaul
Art Museum.

• August 1968: Chicago, Mass Media and the Age of Dissent, 6 p.m.
Tuesday, Oct. 7. "The Right to Dissent: A Press Conference" ( The
Film Group, 1969 ); "Social Confrontation: The Battle of Michigan
Avenue" ( The Film Group, 1969 ); "Law and Order versus Dissent" (
The Film Group, 1969 ); and "What Trees Do They Plant?" ( Henry
Ushijima Productions for the City of Chicago, 1968 ). This series is
presented courtesy of the Chicago Film Archives.

• Oppositional Media: Antiwar Protest and Experimental Film, 6 p.m.
Tuesday, Oct. 14. Carolee Schneemann's "Viet-Flakes" ( 1966 ); Joyce
Wieland's "Rat Life and Diet in North America" ( 1968 ); "Week of the
Angry Arts," "For Life," and selections from "Against the War" ( 1967 ).

• The Personal is Political: Vietnam, the Women's Movement and Black
Power, 6 p.m. Tuesday, Oct. 21. Films: Norman Fruchter and John
Douglas' "Summer '68" ( Newsreel, 1969 ); "Yippie" ( 1968 );
"Jeannette Rankin Brigade" ( Newsreel, 1968 ); Sheila Page's
"Testing, Testing, How Do You Do?" ( 1969 ); and "Black Power – We're
Goin' Survive America" ( 1968 ).

• "After 1968: Art, Politics, History" symposium, Friday, Oct. 24 and
Saturday, Oct. 25 ( times and speakers to be determined. Visit the
museum Web site for more details ). The symposium uses the exhibition
as a point of departure to consider the relationship between art and
politics, but more broadly defined and without such regional
specificity. It is intended to bring together scholars whose work
engages the complex and often contradictory ways in which artists
negotiate the socio-political sphere.

This exhibition and film series are sponsored by a grant from the
Terra Foundation for American Art as part of its "American Art
American City" program, a multi-year initiative that encourages
residents and visitors to explore the diverse array of American art
on display in museums, galleries and public spaces in Chicago.

The DePaul Art Museum is open Monday through Thursday from 11 a.m. to
5 p.m.; Friday from 11 a.m. to 7 p.m.; and Saturday and Sunday from
noon to 5 p.m. For more information about "1968: Art and Politics in
Chicago" or other museum programs and exhibitions, please call
773/325-7506 or visit http://museums.depaul.edu/artwebsite/.

Also, DePaul's Center for Latino Research will mount a photo exhibit
titled "Radicals in Black and Brown: Palante, People's Power and
Common Cause in the Black Panthers and the Young Lords Organization,"
from Sept. 19 through Jan. 12, 2009, in the Haber Lounge located in
the John T. Richardson Library, 2350 N. Kenmore Ave., Chicago. An
opening reception is scheduled for 6 p.m. Sept. 19. For more
information, please call 773/325-7316 or e-mail clr@depaul.edu.

Media Contact:

Deborah Snow Humiston
dsnowhum@depaul.edu
( 312 ) 362-8508

.

Abbie Hoffman still influential today

[2 items]

Abbie Hoffman still influential today

http://blog.pennlive.com/high-school-life/2008/08/abbie_hoffman_still_influentia.html

by CarrieCHHS
August 21, 2008

Out of all the men involved in the trials of the Chicago Seven, Abbie
Hoffman is perhaps the most well-known and influential of the group.

Born in Worcester, Massachusetts on November 30,1936, Hoffman
graduated in 1959 from Brandeis University and went on to receive a
master's degree from University of California, Berkeley. Soon after,
Hoffman returned to work in Worcester as a psychologist in a state
hospital before beginning his political activism working for the
Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee.

Hoffman was known for his comical and theatrical tactics used to
protest the Vietnam War. He organized 50,000 people to attempt to use
psychosis to levitate the Pentagon in order to end the war. Another
act involved Hoffman's friends as they threw fistfuls of fake money
to traders in the gallery of the New York Stock Exchange and watched
them scramble to grab the money.

Hoffman began his most influential work as the leader of the Youth
International Party (YIP) in 1966. The group was one of the main
anti-Vietnam organizations, and in 1968, they traveled to the
Democratic National Convention in Chicago to protest.

It was there that Hoffman was arrested and tried for conspiracy as
part of the infamous Chicago Seven. Although he was sentenced to five
years in prison and a $5,000 fine, the ruling was later overturned
and none of the protesters served any jail time.

In 1973, Hoffman was arrested for possession of cocaine with the
intention to sell. Convinced that he was set up, Hoffman jumped bail,
assumed the identity "Barry Freed," and lived underground until he
surrendered himself to the police in 1980. After serving a prison
term of one year, Hoffman continued his activism. His last protest
took place on the campus of the University of Massachusetts, where he
was arrested for trespassing.

Over the years, Abbie Hoffman has influenced American counterculture
society as a famed protestor. Hoffman is also the author of several
radical books, including Steal This Book, which has influenced the
motion picture Steal This Movie, which is essentially an
autobiography of Hoffman's life, Revolution for the Hell of It, and
Soon to be a Major Motion Picture, his autobiography.

On April 12, 1989, Hoffman was found dead in his home in New Hope,
Pennsylvania, the result of an apparent suicide.

--------

Steve Molitz Leads The Agents Of Mayhem In Tribute To Abbie Hoffman

http://www.earvolution.com/2008/08/steve-molitz-leads-agents-of-mayhem-in.asp

Friday, August 22, 2008

Steve Molitz, the keyboardist for Particle and Phil Lesh & Friends,
will be reviving the spirit of Abbie Hoffman this Sunday night at
Spiegelworld, a travelling venue currently set up at New York City's
South Street Seaport. Steal This Ticket! - A Musical Tribute To Abbie
Hoffman will celebrate the 40th anniversary of the anarchist's
crashing of the New York Stock Exchange to throw dollar bills at the
traders from the gallery. It's an act of protest that would be
absolutely unheard of in today's post 9/11 world.

Molitz' Agents of Mayhem come with a fine pedigree for setting crowds
astir. For the night, Molitz will be joined by guitarist Jon
Gutwillig of the Disco Biscuits, DJ Logic and String Cheese
Incident's Michael Travis and Jason Hann. Prior to the Agents' set,
Hann & Travis will perform as EOTO and Logic will work his magic on
the turntables. It'll definitely be a late night but what better late
summer CounterCulture statement can you make than showing up late to
work on Monday . . . that is, if you show up at all.

Molitz will also be part of the Region of Darkness, another jamband
supergroup featuring Stephen Perkins (Jane's Addiction), Josh Clark
(Tea Leaf Green), Steve Jones (ALO, Tea Leaf Green) and Adam Iscove
(Allrise). They will play the ROXY in Los Angeles on October 16 and
Winston's in Ocean Beach, CA on October 17.

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1968 Democratic Convention was a fiasco

1968 Democratic Convention was a fiasco

http://www.chieftain.com/articles/2008/08/25/news/local/doc48b23e5ce65a5418607097.txt

Chicago Mayor Daley wanted to prove his boss title while rebels
wanted to show the American system was repressive.

By PETER STRESCINO
THE PUEBLO CHIEFTAIN
August 24, 2008

Forty years ago, almost everyone got what they wanted out of the 1968
Democratic Convention in Chicago.

Everyone, that is, except the Democratic Party.

Rebellious protesters who were mauled in the streets and parks by
Chicago police gone wild got the reaction they wanted, to show the
world that America was ruled by force, not democracy.

Chicago Mayor Richard Daley got to prove who was boss, smashing the
demonstrators who he considered children of privilege who deserved a
good beating.

And Republicans got what they wanted, proving to the nation that the
Democrats could not only screw up the Vietnam War but couldn't even
manage their own affairs. The Democrats never recovered and Richard
M. Nixon was elected president by a slim margin in November.
Democrats who are holding their convention this week in Denver do not
want to see a repeat of '68.

The 1968 campaign was bizarre, even by the standards of that dark
year. George Romney, a Republican governor of Michigan and father of
current GOP vice-presidential possibility, Mitt Romney, killed his
own presidential bid when he said he had been "brainwashed" by the
military into thinking the Vietnam War was going well.

New York Gov. Nelson Rockefeller was too liberal for a party moving
to the right even after the Barry Goldwater debacle of 1964. So, that
left Nixon, who after serving two terms as vice president under
Dwight Eisenhower in the 1950s had lost a squeaker election for the
White House to John F. Kennedy in 1960.

On the Democratic side, Minnesota Sen. Eugene McCarthy stunned the
party by almost upsetting sitting President Lyndon Baines Johnson in
the New Hampshire primary. A short time later, New York Sen. Robert
Kennedy entered the race. On March 31, LBJ withdrew from a re-election run.

Among the many young counter-culture groups, upsetting the Chicago
convention was an important goal. The Democrats were the architects
of the Vietnam War and as so were the targets of the leftist Students
for a Democratic Society, the National Mobilization Committee to End
the War in Vietnam (MOBE), the Youth International Party (Yippies),
and other young people and older anti-war types who hated liberals,
LBJ and the Democratic Party.

But getting these groups together seemed impossible until Robert
Kennedy was gunned down in early June, two months after Martin Luther
King had been killed in Memphis, Tenn.

Any hope of the non-violence preached by King and echoed by Robert
Kennedy was gone after their violent deaths. Those hoping for chaos,
like Yippie leaders Abbie Hoffman and Jerry Rubin, would get their wish.

LBJ's vice president, Hubert Horatio Humphrey, was the frontrunner
for the nomination. He had not entered a single primary (and of those
who did vote in the apparently worthless exercises, eight in 10 had
voted for peace candidates like Kennedy and McCarthy). McCarthy was
an aloof party outsider who said what was on his mind, as impolitic
and non-phony as a politician could be.

Even before the convention, party loyalist HHH had nailed down the
nomination, and vowed to continue Johnson's failed policies. McCarthy
told his followers to avoid Chicago because his quest was over.

Four Puebloans were at Chicago, serving as delegates. They were Bert
Frantz, Adolf Otterstein, Robert Hernandez and John Rosales.
Otterstein and Rosales are dead and The Chieftain could not find out
anything about Frantz and Hernandez.

Even a Pueblo Chieftain editorial before the convention warned of
trouble and encouraged beefed-up security in Chicago.

The combative Daley had his city departments deny numerous requests
for permits to demonstrate, hold parades and marches. Many historians
believe that by allowing dissent much of the violence that followed
could have been avoided. But instead Daley built barriers all over
the convention areas and hotels, put his large police force on
12-hour shifts, had his cronies in state and federal courts deny
appeals for permits, asked for activation of the Illinois National
Guard and asked for federal troops and undercover police to
essentially do battle with the protesters.

He was spoiling for a fight.

In an interview from Chicago printed in The Chieftain on Sept. 1,
1968, Hernandez blasted Daley.

"I certainly don't think Democrats should have another convention in
Chicago while Richard Daley is mayor," he said. Hernandez said the
Humphrey nomination was ramrodded through, even though he ended up
voting for him, and that Daley was in charge of the convention floor,
not the national party.

As violence occurred on the streets each night of the convention,
held Aug. 26-29, there was much bickering inside the International
Amphitheater. Fifteen states tried to unseat their own delegates, who
were pledged to Humphrey. When denied (Humphrey forces won every
disagreement) the California and New York delegations paraded around
the hall singing "We Shall Overcome." The plank of the party's
platform advocating continuing the war policies of LBJ-HHH defeated
the peace plank by a margin of 3-to-2, with 2,600 delegates voting.

When the fighting peaked outside, Connecticut Sen. Abraham Ribicoff,
at the convention podium, decried "Gestapo tactics in the streets of
Chicago." Daley was caught on camera screaming back, calling Ribicoff
a "Jew SOB."

Daley, who wanted Massachusetts Sen. Ted Kennedy nominated, withheld
118 Illinois delegates until Humphrey reached the total he needed.

Puebloans Hernandez and Otterstein were "Kennedy men," who backed the
senator, who was just 36. Otterstein, according to the paper a fierce
opponent of the war, also backed Sen. George McGovern, who in 1963
became the first senator to come out against U.S. involvement in Vietnam.

In 1968, 500,000 American troops were stationed in Vietnam.

Rosales and Frantz were "Humphrey men," the paper said. They talked
Hernandez into casting his final vote for HHH.

The night Humphrey was nominated, protesters, now numbering about
10,000, headed up Michigan Avenue toward the Amphitheater.

The marchers chanted "The whole world is watching," during the
biggest battle with police. Maybe not the whole world, but the melee
was caught on TV cameras and watched by an estimated 89 million
Americans. Rebel leaders thought the scrap would aid their cause,
enlisting more middle-class youth and workers. Later polling said the
majority of Americans sided with the police, who were seen as
blue-collar defenders fighting affluent, spoiled students and agitators.

There were almost 36,000 police, National Guardsman, soldiers and
other government agents in the area to combat the young rebels, but
not all were in the fight. A suspected one-in-six demonstrators were
undercover government agents, many who were said to spur the
dissidents into fighting, making Daley's goal of confrontation come true.

Puebloan Bill Hoke, now 76, was stationed at Fort Hood, Texas, in
1968. He had spent most of 1967 in Vietnam, but the career Army man
said he was not political when it came to the war.

"They deployed us to the Great Lakes Naval Station," Hoke recalled
earlier this month. "We trained in riot control and learned how to
make a wedge.

"I was appointed to be a sniper, in the middle of the wedge. If
gunfire erupted, I was told to shoot into the crowd. My lieutenant
told me if I did not fire, I'd be court-martialed."

Hoke, who earned five battle stars while in Vietnam, said he was nervous.

"I didn't want to shoot Americans. I did not want to fire on my people."

Luckily, Hoke and the Army troops were not called on during the convention.

That night, the air was so filled with tear gas that some seeped into
Humphrey's suite at the Hilton. Chicago cops also entered the hotel
and, marching up to McCarthy's suites, entered and beat on several of
his campaign staff, who had thrown office equipment at the police
from hotel windows.

To the delight of both sides of the fight, 17 reporters were beaten
in the riot.

Almost 600 people were arrested that week. Reports said that 119
police were treated for injuries (mostly hand and knuckle injuries)
and 100 demonstrators were treated. None of the injuries were
considered serious and not a firearm was confiscated by police, nor a
shot was fired by them into the crowd. In April, Daley had ordered
his police to "shoot to kill" rioters during the riots that followed
King's assassination. "Hizzoner" knew which skin color it was OK to
pierce with bullets and which was not in 1968.

The Walker Report, a commission formed to investigate the weeklong
street battles (the fighting continued for two days after Humphrey's
nomination) called the event a "police riot." It said that Chicago
police totally overreacted and created the problems of Chicago, not
solved them.

Eight anti-war figures were put on federal trial the next year,
including Black Panther co-founder Bobby Seale, who was in Chicago
for less than 24 hours. Seale's case was eventually severed from the
other seven, who went on to fame as the "Chicago 7."

The trial echoed the convention and was an absolute fiasco, in part
because of the protests of Seale and the antics of Rubin and Hoffman,
but equally because of the prejudicial actions of presiding federal
Judge Julius Hoffman, yet another Daley crony.

Five of the seven defendants were found guilty of crossing state
lines to cause a riot and of inflammatory speech to further their
cause. But an appeals court overturned the verdict the next year.

Rubin, Hoffman and Daley are long dead. But their legacy of the 1968
Democratic Convention lives on.
--

Information for this article was taken from "Fire in the Streets," by
Milton Viorst; "The Sixties," by Todd Gitlin; "The Century," by Peter
Jennings; "Coming Apart," by William L. O'Neill; "The Glory and the
Dream," by William Manchester; and from Web sites Smithsonian.com,
AllPolitics.com and other sources.

.

Feds: LSD was traded at Rainbow gathering

Feds: LSD was traded at Rainbow gathering

http://www.oregonlive.com/newsflash/index.ssf?/base/news-26/1219364658308130.xml&storylist=orlocal

8/21/2008
By BEN NEARY
The Associated Press

CHEYENNE, Wyo. (AP) ­ Federal authorities have charged an Oregon
woman with distributing the hallucinogenic drug LSD, including some
that authorities say went to the Rainbow Family gathering in western
Wyoming last month.

The U.S. Attorney's Office in Wyoming has filed a criminal complaint
charging Vanessa Marie Griffee, 31, of Eugene, Ore., with felony
distribution of LSD and conspiracy to distribute the drug.

Griffee made an initial appearance before a federal magistrate in
Oregon earlier this month. She's scheduled for a preliminary hearing
in Cheyenne on Sept. 9. If a federal magistrate determines she should
stand trial, she would enter a formal plea to the charges after arraignment.

Eugene lawyer J.W. Frank, who represented Griffee at her initial
appearance, declined comment Wednesday on the government's case
against her. Cheyenne lawyer Terry Harris, who represents Griffee in
U.S. District Court in Wyoming, also declined comment on the case.

A confidential source told Colorado investigators last month that a
North Carolina man at the Rainbow Family gathering in Wyoming claimed
to be distributing LSD there, according to a sworn statement filed by
U.S. Drug Enforcement Agent Timothy Walsh. The statement was filed in
court with the charges against Griffee.

Law enforcement officers searched the North Carolina man's home last
month, according to Walsh's statement. He said that the man
voluntarily told investigators that Griffee had been shipping him LSD
repeatedly for months.

Walsh said the man told investigators that Griffee sent the LSD to
him at "post offices that were located near music festivals and
hippie gatherings."

The man told investigators that he had received a shipment of LSD
sheets from Griffee before he traveled to the Rainbow Family
gathering in Wyoming, Walsh said. The man said that while he was at
the gathering, he traded a sheet of paper containing 100 doses of LSD
to another man there for a red beryl gemstone.

The man also told investigators that he had shipped LSD he received
from Griffee to a Cheyenne post office box, Walsh stated.

No criminal charges had been filed against the man in Wyoming federal
court as of Thursday.

The annual Rainbow Family gathering draws thousands of people from
around the country to a different spot on public lands each year. An
estimated 7,000 people attended this year's event in Sublette County,
Wyo., near the community of Big Sandy.

Several Rainbow Family members were arrested in July following a
confrontation that federal officials say started when officers tried
to arrest one Rainbow Family member for an alleged drug offense.
Forest Service officials accused Rainbow participants of throwing
rocks and sticks at officers during the incident.

Rainbow Family members have said that federal officers antagonize
people at the gatherings. Many have stated that federal officers shot
members unnecessarily with nonlethal pepperball guns during the July
incident in Wyoming. The Wyoming ACLU is investigating their claims.

.

At Oak Grove, Longest Urban Tree-Sit in History Continues

At Oak Grove, Longest Urban Tree-Sit in History Continues

http://www.dailycal.org/article/102283/at_oak_grove_longest_urban_tree-sit_in_history_con

By Ashley Trott
Daily Cal Staff Writer
Wednesday, August 20, 2008

With a few notable exceptions, last year was the year of the
almost-titles for UC Berkeley.

The Cal football team was poised for athletic glory in the NCAA last
season, but it began a losing streak from which they never recovered.
Recently graduated UC Berkeley senior and heavily favored Alysia
Johnson tried out to run the 800-meter dash in the Beijing Olympics,
but she didn't make the team.

But not everyone's attempts at making history were dashed.

As a ragtag coalition of tree-sitters roosted in the oak grove near
Memorial Stadium this summer, UC Berkeley became the home of the
longest urban tree-sit in history.

On Big Game Day in early December 2006, unofficial protest leader
Zachary RunningWolf and two of his cohorts ascended into the grove
with hammocks in tow, aiming to prevent the university from going
forward with plans to build an athletic training center on the site.
The city of Berkeley and two neighborhood groups filed separate
lawsuits with the same ultimate goal.

In January 2007, a judge issued an injunction halting the university
from cutting down the trees or physically altering the site. The
injunction still stands as the lawsuit process continues.

While the number of tree-sitters has fluctuated during the past year
and a half, some tree-sit supporters estimate that at least 150
different people from all across the country have nested in the grove
for at least one night since the protest began.

Tree-sitters and supporters are quick to liken their protest to other
social movements, such as the Free Speech Movement, and to call their
housing situation-a grove of trees behind two fences-"Guantanamo Berkeley."

At about 6:30 a.m. on June 17 of this year, 40 UCPD officers wearing
hard hats stood just outside the grove area, securing the sidewalk
adjacent to the grove so university-hired arborists could begin
removing the tree-sitters' supplies. The tree-sitters soon began
throwing urine and feces on the arborists, UCPD and workers below as
a means of defense.

The following day, the judge presiding over the case ruled that the
injunction still stood, but UCPD continued its blockade of the grove,
leading protest supporters to accuse the university of violating a
"basic human right" by denying the protesters access to food. The
university eventually began providing the protesters with energy bars
and water when they determined that supplies were running low.

The force of protesters, which numbered from eight to 12 when the
barricade started, began to dwindle as some, like the outspoken
Dumpster Muffin, succumbed to exhaustion and while others, like Jeff
Musgrave, left the grove for personal reasons.

About three protesters remain in the grove, but a contingent of
supporters and former tree-sitters have camped in the median of the
adjacent street, saying they want to keep an eye on the police officers.

Ground supporters of the sit have advocated to everyone who they
thought would listen. Some supporters even went as far as planting a
tree in front of Chancellor Robert Birgeneau's residence on July 20,
2008. RunningWolf said the acorn sapling was meant to be an olive
branch for the chancellor.

"We went down and planted a tree on his lawn, basically giving him a
gift of kindness and an offering from the grove," he said. "If I was
a public servant I would welcome that, and say, 'Thank you for giving
us a new life,' especially during global warming."

Appeals in the case may take anywhere from days to years, but until
then, the record for longest urban tree-sit appears as though it will
become increasingly difficult to beat.

.

Facets turns the clock back 40 years

Facets turns the clock back 40 years

http://www.chicagotribune.com/services/newspaper/printedition/friday/friday/chi-0822_screen_sceneaug22,0,6769671.story

SCREEN SCENE BY ROBERT K. ELDER
August 22, 2008

Facets Cinematheque gears up for an entire week of programming called
"40 Years After: Filming the '68 Revolution."

Movies on the schedule, which begins Friday, include 1971's "The
Murder of Fred Hampton" and Norman Mailer's third film, "Maidstone."

With the tumultuous Democratic National Convention, 1968 was
certainly a time of upheaval in Chicago, but is calling it a
"revolution" hyperbolic?

Not at all, says filmmaker Judy Hoffman ("Labor Stories"), who will
speak on a panel during the program.

"I think it's appropriate for a couple of reasons," says Hoffman. "It
looks back at the civil rights movement, the American Indian
movement. ... We have to look back, really, at late '50s and early
'60s with the free speech movement and civil rights movement. That
kind of revolutionary thought continues throughout the Vietnam War."

But, Hoffman says, focusing on 1968 "is probably a fallacy."

"The kinds of revolutionary ideas certainly preceded 1968. It didn't
just all of the sudden fall out of the sky. But somehow we look at
'68 because it in some way captures the zeitgeist and politics of the
time," she says. "We fixate on 1968 because it was a point, globally,
when people took to the streets in France, Czechoslovakia ... and
clearly with the convention here."

Hoffman, who comes out of guerrilla and alternative television
movements of the early 1970s, says the impact of Sony's portable
video system in 1968 often gets overlooked.

"Technology and cultural upheaval came together and began to change
things," she says. "People who didn't normally have access to the
media suddenly had it with portable video. That started to shift who
controlled the media, what stories were told, how they were told and
how people can see them."

Hoffman, whose credits include work as a camera assistant on Ken
Burns' " Frank Lloyd Wright" documentary, is currently updating her
documentary "Cabrini," about the demolition of Chicago's public housing.

At 10 a.m. Saturday, she will speak on a panel titled "Facets Film
Seminar: Filming the Revolution," with producer Bill Cottle ("
American Revolution II," "The Murder of Fred Hampton"), filmmaker
Jill Godmilow ("Far From Poland"), Heartland Journal publisher Mike
James, cinematographer Peter Kuttner and Kartemquin Films co-founder
Gordon Quinn. Ray Pride, film critic for New City, will moderate.

Other films to be screened include "Medium Cool," "The War at Home"
and "At the River I Stand." Facets Cinematheque, 1517 W. Fullerton
Ave., hosts all events. Tickets are $9, $5 members. For a full list
of events and more information, call 773-281-4114 or visit www.facets.org.

.

Pete Seeger to perform

Pete Seeger to perform

http://www.hackensackchronicle.com/NC/0/396.html

[August 2008]

Music has always been a way of interacting with others for singer
Pete Seeger, even though this famous minstrel says he'd rather be a hermit.

"It's the only way to be an honest person in this world," he says.
"Once you start participating in the world, you start being hypocritical."

In spite of himself he stepped out into the world, compelled to reach
others through music. Once he stepped out, he noticed his
surroundings needed improving. He tackled issues using his musical
ability - a tool given to him by his father, a music teacher.

On Aug. 26 at 6 p.m., Seeger is scheduled to perform at the Paramus
Bandshell. North Jersey Media Group columnist Gene Myers recently
talked with Seeger about his family, music, activism and his
friendship with another famous bard, Woody Guthrie. Myers even had to
answer a few of Seeger's questions and do some harmonizing because no
one comes away from Seeger without having learned a song.

Gene Myers: Can you tell me about your earliest memory of music?

Pete Seeger: I don't remember anything under 3 years old, but my
mother played a very good violin and my father accompanied her on a
folding pump organ. When I was only 2 years old - I have pictures of
this in my book -my father would hold me on his lap while he was
playing the little organ and my mother was playing her fiddle. I must
have been conscious of it. I did like to hear my father play Chopin
etudes on the piano. But what I really liked was when he'd let me
play with one finger some melody while he improvised. I'd play on the
upper half of the piano and he'd play all around the lower half of the piano.

GM: The next epiphany also came with help from your father…

PS: At 17, I got out of high school. That summer my father took me to
the Folk Song and Dance Festival in Asheville, North Carolina. And I
suddenly found people making music who didn't have the faintest idea
of what it was to read music. They just played by ear. Members of
their family played music and they picked it up from them. I remember
Mrs. Samantha Bumgarner in her 50s in a rocking chair with a banjo.
She covered the head of her banjo with flowers and butterflies. It
was very colorful. She was singing about adventurous things in old times.

GM: How did you come up with the phrase written on the face of your own banjo?

PS: I made it up. Woody [Guthrie], had on his guitar "This machine
kills fascists" in World War II. And after World War II, he kept it
on, and we said, "Woody, Hitler is dead. Mussolini is dead. Take the
sign off." He said, "These fascists come along every time the rich
people get the generals to help them stay in control." I wanted to
have something a little more peaceful: "This machine surrounds hate
and forces it to surrender." While it's true, there are still people
in the world that hate, small groups here and small groups there…and
the stupid scientists invented horrible things that they can do if
they get the right weapons.

GM: Would you talk a little bit about your relationship to Woody Guthrie?

PS: He was seven years older than I was and vastly more
experienced…In 1940, when I met Woody Guthrie, he taught me how to
hitchhike and ride freight trains…He said, "That guy Seeger is the
youngest man I ever knew. He don't drink. He don't smoke. He don't
chase girls. He's weird!" But I had a very good ear and I could
accompany anything he played, the first time through. I didn't have
to hear it twice.

GM: When you started out on your musical journey, where did you hope
it would take you?

PS: I was looking for a job as a newspaperman and failing utterly to
get one. A school teacher said, "Pete, come sing some of your songs
for my class. I can get $5 for you." A lot of people had to work all
day to get $5 then. There I got $5 just for having fun for an hour. I
went and took the money and quit looking for an honest job
[laughing]. Pretty soon, I was singing at another school and then
another school. I got jobs singing at summer camps, and then 10 years
later, the kids were in college. And after World War II, I went from
college to college.

GM: Why did you want to be a journalist?

PS: [I was] thinking it was a way to save the world from probable
end. Einstein supposed to have said this: "Two infinite things: one
is the universe and the other is human stupidity." Then he adds, "I
am not sure about the universe."

GM: When did you get a sense that music was taking you much further
than college to college?

PS: I didn't. I could have kicked the bucket in 1959 because along
came a lot of young people who picked up on what I was doing, great
songwriters like Bob Dylan, Phil Ochs, Joni Mitchell, Buffy Saint
Marie and so on, a lot of them. I really could have kicked the bucket
and 90 percent of my life's work was done.

GM: What was the 90 percent?

PS: I showed you didn't need to make a living by singing in
nightclubs, or singing on television or radio. You could sing songs
that really meant something.

GM: That's what you gave to music. What did music give to you?

PS: Oh, it's fun and a really great melody gives you hope for the
future of the world. For 60 years I've said we have a 50/50 chance of
there being a human race here in 200 years. But I said that largely
because that implies that any one of us might be the grain of sand to
tip the scales the right way.

GM: Do you think that the activism that happened in the 60s could
happen again anytime soon?

PS: Which part of the 60s - another endless war?

GM: People getting inspired to start making noise and do things on their own…

PS: Well, that is going on now but most newspapers don't report it
because it's all such small things. There are 800 community gardens
in New York City. Do they get in the newspaper? No. A dozen people
here and a couple of dozen there, or three or four somewhere
else…Nobody is writing about them. But I think that is the big news
of this decade. Have you read the book by Paul Hawken? Do you know who he is?

GM: No, I don't.

PS: A small business man…[spells his name] H.A.W.KE.N. His book is
called "Blessed Unrest." You should read it. I am serious. He figures
that there are thousands of little things going on in this country,
usually local. There is also a lovely book about community gardens
called "Seed Folks" written by Paul Fleischman. It's about a
community garden in Cleveland…

After a pause, he muses further…

It may go down to failure because the TV is such a strong thing. I've
got a 14-year-old granddaughter that looks at TV and is getting
together with boys and she thinks I'm a bore.

GM: How many music channels are on that TV?

PS: I don't know. I never look at it. I often quote John Philip
Sousa, who was a great bandleader. In 1910, he said, "What will
happen to the American voice now that the phonograph has been
invented?" He was right. Men used to sing in bars. Now there is a TV
there. All women used to sing lullabies to their kids. Now, some do,
but most don't. Put the kid in front of the tube. He'll fall asleep soon.

GM: Does singing a song for an audience feel different now than it
did 30 years ago, or at different phases of your life?

PS: These days, I am out to teach audiences this little thing…I say
"Do you know this song?" 'You Are My Sunshine' [singing] and of
course everybody knows it. "Who knows the high part?" I ask playing
two notes at once [singing the harmony] and by gosh, when we sing the
song a lot of people are singing the high part and you hear them both
at once, instead of just the melody.

.

50 years of the peace symbol

50 years of the peace symbol

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2008/aug/22/nuclear.fashion

The designer behind the CND sign would be spinning in his grave - now
half a century old, it is more often seen on catwalk models than
protest marchers. Clare Coulson reports

Clare Coulson
The Guardian,
Friday August 22 2008

The British artist Gerald Holtom, creator of the CND sign, penned a
solemn note to Hugh Brock, editor of Peace News, before its first
public outing on a London peace march in 1958. "I was in despair," he
wrote, explaining how the symbol came about. "Deep despair. I drew
myself: the representative of an individual in despair, with hands
palm outstretched outwards and downwards in the manner of Goya's
peasant before the firing squad. I formalised the drawing into a line
and put a circle round it."

Holtom died in 1985. If he had been alive to see this month's Vogue
or Tatler, he might have been surprised to see an advertisement for
Tiffany & Co in which Lily Cole wears a platinum and diamond peace
sign pendant. Half a century after its creation, this potent
ideological symbol has become one of the world's most recognisable
designs - and one of its most commercialised too. With 4.8 carats of
round-cut diamonds set into platinum, the Tiffany pendant has a price
tag of £2,550.

Holtom, who was a conscientious objector during the second world war
while working on a farm in Norfolk, would probably not have been too
impressed. But Tiffany is not alone in cashing in on the design,
which has adorned Fendi bags, limited-edition Volkswagen cars and
Madonna's favourite Ed Hardy T-shirts. This autumn Barney's, the chic
New York department store, is celebrating the 50th anniversary of the
peace sign with its Peace and Love holiday extravaganza.

Barneys' British creative director, Simon Doonan, has strong memories
of the symbol in its original context: growing up near the
Aldermaston Atomic Weapons Establishment, he remembers "going with my
parents and seeing the CND sign held up on broomsticks". These days,
he believes, "a lot of people don't necessarily know the sign came
out of the nuclear disarmament movement. But it still has meaning to
people, it still carries a positive message of peace. It's become
almost akin to a smiley face." He has asked designers including
Nicolas Ghesquière of Balenciaga, Alber Elbaz of Lanvin, Phillip Lim
and Alexander Wang to create dresses inspired by the peace sign. The
store has commissioned a plethora of hippy-inspired products: tie-dye
Converse hi-tops, psychedelic backgammon boards and high-fashion
accessories including a Fendi baguette bag with a peace-sign key chain.

All this rampant consumerism doesn't sit easily with the principles
of turn on, tune in and drop out. Sadly for CND (and for Gerald
Holtom's estate) a copyright was never sought for the sign, which
allows it to be commandeered for pretty much anything - including
Tiffany pendants - although CND do ask for a donation from companies
who have used the symbol.

Doonan disputes the idea that Barneys' "Have a Hippy Holiday"
campaign is at odds with the original message of the peace sign.
"Sure, it's probably not what the hippies had in mind, for it to
become a marketing campaign for a department store. But it's a symbol
of the mainstreaming of counter-cultural ideas, of things that were
part of the alternative lifestyle - like environmentalism, and
organic food. Isn't that ultimately what the hippies would have wanted?"

Not necessarily, says Christopher Breward, head of the V&A's research
department, who suspects "Holtom is probably spinning in his grave
now. The original anti-bomb marchers came from a very anti-fashion
perspective." Next month the V&A opens Cold War Modern: Design
1945-70, which will delve into the relationship between fear and
fashion and design during the postwar decades.

Breward sees correlations between our current economic and social
climate and the prevailing mood in the 60s and early 70s. "These
decades offer answers to present problems; think of the 70s eco
movement, an alternative way of living. There's a really strong
connection between then and now."

Ever since the summer of love, fashion has drawn inspiration from
hippie style and symbols. Yves Saint Laurent took his cues from the
bohemian band of friends who populated his Marrakech riad, including
Talitha Getty. Kenzo also took hippy style and gave it a high-fashion
spin, while Tom Ford created his own tribute to the summer of love
while at Gucci in the early 90s.

Now designers are plundering the look once more. After a summer of
wedge sandals, maxi dresses and festival dressing (where even
orange-faced Wags were hopping on the hippy bandwagon), autumn sees
the return of gilets, tasseled boots and folky prints.

The look is most pronounced at Gucci, where creative director Frida
Giannini has fused Russian bohemia with a hefty dash of 70s rock
chick. There are fringed boots and tight velvet pants, low-slung
embellished belts and printed peasant tops all topped off with piles
of jangly charm bracelets and necklaces. The current advertising
campaign for Gucci's "hippy deluxe" range shows a gaggle of models
prancing around in a meadow in what seems like a post-festival haze -
complete with whopping great Gucci bags, of course.

The day after Giannini's autumn/winter show back in February,
newspapers were cooing over the brazen commerciality of it all.
(Ironically, the reviews probably started Giannini brooding in her
Via Pontaccio office - few fashion designers like to be tarred with
the commercial brush.) But the critics had a point - there is
something very saleable about the style of the late 60s and 70s. As
Christopher Breward puts it: "Everyone can have a piece of this look
as it's so simple - it's a fashion shorthand and it's incredibly accessible."

So accessible, in fact, that Giannini delved deeper into the 70s for
her resort range (which will go on sale around November) with printed
maxi dresses, flared trousers and numerous tributes to Talitha Getty
and Jane Birkin, who both inspired the collection. And Giannini isn't
the only one.

Michael Kors gives a nod to the style in his resort collection too,
with long tie-dye kaftans and patchwork dresses. Meanwhile, this
autumn Dolce & Gabbana ditches its usual ultra-sexy style in favour
of shaggy long gilets and midi-length skirts. There are more fluffy
gilets at Isabel Marant and Etro, while Bally, the Swiss firm that is
now steered by ex-Versace designer Brian Atwood, has faded-print
peasant tops and slouchy suede boots.

It's all a far cry from the thrift-store aesthetic of the original
hippies. Any residual meaning in hippy style - and probably the peace
symbol - has been virtually sucked dry by the fashion business, with
the look becoming a moneyspinner for global luxury brands. Next year
sees the 40th anniversary of Woodstock. Giannini is probably
rummaging through the archive pictures already.

.

Setting the tone for turmoil

Setting the tone for turmoil

http://www.southernillinoisan.com/articles/2008/08/24/front_page/25606535.txt

Events of '68 Democratic National Convention reverberated through
SIUC and region

BY LINDA RUSH, THE SOUTHERN
Sunday, August 24, 2008

As the Democratic National Convention opens today in Denver, a number
of Carbondale residents recall the chaos that unfolded 40 years ago,
when Chicago police and anti-war protesters clashed during the 1968
convention. All the scenes of violence were delivered to the nation
via television.

Frank Bleyer of Carbondale was in the middle of the action during the
1968 convention.

"I was an alternate delegate," said Bleyer, a former teacher, coach
and retail merchant and longtime executive of the Bank of Carbondale.
"I had the opportunity to meet Mayor Daley. I was sitting just a
couple of seats away from him."

Daley 'hero' to delegates

The late Richard J. Daley, Chicago's mayor and father of the city's
current mayor, was reviled by many for the heavy security that was
imposed over the city and the bloody confrontations between police
and protesters, which some news reports called "police riots."

But Bleyer said he felt the mayor was just trying to protect him and
the other delegates. "To the delegates, he was a hero, but not to the
media," he said.

"It was right there in the streets," Bleyer said of the protesters.
"You couldn't walk down the sidewalk without being accosted by
someone." Although he wasn't touched by any of the demonstrators, he
saw some confrontations, "and the police action to maintain order,"
Bleyer added.

"I felt sorry for Mayor Daley," Bleyer said. "He was trying hard to
maintain order in the city, but the newsmen constantly had a
microphone in his face," even on the convention floor.

"I remember some people put up posters the next night reading 'Mayor
Daley for President,' and some of the mayor's supporters were
marching with the posters outside the convention headquarters," Bleyer said.

Bleyer's brief foray into politics began in 1966, when he won the
Democratic primary, then faced his old friend, Republican incumbent
State Sen. John Gilbert, in the general election. Gilbert won.

"It's a period of time I'm trying to forget," Bleyer said jokingly.
If he had it to do over, he said, he wouldn't have run against
Gilbert. But he wouldn't have missed the convention, which he called
both "educational" and "exciting."

Although the streets outside teemed with conflict, the convention
itself was orderly, Bleyer recalled. "There was no coercion for my
vote," either in the Illinois caucus or on the convention floor, he said.

Hubert Humphrey of Minnesota received the presidential nomination,
which many demonstrators saw as an extension of Lyndon B. Johnson's
war policies.

Convention security "was tremendous - armed guards, metal detectors,
searches, guards with machine guns, armed guards on the roof," Bleyer
recalled. But he also recalled that there were "threats of terrorism,
like poisoning the Chicago water supply," made before the delegates arrived.

"Now, people expect the need for security, but in those days it
seemed excessive," Bleyer said.

Cops smack 'hippies like mosquitoes'

While Bleyer was inside the convention headquarters, Mike Chylewski
and his friend, Tim Irons, were outside on the streets. "It was
bizarre," Chylewski said. The two high school friends from the
suburbs heard about the demonstrations, so they went downtown to see
what was happening.

They found "an eeriness and a tension in the air," Chylewski said.
"You just knew something was going to happen.

"We came across a long line of Chicago cops and a long line of
hippies facing off. The hippies were taunting the cops and calling
them names like 'pigs,' which was a popular term back then," Chylewski said.

"The cops were standing in a line tapping their nightsticks on their
legs saying nothing. Tim and I got closer to see what was up. We were
right behind all the hippies when all heck broke loose.

"All of a sudden, the Chicago police commander said, 'Go,' and the
cops started swinging those billy clubs, smacking hippies like
mosquitoes. Tim and I freaked out and ran all the way back to the
suburbs. We were fine after an underwear change."

The moral of the story, Chylewski added, is, "Stay home and watch it on TV."

Chylewski and Irons later attended Southern Illinois University
Carbondale together, married cousins and still are in Southern
Illinois. Chylewski is now senior vice president of Care Trak
International, Inc., in Murphysboro and Irons lives in De Soto.

'A crazy, surreal situation'

John S. Jackson, visiting professor at the Paul Simon Public Policy
Institute at SIUC, was in graduate school in Tennessee in 1968 and
saw the convention on TV.

When he began teaching the next year at SIUC, his students expressed
their outrage over the confrontation in Chicago. He later saw SIUC
student demonstrations escalate into actions similar to what they'd
seen on TV from Chicago in 1968.

"It was a crazy, surreal situation," he said.

And, Jackson said, there was a "clear correlation, even straight-line
progression" of the anti-war and civil rights movements that led from
the violence in Chicago to the closing of the SIUC campus in 1970.

"People today forget the intensity of the opposition to the war,"
Jackson said. "It's a totally different deal" now, because there is a
volunteer army and there is no military draft hanging over the heads
of young men.

After the May 4 incident in which Ohio National Guardsmen fired on a
crowd of student demonstrators at Kent State University, killing four
and wounding nine, "I saw (the violence) in person," Jackson said.
Students poured into the streets of Carbondale, as did students on
campuses nationwide.

State police and National Guard troops were called in to patrol the
streets of Carbondale.

"I was only three years out of the Army myself. I saw those young
people with rifles and wondered if it would happen here," Jackson recalled.

Jackson County Treasurer Shirley Dillinger Booker of Carbondale said
she could recall no local incidents in protest of the convention
violence. Her father, the late Ray Dillinger, was sheriff at the
time, "and he would have known about any incidents," Booker said.
Most law enforcement agencies were on alert, though, because of
protests in other communities. Her late husband, Wayne Booker, was a
Carbondale policeman who saw duty during the uprisings in 1969 and 1970.

1969 heats up

But later, as the war in Vietnam continued to escalate, local
anti-war protests became more visible and more damaging. Black
activists, too, increased their demands for civil rights. In 1969, a
fire of suspicious origin destroyed Old Main, the oldest building on
the SIUC campus. The growing campus tensions could not be ignored.

In 1968, Bill Kilquist of Murphysboro was an SIUC student, living in
Wright Hall at University Park, majoring in physical education. He
saw little or no reaction to the Democratic convention. Instead, he
believes "the Vietnamese Studies Center on Campus was the main
catalyst" for campus protests.

The center, funded by a grant from the U.S. Agency for International
Development, outraged some students, who said AID was a front for the
CIA and the center probably was assisting in the Vietnam war effort.

In a design class, Kilquist met a student policeman who told him it
was a great campus job. Kilquist went to the security office, got a
job and changed his major to administration of justice.

"Southern Illinois was a better place to live" than his native
upstate New York, Kilquist said. He was a Saluki patrolman from 1969
to 1971, then joined the Carbondale Police Department. He also served
as a Jackson County deputy and later was elected Jackson County
sheriff. He recently retired from the Illinois Department of Corrections.

As a Saluki Patrol member, Kilquist sometimes was assigned to guard
campus buildings during periods of turmoil.

"I also worked undercover, marching in protests - right in the middle
of everything," he recalled. Police were taking photos, trying to
learn "who were the ringleaders," he said.

He recalls that Carbondale's squad cars had their windows all broken
out by the crowds.

1970 campus shutdown

When the campus was shut down by violence in 1970, instructors gave
pass-fail grades to students.

"It was my best semester at SIU," Kilquist joked.

Retired SIU policeman Steve Rishel of De Soto knows exactly where he
was in 1968 - Vietnam. When he returned from service, Rishel went to
work for the SIUC food service. Among his duties was catering events
at the home of SIU President Delyte Morris and his wife, Dorothy.

When he applied for a job as a university policeman in 1970, he said,
"I used Dorothy Morris as a reference." He got the job.

Rishel's duties were interesting, to say the least. "We took turns
protecting the Vietnamese Studies Center" night after night, he said.
"The first month after I was hired, my paycheck was doubled because
of all the overtime I worked. We used to stay all night in the design
building barracks, too."

Some of the troops were billeted in the SIU Student Center as well.
Clarence G. "Doc" Dougherty, longtime director of the Student Center,
who is now retired, said the troops would come in and sleep there,
then leave before students arrived each morning.

When a brick was thrown through a Student Center window, one of
Dougherty's student workers made a paperweight out of it. "I still
have it," Dougherty said.

From 'Nam to Carbondale

Larry D. Hill of Makanda was another Vietnam veteran, a Marine medic
who returned to SIUC hoping to become a teacher. He also worked with
his brother as a carpenter.

"One night I was at the Moose Club with my brother and met Jack
Hazel, the Carbondale police chief," he said. Hazel urged him to
apply for a police job.

"He said it paid $100 a week," Hill recalled. "That was a lot more
than I made in Vietnam. I took the tests and got hired and switched
my classes from education to AJ (administration of justice).

Hill recalls the violence after the assassination of Dr. Martin
Luther King Jr., and the anti-war marches that increased in frequency
and intensity. The Democratic convention and nomination of Humphrey,
who was considered a "war" candidate because he had served with
Lyndon B. Johnson, further angered the protesters.

"We had 13 police officers shot in Carbondale in two years, between
1968 and 1970," Hill said. "And there were only about 50 men on the
force. Nobody was killed."

Snipers also targeted squad cars, shooting out windows and slicing
tires on parked vehicles. Later, during the violence of 1970, city
police rode patrols with the National Guard troops and state police.
"We knew the city," Hill explained.

He took the police job initially, he said, "because the pay was good
and I wouldn't be getting shot at all the time like I was in
Vietnam." Within two years, though, Larry Hill and his fellow
officers were getting shot at in the streets of Carbondale.
--

linda.rush@thesouthern.com / 351-5079

.

Neo-hippies stoke festival fever

Neo-hippies stoke festival fever

http://www.tallahassee.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080822/ENT/808220313/1005

Plan your pickin' and drummin'

By Kati Schardl • DEMOCRAT STAFF WRITER • August 22, 2008

In 1968, there was more than peace and love in the air ­ a powerful
tribal vibe throbbed through the music-loving masses.

The previous year, dubbed the "Summer of Love," had ushered in the
era of the rock 'n' roll festival. In June 1967, Fantasy Fair & Magic
Mountain Music Festival was held in Marin County, Calif. Performers
included The Fifth Dimension, Dionne Warwick, Canned Heat, Moby
Grape, The Doors, Jefferson Airplane, The Byrds, The Grass Roots, Tim
Buckley, Hugh Masekela, Country Joe & The Fish, Captain Beefheart &
The Magic Band and Smokey Robinson & The Miracles. More than 15,000
groovy people attended.

A week later, the Monterey Pop Festival in Monterey, Calif., drew
five times that many folks. Many of the same performers from Fantasy
Fair & Magic Mountain played at Monterey, along with Jimi Hendrix
(who set his guitar on fire at the end of his show, the first-ever he
had played in America), The Who, Ravi Shankar (who played for four
hours), Janis Joplin and Big Brother & the Holding Company, Otis
Redding (who died six months later in a plane crash), The Animals,
Simon & Garfunkel, Al Kooper, Quicksilver Messenger Service, the
Steve Miller Band, Lyra Nyro, Booker T & the M.G.s, Buffalo
Springfield, the Grateful Dead and the Mamas & the Papas.

The Sunshine State hopped on board the music-fest bandwagon in 1968
with the Miami Pop Festival. An estimated 100,000 enthusiasts
converged on Gulfstream Race Track for two days of music from
Steppenwolf, Jimi Hendrix, The Mothers of Invention, Blue Cheer,
Crazy World of Arthur Brown, Chuck Berry, Blues Image, Pacific Gas &
Electric and Three Dog Night.

In 1969, festival fever exploded. There was the Aquarian Family
Festival in San Jose, Calif., the Denver Pop Festival in the Mile
High City, the Atlanta International Pop Festival, the Texas
International Pop Festival and the mother of all music festivals ­
Woodstock Music & Art Fair on Max Yasgur's farm in upstate New York.
The year closed with a bang ­ literally ­ at the infamous Altamont
Speedway Free Festival in Northern California.

The tribal connection that led musical gypsies to roam from fest to
fest back then is alive and well today. There's a fresh generation of
idealistic, neo-hippies flocking to a new round of regional music
festivals. The tie-dye-clad, dread-locked, Frisbee-tossing, barefoot
masses camp en masse, dance all night and share the love at such
mega-fests as Coachella in California and Bonnaroo in Tennessee.

If you want to get in the groove with the rest of the tribe, check
out one ­ or more ­ of these festivals within driving distance of Tallahassee.

Blackwater Sol Revue, Aug. 30, St. Augustine Amphitheatre on
Anastasia Island south of St. Augustine. Performers include J.J. Grey
& Mofro, Toots & the Maytals, The Lee Boys, Nervous Turkey and Hill
Country Revue (featuring members of North Mississippi Allstars).
Tickets are $40 in advance, $45 on the day of the show and $100 for
VIP access. Visit www.blackwatersolrevue.com or www.mofro.net.

Pickin' in the Pines Bluegrass Festival, Sept. 26-27. Forest Capital
Park in Perry. Performers include Valerie Smith & Liberty Pike, Even
Money, Tallahassee Fiddlers, Ernie Evans & Southern Lite, and
Calliope. Tickets are $15 for a weekend pass or $10 per day. Call
Dawn Taylor at (850) 584-5366 or visit www.floridastatebluegrass.com.

Boggy Bayou Mullet Festival, Oct. 17-19. Mullet Festival grounds in
Niceville. Seafood, arts and crafts, children's activities, and music
by Rodney Adkins and Jason Aldean. Admission is $10 per day. Advance
three-day passes available for $25. Visit www.cityofniceville.org/mullet.html.

The Paralounge Drum Gathering, Oct. 31-Nov. 2. The River Rendezvous
on the Suwannee River near Mayo. Drum and dance festival featuring
Lucid Druid, Balantami Sun Vibe, Abou Sylla, Tampa Taiko, Tasara
Camara and workshops with Arthur Hull. Tickets are $40. Visit
www.paralounge.net.

Riverhawk Music Festival, Nov. 6-9. Sertoma Youth Ranch in
Brooksville. Performers include Cadillac Sky, Chubby Carrier & the
Bayou Swamp Band, WaCo Ramblers, Tarbox Ramblers, the Pinkham Family,
the Zydepunks, the Aaron O'Rourke Trio and The Mayhaws. Four-day
festival tickets are $110 in advance and include camping. Three-day,
two-day and single-day tickets are also available. Visit
www.riverhawkmusic.com.

Bear Creek Music & Art Festival, Nov. 14-16. Spirit of the Suwannee
Music Park near Live Oak. Performers include Ivan Neville's
Dumpstaphunk, Perpetual Groove, Dirty Dozen Brass Band, DubConscious,
The Legendary JC's, Tishamingo, The Soular System, Cadillac Jones,
Ancient Harmony, the Sarah Mac Band and many more. Advance tickets
are $125 through Sept. 15, $145 from Sept. 16-Nov. 12. Visit
www.bearcreekmusicfestival.com.

.

The revolution that changed us forever

The revolution that changed us forever

http://www.wmicentral.com/site/news.cfm?BRD=2264&dept_id=581907&newsid=20086266&PAG=461&rfi=9

By: John W. Whitehead, Special to The Independent
08/22/2008

"I want to see the plan. That is what I used to say to Abbie Hoffman
and Jerry Rubin. Count me out if it is for violence. Don't expect me
to be on the barricades unless it is with flowers."
-John Lennon
--

Following the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. and Bobby
Kennedy in 1968, the optimism of the Summer of Love quickly
evaporated and young people revolted worldwide.
In the United States, the cataclysm came as 10,000
demonstrators descended on the Democratic Party's national convention
in August. Police reacted by beating not only rock-throwing
demonstrators but passersby, journalists and volunteers. Violence and
revolt were now in vogue.
The Beatles, the most influential pop voice of the time,
responded to this shift towards violence with "Revolution," the first
Beatles song with an explicitly political statement. As John Lennon
sings in his masterpiece on the need for nonviolent change, "When you
talk about destruction, don't you know that you can count me out?"
The underground press-which at the time included such
newspapers as the Village Voice-immediately criticized the song and
Lennon for not urging outright rebellion against authority. Lennon
was quick to point out that if they really wanted a revolution, it
had to begin with changing the way people think: "I'm not only up
against the establishment but you too. I'll tell you what's wrong
with the world: people-so do you want to destroy them? Until you/we
change our heads-there's no choice."
Clearly, the Left had missed the point: violence begets
violence. Lennon's missive in "Revolution" thus sums up the Beatles'
message-peace, love and understanding-that permeated their brief
seven-year career. And it helped create one of the few lasting
revolutions in history.
The Beatles "presided over an epochal shift comparable in scale
to that bridging Classical Antiquity and the Middle Ages," writes
professor Henry Sullivan, "or the transition from the Middle Ages to
the Renaissance." Indeed, they played a central role in catalyzing a
transition from the Modern to the post-Modern Age and unknowingly set
in motion forces that made an entire era what it was and, by
extension, is today.
Beatlemania hit the United States with full force on Feb. 9,
1964, by way of television on the Ed Sullivan Show. For a short
while, as some 72 million Americans got their first glimpse of the
Beatles, with their mop-top haircuts and original music, the streets
emptied and crime stopped. A cultural revolution was obviously at hand.
Elvis Presley may have been revolutionary, but there was no
gender revolution until the Beatles came along. With the prominence
they accorded women in their songs and the way they spoke to millions
of teenaged girls about new possibilities, the Beatles eventually
helped feminize the culture and led to the empowerment of young
women. The implications of the Beatles' relatively androgynous
appearance had a far more profound effect on sexual liberation than
anyone could have guessed at the time. As Steven Stark points out in
his book "Meet The Beatles," they also "challenged the definition
that existed during their time of what it meant to be a man."
The Beatles, as Dr. Joyce Brothers recognized at the time,
"display a few mannerisms which almost seem a shade on the feminine
side, such as tossing of their long manes of hair. Very young 'women'
are still a little frightened of the idea of sex. Therefore they feel
safer worshipping idols who don't seem too masculine, or too much the
'he-man'." To this effeminacy should be added the early Beatles'
preference for high falsetto vocals.
The Beatles converged with their era-the 60s generation-in an
almost unprecedented way. At no other time in history, or since, has
a generation been so connected. The vehicle was rock music. And the
Beatles helped create an aural culture.
The burgeoning baby boomers' fascination with music brought the
60s generation into a collective whole. "Perhaps the most important
aspect of the Beatles' attraction during that influential era,"
writes Steven Stark, "was their collective synergy." In other words,
the Beatles popularized the sanctity of "the group." With the
Beatles, the whole was always greater than the sum of the parts. This
gave them a dazzling appeal. The religious allure of the Beatles was
another vital factor in allowing the group to endure. John Lennon was
onto something in 1966 when he compared the group's popularity with
that of Jesus Christ. Multitudes flocked to them and even brought
sick children to see if the Beatles could somehow heal them.
The Beatles, as new spiritual leaders, came to embody the
values of the counterculture in its challenge to "the Establishment."
They celebrated an alternative worldview, a vision of a new
possibility. And they sang and lived this vision for others.
Unlike artists before them, the Beatles had power over millions
of people worldwide. In 1967, for example, with the release of their
Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band album, as one critic noted, it
was the closest Europe had been to unification since the Congress of
Vienna in 1815. Most thought North America could have been included as well.
And the Beatles became the embodiment of the Summer of Love
with their live global BBC television broadcast of "All You Need Is
Love" in June 1967. Approximately 400 million people across five
continents tuned in. This type of power was something new.
Previously, only popes, kings and perhaps a few intellectuals could
hope to wield such influence in their lifetime.
Some have even argued that the Beatles' influence helped bring
down the Iron Curtain. As Yuri Pelyoshonok, a Soviet Studies professor, says:
The Soviet authorities thought of the Beatles as a secret Cold
War weapon. The kids lost their interest in all Soviet unshakable
dogmas and ideals and stopped thinking of an English-speaking person
as the enemy. That's when the Communists lost two generations of
young people ideologically, totally lost. That was an incredible impact.
Checkpoint Charlie, the former crossing point for foreigners
and Allied troops at the Berlin Wall, now serves as a reminder of the
Beatles' colossal impact. Near where Checkpoint Charlie once stood, a
Yellow Submarine ride now operates-a tribute to the Beatles' 1966
song of the same name.
The Beatles still impact us because they effected a revolution
of spirit and mind. As "Revolution" stresses, it was not a movement
about physically overthrowing a regime. It was a spiritual
revolution, one aimed at overthrowing preconceived notions. Thus,
before you can effect a lasting change, as John Lennon sings, you
have to "free your mind."
--

Constitutional attorney and author John W. Whitehead is founder
and president of The Rutherford Institute. His new book "Why We
Should Give a Damn: The Struggle to Reignite the Politics of Hope"
(Sourcebooks) was released this month. He can be contacted at
johnw@rutherford.org.

.

'It is always a trip'

[2 items]

'It is always a trip'

http://www.mpnnow.com/entertainment/x560275044/It-is-always-a-trip

By AJ Shear
Daily Messenger
Thu Aug 21, 2008

Hopewell, N.Y. -

For Mark Karan, lead guitarist for roots-rock band RatDog, this
summer is a time to be ­ to invoke a familiar term ­ grateful.

He and the rest of former Grateful Dead guitarist Bob Weir's band
have just embarked on another nationwide tour with the Allman
Brothers Band ­ a tour Karan had to miss last summer when recovering
from throat cancer treatment.

"I got through this with a lot of support from family, friends and
the extended family I have been blessed with having from the Grateful
Dead community. The support was really mind-boggling," Karan said. "I
was shocked and scared for sure, but I kind of just adopted a
'whatever it takes' kind of attitude."

The attitude worked for Karan: In just a year, he was given a clean
bill of health and was able to return to RatDog, which plays the
Constellation Brands-Marvin Sands Performing Arts Center, along with
the Allmans, on Friday, Aug. 22.

Weir officially formed RatDog in 1995 ­ the same year Grateful Dead
leader Jerry Garcia died ­ though Weir and bassist Rob Wasserman had
played and toured together off and on for years under various band
names. RatDog started with Weir, Wasserman, drummer Jay Lane and
harmonica/guitarist Matthew Kelly, but the lineup has evolved over
time, with Karan joining in 1998.

"There was quite a bit of evolution of RatDog," Karan said. "When I
came in, Rob Wasserman was the bass player, and as time went on we
became more of a rock and roll band." Wasserman left a few years
later, and Robin Sylvester hopped on board. That addition changed the
band quite a bit, Karan said.

"We were playing with a guy (Sylvester) that could really play
electric bass, and I feel the band has really moved ahead in leaps
and bounds," he said.

RatDog's set lists have the full spectrum of what gets called roots
rock or Americana, its repertoire including RatDog originals, the
Dead's deep catalogue, and numerous folk, rock, blues, soul/R&B and
country sources ­ covers of Bob Dylan, Marty Robbins, Sonny Boy
Williamson and the Beatles, to name a few.

Karan says his playing with RatDog is also constantly evolving.

"It has been quite a journey for me to come back to my roots
musically and creatively with RatDog," said Karan. "Really get back
to where I started, creative stretching rock and roll playing where
all bets are off. It is always a trip, though, because you don't know
where a song is going to go. Sometimes you think you'll have a small
little tune and it will stretch out to 20 minutes long."

He's happy to be back touring with the band and thankful for the
support he had while he was recovering from cancer treatment.

"I didn't really have a sense of what to expect from myself," said
Karan. "I was off for almost a year. As it worked out though, it's a
lot like riding a bike. I was doing it for nearly 10 years, and when
I got back on that stage at that first show back, my recollection was
that it was a really fun show."

RatDog is not the only project Karan is working on right now. He has
recently played with the Grateful Dead bass player's band, Phil Lesh
and Friends, at a Deadheads for Obama benefit and for the closing of
the historic Warfield Theatre in San Francisco. He will be joining
Phil Lesh and Friends the day after the current RatDog tour ends at
the Slow Food Festival, also in San Francisco.

Karan said he joined up recently with the New Riders of the Purple
Sage ­ a band that has included many members of the Grateful Dead.
"They're a great band that flies too far below the radar," Karan
said. "And they are fun to play with."

His own band, Jemimah Puddleduck, features John Molo from Phil Lesh
and Friends on drums, JT Thomas on keyboard and Bob Gross on bass.
While Karan is often busy with RatDog, he loves the time he gets to
spend playing with Jemimah Puddleduck.

"We're all so busy we don't get to play our tour as much as we'd like
to, but it's a really great band," said Karan. "I get to be the main
writer and lead singer, and I really love to do those things." He
hopes to finish a Jemimah Puddleduck record soon: "We have been
trying to get a record done for quite a while now. I've done a lot of
work in the studio through the years helping other folks realize
their musical vision, and I just want to complete something of my
own. None of us know how long we get to be here, and cancer gave me a
new outlook."

Having a positive outlook is what it's about for Karan and RatDog.
Karan is simply happy to be a part of the whole experience.

"I love it. The fact is that I am incredibly blessed to be in a
community like this. I am blessed that this is what I get to do and I
have incredible musical freedom every night," said Karan. "If we are
doing our job, we get the fans fired up, and then they fire us up."
--

If you go:
WHAT: RatDog and the Allman Brothers Band in concert
WHEN: Friday, Aug. 22, at 7 p.m.
WHERE: Constellation Brands-Marvin Sands Performing Arts Center,
accessed off Lincoln Hill Road, Hopewell
TICKETS: $49.50-$69.50 ($29.50 lawn) at www.ticketmaster.com or (585)
232-1900, or at the box office at the Blue Cross Arena (One War
Memorial Square, Rochester); also available at the CMAC box office
starting at noon Friday

--------

Allman Brothers: Music That Lasts

http://www.courant.com/entertainment/music/hc-allmanrev.artaug22,0,4681136.story

Groups Specialize In Extravaganzas

By LEAH IGDALSKY | Special To The Courant
August 22, 2008

The average song lasts about four minutes.

This is not the case for tunes by Bob Weir & Ratdog or the Allman
Brothers Band. Wednesday night at the Dodge Music Center in Hartford,
most songs spanned 10 minutes or more.

Weir, the singer and guitarist of Grateful Dead fame, led a troupe of
six musicians through a set heavy on Dead songs, with Weir singing
lead. Saxophone from Kenny Brooks added richness to the band's sound,
and created a funk feel on "Terrapin Station."

The band tried a bluegrass style after its front man switched from
electric to acoustic guitar, and Robin Sylvester picked up a double
bass. The crowd of aging hippies and 21st-century flower children was
bored, using it as an opportunity to walk around.

The sound cut in and out through "Uncle John's Band." The audience
tried to help out, singing the lyrics whenever the sound failed.

Weir had a propensity for Bob Dylan covers, singing "All Along the
Watchtower." Later, "Knockin' On Heaven's Door" featured a dissonant
harmony between Weir and Sylvester.

Warren Haynes of the Allman Brothers Band joined Ratdog for an
encore, playing "Terrapin Station" again, this time featuring
menacing guitar from Haynes.

The Allman Brothers played a two-hour set, complimented by a
psychedelic video backdrop. "Whipping Post" showcased the nimble
fingers of guitarist Derek Trucks, the star of this revival of the
band. He is really an Allman nephew, not a brother; his uncle is
Butch Trucks, a founding member of the band.

The band then eased into a slower jam, beginning with a guitar intro
reminiscent of "Black Magic Woman." Trucks switched back and forth
between using a slide on his guitar. Kenny Brooks contributed
saxophone along with Gregg Allman's gravely vocals. A cover of
Howlin' Wolf's "Who's Been Talkin'" featured slide guitar from Trucks.

The Allman Brothers Band then tore into "Mountain Jam," a lyric-free,
improvisational tune from the 1971 live album, "At Fillmore East."
The song spanned approximately half an hour, building and shrinking
in speed, volume and intensity. Oteil Burbridge moved from bass
guitar to drums, engaging in battling solos with percussionist
Jaimoe; Butch Trucks pounded on a large timpani drum.

.

UFW speech echoes past

UFW speech echoes past

http://www.fresnobee.com/263/story/817657.html

Robert F. Kennedy Jr. reminds of union's early days.

By Jeff St. John and Mark Grossi / The Fresno Bee
08/23/08

Echoing the spirit of his father's 1968 presidential campaign, Robert
F. Kennedy Jr. stood before the United Farm Workers on Saturday in
Fresno to argue for an America more attuned to the needs of the least
privileged.

Forty years ago, the elder RFK met with UFW founder César Chávez in
Delano to bond with farmworkers and Hispanics for political change.
Now, Kennedy's son is doing the same -- by urging a vote for Barack Obama.

"We need to restore the hope and idealism we've lost over the last
eight years," Kennedy said.

The three-day UFW constitutional convention in Fresno -- held every
four years -- has become a regular stop for politicians. Sen. John
Kerry, D-Mass., phoned in a speech during his 2004 presidential
campaign. Former Gov. Gray Davis spoke at the union's convention in 2000.

It's a far cry from the 1960s, when the late Sen. Robert F. Kennedy,
D-N.Y., met with Chávez. Kennedy was assassinated in Los Angeles just
months after his visit and never saw the union grow from a
struggling, grass-roots organization into an iconic national force.

The changes are evident by the speaker list. Today, the UFW is
scheduled to hear former presidential candidate and U.S. Sen. Hillary
Clinton, D-N.Y., at 2 p.m. It will likely be the last public
appearance Clinton makes before the Democratic National Convention
this week in Denver.

Both the UFW and Kennedy, a long-time environmentalist, supported
Clinton in her run against Obama for the Democratic presidential
nomination. Now both say they are behind Obama.

But Kennedy hasn't changed his tune about the Bush administration.

He blamed the Bush White House for what he called disasters, ranging
from the economy to the Iraq war.

"This is the worst administration in the history of the United
States," he said.

Tanis Ybarra, the union's secretary treasurer, said it was no
accident that Kennedy spoke before the union's membership this year.
Chávez, who died in 1993, forged a friendship with the Kennedy family
in the late 1960s.

It was the elder RFK who was at Chávez's side in Delano when the
union leader broke his 25-day fast for nonviolence. The moment was
immortalized in a photo showing the two men huddled together.

"There is a bond there that has lived on," Ybarra said. "There is a
lot of history between us."

Political connections may not be enough to keep the union from
struggling with membership in the face of farmer opposition. For
instance, the UFW was unsuccessful at a high-profile organizing drive
in 2005 to organize thousands of workers at Central Valley table
grape-growing giant Giumarra Vineyards. The union alleged that
employer intimidation skewed that vote.

And the Los Angeles Times reported in 2006 that UFW contracts
indicated the union had only 7,000 workers under contracts at the
height of the growing season.

Union officials said the figures were inaccurate. The UFW has about
27,000 members, all under contracts, said spokeswoman Vicki Adame.

The union always has been known for championing farmworker rights in
the Legislature.

Officials are pushing for better organizing rights and federal
immigration reform. The UFW remains a strong influence in America
today, say experts.

"For all the complex struggles and the internal confusions, it is an
organization of enormous symbolic and real importance for American
farmworkers," said Daniel Rothenberg, a law professor at DePaul
University in Chicago who studies the labor movement.

But the UFW also has taken steps to find common ground with the
farmers it once fought, said Manuel Cunha Jr., president of the Nisei
Farmers League, which adamantly opposed the UFW during its formative
years in the 1960s and 1970s.

That cooperation led to the so-called "AgJobs" proposal in Congress,
which would give more than a million farmworkers now in the country a
way to earn permanent residency and eventual U.S. citizenship.

The proposal has not succeeded. The most recent version in Congress
was dropped from an Iraq war spending bill earlier this year.

But while farmers still have many differences with the union, the
AgJobs effort is a sign of how the union and growers can work
together, Cunha said.

During the convention this weekend, the union is electing its
executive board. Much of the convention is aimed at informing members
of issues and getting support. And there are presentations on
organizing workers.

Attendees heard from family representatives of six farmworkers who
have died this year, possibly as the result of heat illnesses.

The UFW has argued that the rash of suspected heat-related deaths
show state safety laws and regulations aren't being followed by
growers and labor contractors.

Former Assembly Speaker Fabian Núñez on Saturday presented a film the
Los Angeles Democrat and former labor organizer made to highlight
what he called a failure to enforce state laws protecting farmworkers
from heat illness and other hazards.
--

Bee staff writer Bob Rodriguez contributed to this report.The
reporters can be reached at (559) 441-6330.

.

The View From Behind the Billy Club

The View From Behind the Billy Club

http://www.chicagoreader.com/features/stories/bookreviews/080821/

Police veterans of the 1968 Democratic National Convention get their say.

Battleground Chicago
Frank Kusch
(University of Chicago Press)

By Barry Wightman
August 21, 2008

Reading this book is like being at the dinner table when your usually
bottled-up father finally lets loose about an old, uncomfortable
subject you thought was settled. He drives you nuts; the things he
says embarrass you. But you sit there and listen because he's your
father and he won't be around forever. And strangely enough, he's
kind of making sense.

First published in 2004 but reissued in paperback last May, in time
for this summer's round-number anniversary, Frank Kusch's
Battleground Chicago tells the story of the infamous "police riot" at
the 1968 Democratic National Convention. But here's a first: it's
told from the cops' point of view. Kusch, whose previous book is All
American Boys: Draft Dodgers in Canada from the Vietnam War,
constructs his narrative from interviews he conducted with 80 former
Chicago policemen who were on the street during the convention.

These are regular guys who fought in World War II and Korea, lived in
the bungalow belt, and found themselves on the fault line during one
of the tectonic cultural shifts of the period. And every time one of
them is quoted, the story comes alive. It's hard to read their
accounts of those days­even with their blatant prejudices flying in
your face­and not feel some sympathy.

Former officer Joe Pecoraro: "When I came on, the attitude toward the
police was very respectful. But that changed; the people changed; the
Vietnam War changed everything." Indeed, the war soured the
prosperity-driven optimism of Lyndon Johnson's Great Society (not to
mention his presidency), helped wreck New Deal coalitions, and left
the country marooned in resentment­generation versus generation,
black versus white, liberal versus conservative, hawk versus dove.

It's easy to see which side of the line Kusch's cops stood on. "They
were subvert­ing the entire decade, and the future of the country was
at stake, and our city. The coun­try was really going to hell; it was
becoming a place that we no longer recognized," says another former
cop, Victor Olafson. "They," of course, were the antiwar demonstrators.

"I knew this peace movement," adds Steven Latz. "They were a rotten
generation, and they made each day we went to work harder and our
communities less safe. They joined with the black militants and that
was nothing but trouble, let me tell you."

Pecoraro, Olafson, and Latz might be surprised at who shared at least
some of their views. Columbia University professor Todd Gitlin, who
headed the Students for a Democratic Society in the mid-1960s, wrote
recently that an astounding 40 percent of whites who favored an
American withdrawal from Vietnam also thought the Chicago police had
not used enough force in dealing with the protests. Clearly, the kids
in the street were not the people's choice, and any vision those kids
may have had of inciting revolution was romantic fantasy­Gitlin has
called it "catastrophic idiocy." Their tactics alienated them from
even their most likely allies.

The police certainly overreacted. Mistakes were made, and some own up
to that here. But they don't capitulate to the conventional wisdom
that the violence was police brutality, where every cop was a
criminal and all the sinners saints. "My ass it was," says CPD
veteran Eddie Kelso. "We were not the ones breaking windows and
throwing bottles and tying up traffic and making it so that an honest
man could not make a living. . . ."

Kusch quotes a number of officers who felt they were put in a no-win
situation by Mayor Richard J. Daley, who, among other things, closed
the parks at 11 PM, forcing police to clear them and putting
thousands of people on the streets with nowhere to go. One cop even
casts Daley as a witting provocateur, saying the mayor "wanted to see
a situation where we were going to beat the hell out of the demonstrators."

This gave the hard-core protestors, the yippies and SDS, the fight
they were looking for. Later, yippie leader Jerry Rubin said, "We
wanted exactly what happened. We wanted the tear gas to get so heavy
that the reality was tear gas. . . . We were guilty as hell."

SDS leader and future California state senator Tom Hayden, testifying
afterward at a House Un-American Activities Committee hearing, said
of the police, "It is not really their fault. They were obeying the
orders of Mayor Daley . . . because when we went to jail, they didn't
beat us in jail, they didn't act like irrational monsters in jail."
To the cops' credit, amazingly, nobody was killed or even seriously
injured. No guns went off.

And what about the media? Kusch's subjects have little use for
reporters, who, they note, sometimes looked like "hippies"
themselves. Says Mel Latanzio, "Yeah, they got their bonnets beaten a
little, but if you want to play the game, ya gotta play the game. We
had been getting bad press long before the convention, especially for
what was going on in the black neighborhoods, so what the hell." And
Ernie Watson: "They were trying to make us look as bad as possible."

The cops did look bad. The '68 convention was a PR disaster for the
city. The whole world, after all, was watching.But, as yippie leader
Abbie Hoffman put it years later, "All of the violence of the Sixties
put together doesn't add up to a weekend in Beirut."

In his preface to the new edition, Kusch claims he's taken heat for
giving these men the opportunity to go on the record. The view of the
police as monsters has become establishment history, he says, and
anything that smacks of revisionism is met with "vitriol." But, as he
writes, the book is less an attempt to "exonerate the actions of the
police . . . than to explain them within a historical context and
remove much of the hyperbole and mischaracterizations. . . ." In
other words, he wanted to at least give them the chance to let loose.

.

1968 and all that: Berkeley of the South?

1968 and all that: Berkeley of the South?

http://www.tallahassee.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080822/ENT/808220301/1005

Tallahassee wasn't exactly hippie town, but change was coming

By Kati Schardl • DEMOCRAT STAFF WRITER • August 22, 2008

The September 1968 tabloid published by the Tallahassee Democrat to
welcome students to FSU, FAMU and Tallahassee Junior College (as
Tallahassee Community College was called then) featured ad after ad
touting the city as "Collegetown, USA."

On the surface, it seemed a fitting sobriquet. Tallahassee seemed
insulated from the paroxysms of protest erupting in other university
communities.

The closest approximation to the "Summer of Love," which blossomed in
psychedelic, patchouli-scented profusion on the West Coast in 1967,
was the funky Imports by Vardi emporium on College Avenue. "The big
old house with the red door" was where students went to buy groovy
gear such as Indian print bedspreads ($4.50 each), tatami mats, giant
paper flowers, posters, incense and incense burners and mobiles.

Like, far out, y'all.

But if the local cultural cauldron hadn't yet come to a rolling
boiling, it was certainly simmering smartly in 1968. Metamorphosis
hung in the humid air, and before the year was out, the FSU and FAMU
campuses would be jolted by protests, political unrest and upheavals
in the educational landscape.

FSU would emerge from 1968 with a new nickname ­ "the Berkeley of the
South." The provocative moniker would stick like a Day-Glo decal and
flare into buzzing, neon-hued glory as the '60s waned and the '70s dawned.

The stage was set in 1968 for the ascendancy of Students for a
Democratic Society and firebrands such as "Radical Jack" Lieberman,
who would figure prominently in the incendiary '70s.

The times, they were definitely a-changin', as noted in the
epigraphic Dylan quotes sprinkled throughout the pages of the 1968
"Tally Ho," FSU's yearbook.

One of the biggest local protests of 1968 had to do with one of the
yearbook's sister publications. When FSU President John Champion
refused to let the literary magazine publish a story called "Pig
Knife" because it contained what he considered offensive language,
students and faculty united in protest. There were marches,
impassioned speeches and a 24-hour vigil on the lawn of the Westcott Building.

Champion ­ by all accounts, a gentle, soft-spoken man who detested
confrontation ­ submitted his resignation, then was persuaded by the
Board of Regents to rescind the decision.

Later that year ­ after another wave of controversy over refusing to
grant official student organization status to the SDS ­ Champion was
hospitalized for "extreme exhaustion." His nerves, no doubt, frayed
to cobwebbed wisps by the hubbub, he abruptly resigned in early 1969
and the real fun ­ i.e., the lively, contentious Stanley Marshall era ­ began.

At FAMU, Afro-centric awareness was on the rise, fueled by the visits
of powerful black icons and the university's sponsorship of a seminar
on civil disobedience. Journalist, author and civil-rights movement
documentarian Louis Lomax appeared as part of the university's Artist
Series. Actor and activist Ossie Davis urged FAMU students to "look
for the truth." Controversial congressman and powerful orator Adam
Clayton Powell visited FAMU mere weeks before Martin Luther King
Jr.'s assassination to declare, with eerie prescience, that "the day
of nonviolence is over ­ it is gone with the wind."

On the night of April 4, 1968, as news of the tragic events on that
Memphis hotel balcony spread, a volcano of anguish and anger erupted
on FAMU's campus. Students armed themselves with whatever came to
hand and struck out against passing cars and nearby businesses. The
violence spilled onto South Monroe Street, Gaines Street and Lake
Bradford Road. Police finally cordoned off the campus and took cover
from small-arms sniper fire and rioters armed with bows and arrows.

The riots continued through April 7, spreading to Frenchtown and
causing property damage to both black- and white-owned businesses.
When it was all over, 14 people had been injured and one person
killed ­ 19-year-old Travis E. Crow III, who died from asphyxiation
when his father's grocery store on Lake Bradford Road was firebombed.

FAMU President George W. Gore Jr., led students and community members
in a memorial service in Lee Hall Auditorium on April 9, and later
students joined a 15-block march past the state Capitol led by the
Rev. Raleigh N. Gooden of St. Mary's Primitive Baptist Church.

FAMU's tumultuous school year closed with the passing of one of its
most treasured institutions. White legislators voted to close the law
school that had opened in 1949, and the last graduating class watched
as the law books were stripped from the shelves and shipped over to
FSU's new law school. FAMU reopened its law school in 2002 in downtown Orlando.

That time of flux seems so far away, as misty as myth. But students
today have much in common with their counterparts of four decades
ago. There has been a resurgence of campus activism that mirrors a
rise in environmental and political awareness. The outlook now is
more global, a broadening of consciousness that was initiated with
televised coverage of the Vietnam War, student protests in European
and American capitals, the police brutality at the Democratic
National Convention in Chicago and other seminal events.

When the three-man crew of the Apollo 8 mission made a live Christmas
Eve broadcast while in orbit around the moon, it drew the communal
gaze even further out, into the cosmos.

Whether FSU ­ and by extension, Tallahassee ­ deserved to be called
"the Berkeley of the South" will no doubt always be a subject of
debate for bar-stool philosophers and chroniclers of the era. Those
who were there back then say that even the most fraught anti-war and
anti-censorship protests on the FSU campus were conducted with
Southern gentility.

But along with politeness, there was undeniable passion, intellect,
purpose and an open-hearted feeling of community ­ and the same is true today.

In 40 years, the culture has evolved from "far out" to "peace out,"
which proves that, to quote The Who, the kids are still all right.

.

1968 Chicago Riot Left Mark On Political Protests

Echoes of 1968

1968 Chicago Riot Left Mark On Political Protests

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=93898277

by Ina Jaffe
August 23, 2008

Democrats are gathering for their national convention in Denver with
their party divided by a bruising presidential nomination contest and
the country mired in an unpopular war.

The situation was similar 40 years ago, when Democrats convened in
Chicago. But what riveted the nation's attention were the battles in
the streets between Vietnam War protesters and police. A federal
commission later called it a police riot, and the mayhem outside the
Chicago convention continues to influence political protests today.

No one who knew Chicago thought August 1968 would be another Summer
of Love. The Chicago Seed, an alternative weekly newspaper, wrote:
"If you're coming to Chicago, be sure to wear some armor in your
hair." Mayor Richard J. Daley had amassed a force of 12,000 police
officers, 6,000 National Guard members and 6,000 Army troops.

He assured convention delegates that all would be well.

One of the chief organizers of the anti-war demonstrations, Tom
Hayden, says protest leaders worked for months to get permits from
the city to march, to rally and to camp in the parks.

"We were used to the idea that authorities would stall on permits,
but I think some of us thought that the permits would come through at
the end, so we went forward," he says.

But the permits didn't come. So there was almost nothing protesters
could do without violating the law. The massive crowd that the
organizers hoped for didn't materialize.

"When the week started, there were only 600 or 700 people in the
park," Hayden says. "It grew to about 10,000, nearly all of them from
Chicago."

Violence became a daily event, with marches and rallies broken up by
police with nightsticks and tear gas. It was the same most nights in
the parks. Protesters would gather, and after the 11 p.m. curfew, the
police would move in with clubs and gas, chasing them into the streets.

Violence In The Street

On one of those nights, Vivian Stovall and a mixed-race group of
friends sat down in Grant Park and formed a human chain.

"Next thing we knew, we were being kicked, being pulled apart and
some very racial statements being made. And then I looked up, and
when I looked up that's when I got hit. I still have the scar right
here," Stovall says, pointing to her eyebrow. "I remember feeling
that warm wet stuff on my face, and I was bleeding."

She was 19 years old in 1968. She'd been driving from Washington,
D.C., to Louisiana to start the new semester at Grambling State
University when she and some classmates decided to take a detour to Chicago.

"We were talking while we were on our way there about the
assassination of Robert Kennedy, the assassination of Martin Luther
King [Jr.]. We talked about the Vietnam War," Stovall says. "We just
felt nobody was listening to us at that time anyway, and we wanted to
just have our say or at least be part of something."

The most infamous battle took place on Aug. 28 outside the Conrad
Hilton hotel. It wasn't the most violent confrontation that week by
most accounts, but it's the one that got the most news coverage,
because the Hilton was where the media were stationed.

As it unfolded, CBS engineer Fred Turner described what he saw from
his fifth-floor window:

"Now they're moving in, the cops are moving and they are really
belting these characters. They're grabbing them, sticks are flailing.
People are laying on the ground. I can see them, colored people. Cops
are just belting them; cops are just laying it in. There's piles of
bodies on the street. There's no question about it. You can hear the
screams, and there's a guy they're just dragging along the street and
they don't care. I don't think … I don't know if he's alive or dead.
Holy Jesus, look at him. Five of them are belting him, really, oh,
this man will never get up."

It's not the sort of experience anyone would want to repeat. But
there are people who see something in those days worth reviving.

The Spirit Of The '60s

Mark Cohen is the co-founder of the activist group Recreate '68.
Although he wasn't in Chicago in 1968 ­ he was in Africa with the
Peace Corps ­ Cohen says his organization's name was meant to get
attention and recall the spirit of the '60s, not the violence. He's
been planning to protest at this week's Democratic convention since
he heard it was coming to his hometown of Denver.

"The reason we're protesting is because Mr. Obama's reputation as a
progressive is not really deserved," Cohen says. "For example, his
so-called anti-war stance involves a program to remove combat troops
from Iraq over a period of 16 months. The majority of American people
want those troops removed immediately. As soon as possible."

He was standing in what will be the official demonstration zone for
the convention. He and the rest of Recreate '68 will be in parking
lot A, nearly 300 yards from the convention hall.

"We call it the freedom cage," says Cohen, 62.

The zone will be ringed by two layers of fencing behind a huge white
tent set up for the media. And for protest marches, the sanctioned
route will leave marchers more than a quarter of a mile from the
convention site. Recreate '68 and other groups sued the city of
Denver and the Secret Service to get closer to the action, but a
federal judge upheld the city's plans. Katherine Archuleta, Denver's
lead planner for the convention, said the demonstration zone provides
a fair and safe platform for activists.

"People can go and come as they like. The other thing that we are
doing in the demonstration zone is to provide a stage and speakers
and microphone, so that they can be heard [at] a greater distance,"
Archuleta says. "And that's the city's role ­ finding a balance
between safety and security and the rights of those who would come
and want to raise their voices."

Hayden doesn't see it that way. "I don't mean to exaggerate, but it
is the end of freedom. This is the freedom to protest as designed for
you by any authoritarian state under the direction of the police," he says.

Expanding Agenda

Caged or not, when demonstrators raise their voices in Denver, they
will be talking ­ or singing or shouting ­ about more than the war in
Iraq. The environment will be on the agenda, as well as poverty,
health care, immigrant rights and more.

Michael Heaney, a political scientist at the University of Florida,
says that because of 1968, "we've now become a 'movement society.' "

"What 1968 demonstrated was that protest could be an effective tactic
for bringing about social change," he says. "So important new protest
tactics were invented: the sit-in, the large demonstration. And
people learned that this was a way they could effectively influence
the government."

Heaney's been studying the current anti-war movement and has noticed
something interesting about who's in it. He says there are
essentially two groups ­ one made up of people who were active in the
anti-war movement 40 years ago, and the other made up of people in
their 20s ­ and very little in between.

The convention protests planned in Denver will have a kind of retro
quality. In addition to Recreate '68, there's another activist group
called Tent State University, a reference to Kent State in Ohio,
where four students were killed while protesting the war in Vietnam.

Outsiders Moving In

Meanwhile, the organization that Hayden helped found in the 1960s,
Students for a Democratic Society, is springing up again on college campuses.

Over the past four decades, Hayden has gone from outside agitator to
Democratic Party insider. He served in the California state
Legislature for 18 years and has been a delegate to national
Democratic conventions six times.

Stovall has also become a party activist. She's been to four
conventions, and she'll be in Denver as a delegate for Barack Obama.
It's kind of silly, she says, to try to keep protesters away from the
delegates, many of whom have put in time on picket lines and marches
just like she has.

"A large percentage of those delegates have people out there who are
rallying or protesting issues that they care about," Stovall says.
"And as a matter of fact, as a delegate, I might get out there myself."

.

Re-Thinking the Sixties

[See URL for audio link.]

Re-Thinking the Sixties

http://www.publicbroadcasting.net/kuar/.artsmain/article/11/1172/1347234/Radio/Re-Thinking.the.Sixties/

Tom Hayden talks about Sixties activism. Gil Halstead reflects on the
anniversary on the My Lai massacre. Suze Rotolo was Bob Dylan's
companion in the early 60's. Charles Monroe-Kane provides a Gen-X
perspective. Rick Perlstein charts a significant cultural movement.

The Democratic Convention in 1968 was eclipsed by the violence in
Chicago between the police and the anti-war protesters. This hour, we
look back at the legacy of the sixties: Tom Hayden, one of the
founders of Students for a Democratic Society and later a State
Assemblyman and Senator in California, talks with Steve Paulson.

WPR reporter Gil Halstead considers himself a veteran of the anti-war
movement. He went to Vietnam for the third time to report on the 40th
Anniversary of the My Lai Massacre and to sort out his own complex
feelings about the War, and prepared this report.

Suze Rotolo was Bob Dylan's inseparable companion in the early 60s'..
She's now written a memoir called "A Freewheelin' Time. Anne
Strainchamps talks with her about Dylan and the scene they shared.
And we hear lots of Dylan's music.

TTBOOK producer and GenExer Charles Monroe-Kane is tired of hearing
Baby Boomers wax nostalgic and he tells us why.

Rick Perlstein is a historian who thinks the real story of the
sixties is the rise of the modern conservative movement. His books
include "Before the Storm" and "Nixonland: The Rise of a President
and the Fracturing of America." Perlstein tells Jim Fleming that
everything in the sixties seemed apocalyptic.
--

To the Best of Our Knowledge is an audio magazine of ideas - two
hours of smart, entertaining radio for people with curious minds.

The Whole World Was Watching

The Whole World Was Watching

http://www.inthesetimes.com/article/3876/the_whole_world_was_watching/

40 years ago this week, Chicago police battled protesters at the DNC.
Two '60s radicals remember the madness, and look to Denver for change

By Laura S. Washington
August 23, 2008

In August 1968, the most wrongheaded war in American history was
being executed badly and brutally in distant Southeast Asia.

Yet 40 years ago this week, when the Democratic Party gathered in
Chicago to nominate its standard-bearer, the world was riveted by the
blood on avenues, sidewalks and parks much closer to home.

The '68 Democratic National Convention debacle remains a symbol of
everything that went wrong with American politics, society and
culture in that tumultuous and iconic year. It was five days of
mayhem in the Windy City, five days that left the Democratic Party in
shambles.

Outside, along Chicago's gleaming Michigan Avenue and in leafy
Lincoln Park, Mayor Richard J. Daley's police department went on an
officially sanctioned rampage. The cops clubbed and tear-gassed
antiwar protesters and bystanders alike. Inside the Chicago
Amphitheater, "Boss" Daley wrestled with other Democratic Party
leaders over Hubert Humphrey, the unpopular and ultimately doomed nominee.

In August 1968, those explosive battles put Chicago at the epicenter
of one of the most searing political and social upheavals of the 20th
century. In August 2008, a U.S. senator from Chicago will be anointed
the first black major-party nominee for the presidency of the United States.

On a sweltering Chicago evening early this month, two '60s radicals –
veterans of the '68 convention – gathered with a diverse crowd of
journalists, progressive activists and students on the city's North
Side to contemplate the past and future of the Democratic Party.

Don Rose, famous for coining the phrase "the whole world is watching"
amidst the convention chaos, was press secretary for the National
Mobilization Committee to End the War in Vietnam (MOBE) in August 1968.

The political wise man has helped elect mayors and senators since
then, from Harold Washington to Paul Simon. Now 77, Rose - a mentor
to David Axelrod, Obama's top campaign strategist - is also an
accomplished food and jazz critic.

In '68 Marilyn Katz was a petite sorority girl-turned MOBE security
chief who knew her way around a bullhorn. Today Katz runs a
well-connected communications consulting firm that advises Boss
Daley's son, Richard M. Daley, on a plethora of causes, from
affordable housing to environmental policy.

Over dinner at Yoshi's Café, the two reflected on political lessons
learned and previewed Obama's coronation in Denver.

Rose arrived in a black T-shirt from the 1996 DNC convention in
Chicago. On the front was a Chicago Police Department seal, and on the back:

WE KICKED
YOUR FATHER'S ASS
IN 1968…
….WAIT 'TIL YOU SEE WHAT
WE DO TO YOU!

The evening's theme was the violence of the era ­ the American
Vietnam War casualties that would eventually reach 50,000, the
murders of Malcolm X, Dr. Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy, and
that calamitous August.

'We're still right'

LW: What was the impact the 1968 convention had on America and the
world? Was there one key moment?

Rose: The Battle of Michigan Avenue can be fought and re-fought. I
don't intend to do that. All I can say is we were right, they were
wrong. We're still right, they are still wrong.

The violence that took place at the convention must be understood in
a worldwide conflagration of violence from the War in Vietnam to the
uprising in Czechoslovakia, to the uprising in Paris. In France they
look upon '68 as the defining year for the French Republic, the
defining year of the 20th century.

We saw the murder of Dr. King, for whom I had been working for the
past three years. We saw the murder of Robert Kennedy. We saw an
April peace march in Chicago destroyed by police who were sending a
signal to the world to stay away from Chicago.

The really pivotal moment in 1968 was the murder of Robert Kennedy. I
was never a Robert Kennedy fan…but believe, had he lived, he would
have been the nominee of the Democratic Party and would have won.
Chicago would have been much more peaceful…

Lessons Learned

Is there a lesson to learn from that violence? Lessons we haven't learned?

Rose: There was a lesson learned. The white progressive community saw
police brutality taking place right before their eyes. Police
brutality was the battle cry in the black community for decades, and
it became one of those things that people were inured to. (Whites
would say) "Well, blacks always talk about police brutality. Was it
true, was it not true?"

In April 1968 and in August, police brutality became a reality,
something people can no longer forget.

Katz: In the next four years, 28 Black Panthers were assassinated by
the FBI or their agents. I think it was a wakeup call where we saw
the underbelly of our own country, that when the velvet glove was
stripped away, there was an iron fist beneath it.

Like many of my generation, I was willing to use violence to fight
violence and I had an arrogance about the value of life. That is the
one thing I would have to say has profoundly changed in me. I would
have to say for me permanently, I would probably reject violence as a
useful form of revolution.

In this age of terrorism, there has been much said about regrets.
Would you do anything differently if you were back in Grant Park in
the last week of August of this month?

Rose: The only thing in retrospect is, it would have been better to
have teased out some of the police spies in our own organization. As
it turned out…much of the violence was perpetrated by police moles.

I suppose if we'd been more vigilant about who might be the moles and
traitors among us, it might have been different.

Katz: I regret nothing. In fact one of the things that motivated me
in 2002 to organize that first demonstration against the war at which
Barack spoke was the lesson I learned from it ­ is that you'd better
take the public space before the public space becomes nonexistent.
You either create space or it goes away.

If there was a mistake in 1968, it was by the Democratic Party. If
they had embraced the civil rights movement, the anti-war movement,
they would have won. It was not the demonstrators that caused the
failure of the Democratic Party to win, it was the failure of the
Democratic Party to look at the emerging (progressive) movements and
know that was where their future was. That failure to understand
that…has hamstrung the Democratic Party from that moment until today.

Katz's Road to Chicago

Katz, then a privileged co-ed, was first radicalized by the violence
against civil rights activists in the South. It led to a "loss of innocence."

Katz: I was raised in Chicago, modeled at Saks Fifth Avenue, was a
sorority girl, came home to Northwestern (University) to get married.
In 1966 I was standing in my dorm room one morning, listening to King
lead people over the bridge at Selma and where the white southern
police beat the crap out of people, just demonstrating for civil
rights, and at that moment I decided that I couldn't just write about
history, I needed to make it.

So I marched off to my first Students for a Democratic Society
meeting, determined to show the world that it wasn't just dirty
hippies who could be against the war and for civil rights. Normal
people like me could be, too. That was in the spring of '66.
Eventually I broke the engagement, turned in the sorority pin and
became an SDS leader.

During '66, '67, '68, I also met folks like (Jose) "Cha Cha" Jimenez,
Bobby Rush and (Black Panther) Fred Hampton. And all the folks in
both the black and the white communities who were beginning to create
a dissenting bloc against both the war in Vietnam and against the
oppression of blacks and people of color in Chicago and elsewhere.

What was really moving to me in '68 is that there was an alliance
between Dr. King, the Black Panther Party and the Young Lords, a
Puerto Rican group. There was a moment in early April when Dr. King,
just before he died, made his first public speech condemning the war…

It was hopeful because King had embraced the anti-war movement, and
it felt to me as if young people were in touch with Paris and Prague
and Mexico City and Sienna. We felt like we were really on the brink
of a revolution of peace and love and real change. …And then he was killed.

In '66 we had hope. We had hope that if we acted we could change it.
The killings of King, Malcolm X, Robert F. Kennedy and Fred Hampton
were a loss of innocence…

…In '68 it was a small demonstration, people were scared. The SDS was
fairly small, the hippies did not have a base, though they had good dope.

Sunday night (on the eve of the convention), when the police decided
to close the park at 11 and came forward – with fire trucks mounted,
with tear gas, with billy clubs – and marched westward, running over
everything, people for the first time ever, unlike April, fought back.

It wasn't just a change about politics. It was a change about
culture, authority and who is in control.

The End of Boss Conventions

Inside the convention hall, the Democratic Party honchos were
battling as well. Rose argues that that turned out to be a very good
thing for democracy ­ and Barack Obama.

Rose: The 1968 convention was the last boss-run convention. If Hubert
Humphrey had come out within a few weeks with an antiwar position, he
might have defeated Nixon and the world would be very, very different.

What happened subsequently were the so-called McGovern reforms, which
emanated directly from the mishandling of the 1968 convention. It
turned the power back to the people as it should have been. It began
a series of reforms where the primary elections began to have real
meaning. Primary elections at '68 and prior to that were really
covers for what the bosses wanted. There were few legitimate
primaries. Most of them were run by the hacks and that's how Hubert
Humphrey came to be.

…The reforms that took place under McGovern in subsequent years led
us in a direct path to what happened this year. If we had had the
same kind of boss-run convention, boss-run primary series this year,
there is no doubt that Barack Obama would barely have struggled
through it and Hillary Clinton may have been the nominee.

So the Democratic Party was reformed in many ways, with a lot of bad
bumps along the way, by what happened in '68. Locally, the Democratic
convention ignited the independent political movement largely along
Chicago's Lakefront, which later merged with black independents who
had been working through the '60s with the advent of Martin Luther
King and so forth. Following the murder of Fred Hampton, black and
white independents came together. And you can draw a direct line from
that moment to Harold Washington.

The 1983 election of Harold Washington as Chicago's first black mayor
came courtesy of a progressive coalition of blacks, Latinos and
so-called "Lakefront liberals." Katz and Rose were there, once again,
as advisors and operatives.

Katz: My straight line goes from '66/'68 to the folks who began to
work together and formed the core group of the Harold Washington
campaign. (Almost) everyone I worked with in 1982 I had met as a kid
in '68. I believe that Barack Obama could only have emerged in
Chicago. Why? Because since '68 there was a web of relationships
between black civil rights groups, anti-war groups, women's
activities, immigrant rights activities, that has sustained and grown.

Drafting a Revolution

In 1968, an involuntary draft fueled much of the anguish over the
war. If we had a draft now, would there be violence?

Rose: If there were a draft now, the anti-Iraq demonstrations would
be a hundred-fold larger than they are now, maybe more. The
difference between the size of demonstrations on the Iraq issue
versus what happened back in Vietnam are attributable to two factors:
the fact that 50,000 rather than 4,000 Americans died, but also the
draft. This is why Charlie Rangel, the congressman from New York,
said, "Let's have a draft." He wanted to create a backlash against
the war. And that would have done it.

Whatever happened to the revolution? That story has not largely been
told. Why did it fade away?

Katz: It is very hard to sustain a revolution after a moment of
crisis. Very few people know how to do it anywhere in the world,
which is why you have so much state capitalism. What is really
interesting to me is that ('60s radicals) like Bill Ayers, Bernardine
Dohrn and Mike Klonsky have managed to live evolved lives in tune to
fundamental social ideals, while figuring out a way to not only join
the system but make changes. Small schools movement, juvenile
justice, a whole series of things.

40 Years Later, a New Movement from Chicago

What we did here in Chicago had international implications: In '68
there was a workers' movement in Paris, there was a worldwide
movement of students. We lost that in the intervening 40 years. Now
in 2008, with Barack Obama, we have a renewed sense that the whole
world is watching again.

Rose: Looking back on '68, Chicago was the crucible of everything
that was happening in America. It was a crucible of the student
movement. We had the SDS headquartered here. We had the SDS meeting
here. It was a crucible of the civil rights movement, beginning with
the formation of CORE (Congress of Racial Equality) and SNCC (Student
Non-Violent Coordinating Committee). It was the crucible of the
anti-war movement. Everything that epitomized the '60s was occurring
here, and it looks as if it is beginning again. The movement is not
revolutionary, at this point, but evolutionary.

Katz: I think that millions of young people are flocking to Barack,
as we did to the anti-war movement. In fact, the demonstrations in
2002 and 2003 were bigger than anything we had between 1963 and 1968.
There were millions of people marching against Bush's war, far bigger
than anything against Vietnam.

Bush was successful in pointing out that no matter what we did, no
matter how many millions of people demonstrated against the war, no
matter how many state governments or city councils passed resolutions
against the war, he was not going to change his policy. And the
lesson for young people who are supporting Barack Obama in droves is
that this is their chance to take government as they see it, for
their generation. New paradigm, new generation.

The Democratic Party will gather once again later this month.
Everybody is expecting a big party in Denver. Will it be an Obama
coronation? Is that what we should be looking for?

Rose: I don't expect anything serious to occur in the way of violence
or significant demonstrations. They are setting aside protest areas
as Chicago did in '96…there is a group of so-called anarchists. In my
Red Squad file there is a wonderful line that says "Rose is a member
of the anarchists." There will be the nihilists demonstrating against
the world, against the Democratic Party, against Obama, against
everybody. I think it will be contained.

Katz: In 1964 the Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act were
passed. Since that time, white men in the South have never voted for
a Democrat in any majority. So while we look at '68 (in terms of) the
war and the convention, the biggest reason for the loss was the
Democratic Party and Congress embracing civil rights as their agenda.
I believe in this election, with the issues of war and peace and the
inclusive agenda. This election, more than any other, is not so much
about two men, but who we are as a country and who we want to be.

So how do you resolve Obama's move to the center? What about holding
his feet to the fire? Don't we need to keep him true to progressive issues?

Katz: We have to get him into office so then we can be the left
opposition. I think it is a delicate balance between those of us who
are progressive, how much you push, how much you don't want to put
him in very difficult positions that would embarrass him or give John
McCain some advantage.

I think it's a very complicated question. I think Barack is going to
be who he's going to be. I am going to argue quietly and be very
supportive. On Jan. 20, if things aren't going right, then I will
lead the first demonstration.

Rose: I believe that almost everything the Obama people do, like the
McCain people, like the Hillary people, is a fairly well-tested proposition.

Given that, I think Obama's positions, the ones we like, don't like
and applaud, are all very well-tested. I know the guys who are doing
these things, and they have run a virtually flawless campaign. So I
have a lot of confidence that they know what they're doing when they
trim their sails and when they attack this way and attack the other
way. I believe they are doing what will win and I think they have a
concept of what will win.

That doesn't necessarily mean they will win, and that doesn't
necessarily mean that I agree with everything they are doing in the
process of winning, but what I do believe is that they are making
correct political, if not moral judgments, every millimeter of the way.

Coining a Phrase

How did you coin the phrase, "The whole world is watching"?

Rose: It gets better with every telling. It was Sunday night, when
the first head-beatings took place in Lincoln Park, and all the
violence was occurring. I was in charge of the press for the MOBE. We
had a big pressroom in a little storefront along State Street, not
far from the Hilton Hotel. And the next morning we were holding a
press conference where we were going to display to everyone the
victims of the police rioting in Lincoln Park. Some of them were
yippies, some of them were just ordinary people who had been going to
the rock concerts there, some of them were MOBE people.

(SDS leader) Rennie Davis was our rotating spokesman that morning,
and he got his first look at some of these victims and it made the
Spirit of '76 look like a band-aid. And he looked at me before he
went on, and he said, "Jesus, this is really bad, what can we say?"

And I said, "Oh, tell them the whole world is watching, and they'll
never get away with it again."

Well, the whole world was watching, but I was wrong – they got away with it.

[Editor's note: The transcript on which this article is based has
been edited for clarity and brevity.]

Laura S. Washington, an In These Times senior editor, teaches
journalism at DePaul University and is a columnist for the Chicago Sun-Times.

.

Underground establishment

Underground establishment

http://www.mydesert.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080824/LIFESTYLES01/808240305/-1/newsfront

Bruce Fessier • The Desert Sun • August 24, 2008

Forty years ago this week, riots at the Democratic National
Convention in Chicago became one of the pivotal cultural events of the 1960s.

Yippies, Black Panthers and members of the National Mobilization
Committee to End the War in Vietnam (MOBE) protested in the streets
and parks, making a more lasting impression than the delegates
nominating Hubert Humphrey inside the convention.

But a key element of that landmark episode has either been forgotten
or whited out from many of the historical accounts.

Paul Krassner, the noted satirest who co-founded the Youth
International Party (the Yippies), said what's missing is the role of
the stoned activist.

Krassner, now living in Desert Hot Springs, was a writer and
character in the semi-animated documentary, "Chicago 10," due out
Tuesday on DVD.

Krassner had been an important leader of the underground press since
1958, when he founded his seminal alternative magazine, The Realist.
People magazine called Krassner the "father of the underground
press." George Carlin called him "Funnier than Danny Kaye, more
powerful than Jerry Lewis, as important as acid."

The idea for the Yippie protest was conceived on LSD, Krassner said,
before the group had even been named.

He told The Desert Sun he and the late Abbie Hoffman, who co-founded
the Yippies with Jerry Rubin, took LSD during a hurricane in the
Florida Keys in December 1967.

They were watching President Lyndon B. Johnson make a speech on their
black and white TV set, which seemed purple and orange. LBJ's head
suddenly appeared to be among the heads on Mount Rushmore. They heard
him vow not to lose America's half of the Vietnam War.

"That was the moment where we decided to go to Chicago to protest the
war," Krassner said. "It was a bipartisan war, but it happened to be
on the Democrats' watch. And who wanted to go to Miami for the
Republican Convention during the off-season?"

MOBE had already planned a protest. Its national coordinator, Rennie
Davis, said in November of '68 that he wanted to show, "There are
thousands of young people in this country who do not want to see a
rigged convention rubber-stamp another four years of Lyndon Johnson's war."

MOBE included serious political activists. Tom Hayden, author of the
1962 Port Huron statement espousing the goals of the Students for a
Democratic Society (SDS), was known as the chief ideologue of the
"New Left." MOBE chairman David Dellinger went to prison for dodging
the World War II draft.

But Krassner, Hoffman and Rubin also had bright, young activist
friends. Folk singer Phil Ochs created their motto when he said,
"Demonstrations should turn you on, not off."

They had used stunts to gain media attention ­ from throwing cash at
the stock exchange to "levitating" the Pentagon. Their goal, said
Krassner, was "showing the ridiculousness of the actions of the establishment."

Krassner, Hoffman and Rubin had to figure out a name for themselves
before announcing their plans at a press conference in New York on
Dec. 31, 1967.

Krassner, as a longtime journalist, said they had to give the media a
"who" to go with their "what, when, where, why and how." Hoffman said
"Identity is defined by myth propagated through the media."

Krassner went through the alphabet looking for a rhyme with hippie
because he said the hippies had become politically radicalized around
the globe.

"I almost gave up until 'Yippie' and then I knew it," he said.

When the name was reported, a Chicago headline proclaimed, "Yipes!
The Yippies are coming!" Krassner said then, "a myth had become a reality."

'The world is watching'

There were natural conflicts between the angry young left of MOBE and
YIP, with its advocacy of certain drugs.

"They thought it was irresponsible to just sit in the park smoking a
joint while the war was going on," Krassner said. "Then there was a
cross fertilization."

Krassner said that was the beginning of the "stoned activist" phenomenon.

"The Yippies were really an amalgam of the internalization of drugs.
That was inextricably tied in with our views against the war because
both of them had to do with dehumanization. Here you could go to
prison for smoking weed and (in Vietnam), they got napalm dropped on
them. It still comes out as dehumanization."

MOBE and YIP had a meeting in March to plan a joint nonviolent
protest. They sought permits to have a Festival of Life in Lincoln
Park, as opposed to the "death party" they feared an angry protest
could become after Chicago Mayor Richard Daley said he would order
police to "shoot to kill any arsonist or anyone with a Molotov
cocktail in his hand."

A national TV audience saw CBS reporters Mike Wallace and Dan Rather
roughed up by helmeted cops. CBS anchor Walter Cronkite called them
"a bunch of thugs," creating an indelible memory of the Chicago convention.

Krassner said the turning point came when violence at Grant Park was
captured on camera.

"Reporters were wearing gas masks," he said. "That's when the
chanting began, 'The whole world is watching.' It was like revealing
under the Norman Rockwell image what was really happening. The
citizens had become the enemy."

Aftermath

A grand jury convened to investigate the violence indicted eight
demonstrators and eight police officers. All were acquitted or had
charges dismissed.

Krassner knows the protests didn't end the Vietnam War, but he
believes they had a social impact. "Young people all across the
country were using LSD as a vehicle to de-program themselves from a
mainstream culture and re-program themselves with a more humane value
system - more concerned with the earth and more spiritual than
materialistic," he said.

"It was part of what I saw as a global evolutionary jump in
consciousness, which I think is happening today. But that may just be
wishful thinking. It could have been damaged chromosomes from too much LSD."

.

In 1972, both conventions came to Miami Beach; so did celebs

In 1972, both conventions came to Miami Beach; so did celebs

http://www.miamiherald.com/news/breaking-news/story/655772.html

Aug. 24, 2008
By TYLER BRIDGES
tbridges@MiamiHerald.com

EDITOR`S NOTE: The Democratic National Convention gets underway in
Denver on Monday.

Thirty-six years ago, it was Miami Beach's turn to host, not only the
Democratic but also the GOP convention, which had also been held here
in 1968 -- thanks to Key Biscayne part-time resident Richard M. Nixon.

Warren Beatty came to town. So did Julie Christie, Shirley MacLaine,
Jerry Rubin, Abbie Hoffman, and the Democratic Party's heaviest
hitters: George Wallace, Edmund Muskie, Hubert Humphrey, Ted Kennedy
and a South Dakota senator named George McGovern.

When it was the Republicans' turn six weeks later, Jane Fonda arrived
fresh from a two-week tour of North Vietnam -- to help galvanize the
anti-war protests. The other entertainers who showed up -- Sammy
Davis Jr., Frank Sinatra and Jimmy Stewart - came to support the
president. That would be Richard Nixon. He was running for
reelection, along with his vice president, Spiro Agnew.

Thirty-six ago, first the Democrats, then the Republicans held their
national convention in Miami Beach. With memories fresh of the riots
at the 1968 Democratic Convention in Chicago, local police were given
riot helmets, three-foot-long billy clubs, chest-high plastic shields
and masks for tear gas.

But the riots materialized only briefly, in large part because of the
tactics of Miami Beach's gregarious police chief, Rocky Pomerance.

The 275-pound Pomerance was a former mailman whose face, according to
a Herald profile written then, ''still bears traces of the boxing
ring.'' He liked to quote Shakespeare and Tennyson, and he didn't
adhere to the typical police approach of the times to street
disturbances: cracking the heads of everyone in sight, as Chicago
police had done. Pomerance emphasized nonviolence, negotiation and
turning a blind eye to minor infractions such as smoking marijuana in public.

With the nation's eyes upon South Florida twice in one year -- first
in July for the Democratic gathering, then in August for the
Republican event -- Pomerance's approach worked, except for the final
night when the anger and the passions of the turbulent time couldn't
be stilled.

Miami is currently bidding to host both conventions again, in 2004.
The Miami-Dade County Commission will vote Tuesday on whether to
finance both events. Beginning on July 15, a Democratic site
committee will tour Miami and the proposed convention site, the
AmericanAirlines Arena. The Republicans will visit in August.

A DIFFERENT TIME, ERA

Local authorities were on edge in the days before convention began

In 1972, both conventions were at the Miami Beach Convention Center.
It was a different time, a different era.

The Vietnam War still raged, and so did protesters in the streets.
They promised to come to Miami Beach in full force. Local authorities
were on edge even before the Democrats were gaveled to order on July 10.

One rumor had anti-war protesters planning to cause havoc by dumping
LSD into the local water supply. They were also said to be planning
to scatter marijuana seeds from the air so pot plants would be plentiful.

Jerry Rubin and Abbie Hoffman, who led the Youth International Party
-- the Yippies -- told Pomerance at a public meeting that they
planned to lead 10,000 naked protesters down Collins Avenue.

''If you can get 10,000 people to walk naked down the asphalt on a
hot July day, I'll lead the parade,'' Pomerance responded. ''And wait
until you see what I use for a baton.'' Everyone laughed but Rubin and Hoffman.

Yippies, Zippies, Vietnam Veterans Against the War, the People's Pot
Party, the Young Socialist Alliance, Students for a Democratic
Society -- all came to Miami Beach to attract attention for their causes.

On Pomerance's recommendation, Miami Beach City Commissioners made
Flamingo Park available to what were called the ''nondelegates.''
Uniformed police would stay out.

Several thousand youths set up tents and lean-tos in the park five
blocks south of the convention center. They were free to smoke
marijuana, or do just about anything else that was peaceful.

Murray Dubbin, a dapper Democratic state representative, smoked a
pipe as he walked in the park one day.

''Hey, man, what have you got in that pipe?'' a protester called out.
''I'm smoking the usual,'' said Dubbin.

``Your usual or our usual?''

That kind of stuff appalled law-and-order types such as Harold Rosen,
a World War II and Korean War veteran who was Miami Beach's vice
mayor. Just before the convention began, a Yippie tried to toss a
39-cent pumpkin pie into his face at a City Commission meeting. Rosen
decked him with a right to the jaw.

''I didn't want them sleeping in Flamingo Park,'' Rosen said recently.

But Pomerance figured that he could control protesters more easily if
they congregated in one place. He also made it a point to befriend
Rubin, Hoffman and other leaders. He even provided them with bullhorns.

Pomerance understood that they wanted the attention of television
cameras and newspaper reporters, not a nightstick to the head. So
with the help of Seymour Gelber, who worked for the state attorney's
office, Pomerance negotiated the details of each day's protests in advance.

But to acquire more information, he sent undercover cops to the park.

''We'd float into Flamingo Park and go from tent to tent,'' said
Richard Barreto, then a 23-year-old cop who later became Miami
Beach's police chief. He wore a tie-dyed shirt and bell-bottom jeans
with flowers and peace signs sewn in them. He had a headband around
his afro. Neighbors thought he was a drug dealer.

Flamingo Park ''was a Woodstock-like atmosphere,'' Barreto added.
``They would organize with their bullhorns. We'd provide information
to our superiors so they'd have a heads up.''

Later in the convention, when he wore a uniform, Barreto picked
flowers on Lincoln Road and gave them to demonstrators. ``It would
take the wind out of their sails.''

A TRIUMPH OF MATURITY

Democratic Convention itself was also peaceful, if unruly

During the four-day Democratic Convention, only two people were
arrested and two others injured. Four years earlier in Chicago, 680
people were arrested and 1,381 were injured. ''A Triumph of
Maturity,'' The New York Times headlined. Pomerance received kudos
from Walter Cronkite on down.

The action inside the convention hall was peaceful, although unruly.

Senator McGovern, a preacher's son who promised to end the war,
arrived in Miami Beach just short of the delegate vote count needed
to win the nomination. Sen. Humphrey, Gov. Wallace and Sen. Muskie
each held out hope that he could deny McGovern a first-ballot victory
and win the nomination himself. But with his 34-year-old campaign
manager, Gary Hart, managing the action, McGovern won a floor fight
the first day to claim the necessary delegates.

He picked a little-known senator from Missouri, Thomas Eagleton, as
his running mate. But the schedule spun out of control on the final
night of the convention, when McGovern was to accept the nomination
before a nationwide television audience. Delegates insisted on voting
for 80 people for vice president -- sitcom character Archie Bunker
among them -- so McGovern spoke long after most Americans had gone to bed.

''It was the best 2 a.m. speech you never heard,'' said Mike Abrams,
then a young party activist and later a state representative.

In winning the nomination backed by peaceniks, women activists and
black supporters -- typically labeled ''insurgents'' by the press --
McGovern smashed the aging coalition that had carried the Democratic
Party since the New Deal. In the process, he alienated Big Labor's
boss, George Meany, and such big-city bosses as Chicago's Richard Daley.

McGovern never had the chance to unify the party. Before the month
was out, Eagleton had stepped aside following disclosures that he had
undergone electric shock treatments in the 1960s. Sargent Shriver, a
Kennedy-brother-in-law, replaced him.

By the time the Republicans met in Miami Beach beginning on Aug. 21,
Nixon held an insurmountable 26-point lead over McGovern. His aides
carefully scripted the convention, minute-by-minute, even allowing
time for ''spontaneous'' laughter.

Once again, Pomerance and city officials opened up Flamingo Park to
demonstrators, ''though protest groups figure to make more trouble
this time,'' Newsweek reported.

WE WERE SCARED

The protesters' numbers had nearly doubled, and they were angrier,
given that it was Nixon's war.

On the night before the Republican Convention began, protesters
surrounded Mike Thompson's new Lincoln Continental as he drove five
other orange-jacketed Florida delegates by the Fontainebleau Hotel.
The demonstrators pounded on the car. ''We were scared for our
lives,'' he recalled. He stepped on the accelerator. They fell by the wayside.

The following night, hundreds of Vietnam veterans marched on the
convention center in the rain, chanting, ``Bring our brothers home.''

A night later, when delegates formally nominated Nixon, the
protesters turned the heat up a notch, shattering windows and denting
cars outside the convention hall. For the first time, Pomerance
ordered widespread arrests. In all, 212 men and women were detained.

Authorities learned that the antiwar demonstrators planned to disrupt
the convention the following night, Aug. 23, when Nixon would end the
gathering with a prime-time acceptance speech. The officials brought
in 50 buses to seal off an area fronting Meridian Avenue where
protesters planned a sit-in blockade. They also decided to bus in all
delegates from their beach hotels.

That night, one group of protesters marched on the Fontainebleau, a
prime locale for delegates. Another group headed to the convention
center. Many of these protesters were looking for trouble.

They succeeded in forcing delegates off several buses. ``Twenty
hippie girls surrounded me, ``one young female South Carolina
delegate told The Miami Herald. ``They bounced me around like a
ping-pong ball.''

The Republican delegates felt terrorized. But all of them made it
into the hall, and the convention went off as planned. Police did
arrest 934 people, but only 33 people were injured.

Chicago is remembered for its violence. Miami Beach is not.

''Afterward, we felt like we had done our job,'' said Gelber. ``They
had been entitled to protest, and they had protested. There were no
major injuries, and we got them out of Miami Beach safely.''

Pomerance -- who died in 1994 -- won such acclaim that he was hired
to help plan future conventions, and his methods became standard
operating procedure.

''Rocky was a dominating figure,'' Gelber said.

.

Burning Man: puts other festivals in the shade

Burning Man: puts other festivals in the shade

http://www.guardian.co.uk/travel/2008/aug/20/burningman.festival?page=all

Piers Moore Ede tells us why America's premier counter-culture event
is far more than just a naked camping fest

Piers Moore Ede guardian.co.uk,
August 20 2008

In late 1986, a beach party celebrating the summer solstice marked
the first official Burning Man. Within a few years, its participants
had become so many, and its activities so outlandish, that founder
Larry Harvey and his friends decided to move the festival to
somewhere more appropriate. They chose the Black Rock desert, a
100-mile prehistoric lakebed in north-western Nevada, where
temperatures regularly reach 110°F.

By 1997, Burning Man was already well on the way to becoming a
cultural phenomenon. That year 10,000 people turned up to experience
a week of desert living, far outside the mainstream culture of the
United States. Within "Black Rock City", participants abide by a gift
economy, in which commerce of any type is expressly forbidden.
"Burners" must bring all their own food, camping equipment and water;
and are expected to "participate" in one form or another. Many choose
to construct extraordinary temporal pieces of art: full size
buildings made of driftwood and junk, flashing sculptures belching
flames into the night. Walking around the desert after dark, this
formerly empty expanse shimmers with a thousand projections and
creations, impromptu performances, DJ booths, fantastical art cars
resembling pirate ships and dragonflies. "It's like stepping through
the looking glass," one Burner told me. "The default world – which is
what we call the world outside – just can't compare with this."

In 2007, numbers at Burning Man reached 35,000. There were people of
every age group, from every stratum of society. I was among them,
knowing no one, expecting little more than a fun week in a somewhat
surreal environment. And yet, like thousands before me, the week was
transformative, life changing, instantly addictive. This third
largest city in Nevada (vanishing "without a trace" after the
festival') was spotlessly clean, full of highly creative and
considerate individuals. People travelled everywhere by bicycle, some
of them naked. Everywhere I went, people offered me food, free rides
on their "mutant vehicles", invitations to all-night parties, yoga
lessons, fire juggling demonstrations. Dressed in bizarre costumes,
wearing sand goggles and dust masks, it seemed easy to take people at
face value, little caring what they did outside Black Rock. The
annual theme, which last year was entitled Green Man, seemed to
perfectly mesh with the zeitgeist. Invention and great creativity was
needed to rethink the carbon-based structure of our world. At Burning
Man that world seemed to rise up in the present moment, ecologically
sound and full of laughter.

It would be all to easy to write off Burning Man as a desert rave, an
escape valve for overstressed executives, a 21st-century update on
Woodstock. But more than any of those things, Burning Man is a
philosophy, an attempt to reinvent the parameters and constraints of
society. Within the most advanced capitalist economy in the world,
participants choose to free themselves from commerce. Art works are
anonymous, often destroyed at the end of the week, even in the case
of colossal structures taking months to build. People make an effort
to help each other – a necessary step, actually, given the
potentially hostile natural environment. Unlike any other festival
I've visited, it's one without celebrity, corporate logos, or
personal egos of any kind.

"Given the current cultural and political climate in the United
States," Geoffrey told me, a veteran Burner of seven years, "this is
really the only sane place left. I've been incredibly broke this year
and wasn't sure I was going to make it, but then I realised that I
had to be here, it's the only truly sacred experience open to me right now."

Perhaps more even than the enlightening effects of doing without
money, running water or cell phone connection, Burning Man seems to
effect a spiritual magnetism on those who attend. From above, the
circular design of the city, carefully zoned each year, seems akin to
some ancient pagan site. With its fire worship, close connection to
nature, and emphasis on participation, Burning Man offers a
transcendent experience to all comers. Each year, a Temple of
Forgiveness invites people to inscribe the names of loved ones who
have passed away on its walls and ceilings, before the whole
structure goes up in flames, in a grand gesture of emancipation. A
central tent hosts Wiccan dances, group zazen, chanting and tribal
drum circles, invoking a spiritual dimension without dogma or belief.

For myself, as I rode my bicycle far out on to the prehistoric
lakebed at midnight, looking backwards on the glittering utopia that
is Black Rock City, Burning Man seemed like the freest place on
earth. Behind me, people from all over the world were gathered in
what felt like some kind of non denominational worship. I wasn't
exactly sure what we were worshipping, but it felt significant.
Significant enough that back in the 'default' world, my first act was
to book my ticket for 2008.

· The Burning Man Project: August 25-September 1 2008-08 ( tickets
must be bought beforehand, they're not sold on the gate), burningman.com

· Getting there: British Airwaysflies to Reno via Dallas or Chicago
(with onward flights on American Airlines) from £549.20. Black Rock
is more than 100 miles north of Reno, and gives a new meaning to the
term "middle of nowhere". It takes roughly three hours by car, and
you should be prepared to share the road with livestock and wildlife.

.

Seattle's Hempfest Again Draws Multitudes in Celebration of Cannabis Culture

Seattle's Hempfest Again Draws Multitudes in Celebration of Cannabis Culture

http://stopthedrugwar.org/chronicle/548/seattle_hempfest_2008

Issue #548, 8/22/08

Last Saturday and Sunday, Seattle's Myrtle Edwards Park, a mile-long
strip of land fronting Puget Sound just north of downtown, once again
played host to the Seattle Hempfest. And once again, the Hempfest
lived up to its reputation as the world's largest marijuana "protestival."

With a core staff of around a hundred, led by the indefatigable
Vivian McPeak, and about a thousand volunteers who worked to set up
the event, keep it running smoothly, and tear it all down at the end
of the weekend, Hempfest is not only a celebration of cannabis
culture but also the living embodiment of the grassroots cooperative
activism that has flourished for years in Seattle.

From its beginnings as a small pro-hemp event 17 years ago, Hempfest
has become the coming out party for America's cannabis nation, which
in Seattle includes not only youthful stoners, wizened hippies, and
Mr. Bong Head (a guy wearing a working bong contraption on his head),
but punks, Goths, ravers, uncostumed twenty- and thirty-somethings,
families with children in strollers, and -- the biggest cannabis
celebrity in town -- travel writer Rick Steves. Steves once again
called for the US to follow the lead of Europe in relaxing marijuana laws.

Over the event's two-day span, an estimated 150,000+ people showed up
to see and be seen, listen to four stages worth of live music, peruse
the hundreds of vendors' stands for the newest technologies and best
buys on glass pipes, t-shirts, hemp items, and other pot-related
accoutrements and accessories.

And to get high in public with their comrades. Seattle police have
for years now had an accommodation with Hempfest, even more so since
the city's voters told law enforcement very clearly in 2003 that
marijuana should be the city's lowest law enforcement priority.
Police were on the scene, patrolling the park's sidewalks in pairs,
but appeared oblivious to the open pot-smoking going on all over the place.

In effect, Hempfest is not only the largest marijuana protestival in
the world, it is also a massive act of civil disobedience. Even
though Seattle has its lowest priority policy and Washington state
has decriminalized pot possession, marijuana use and possession is
still against the law. As one speaker addressed the crowd, pointing
out this fact and telling listeners that despite all the progress
they had made, they were still criminals, the crowd responded with an
enormous cheer.

The only real tension at Hempfest occurred when a small group of
sign-holding fundamentalist preachers berated the passing crowds,
telling them they were going to hell for their sins. That sparked
occasional heated discussions. At one point Saturday, Hempfest
organizers were heard threatening to send a squad of transgender
people to scare off the fanatics.

Some Hempfest attendees took a break from browsing, shopping, and
listening to music to actually listen to between-band speeches by
activists calling for further marijuana law reform. While
decriminalization and legalization were predictably common themes,
this year's Hempfest emphasized two other issues: The promotion of
hemp and the battle over Washington state's medical marijuana law,
especially the ongoing fight over what are appropriate quantities of
marijuana allowable for patients. The state is currently tangling
with patients and advocates over what constitutes a minimum 60-day
supply of their medicine. An earlier proposal called for 35 ounces of
marijuana, but Gov. Christine Gregoire sought a review of that, and
the state is now recommending a 24-ounce limit.

Besides between-band speeches, political activism also took place
throughout Hempfest at the Hemposium tent, although in an indication
of the role politics played in the larger festival, crowds in the
tent numbered in the dozens, as opposed to the tens of thousands
listening to music.

"Every single patient I know will not be in compliance with the
60-day rule. It's not going to work. It's driven by law enforcement,
not science," said Douglas Hiatt, a lawyer who represents
medical-marijuana users, as he spoke at one of the Hemposium
sessions. Hiatt was among the activists calling on patients and
supporters to come out for an August 25 action in support of higher limits.

But for most Hempfest attendees, the event was a party, a
celebration, not a political seminar. While that may be a
disappointment to activists, it is also a demonstration of the
breadth and scope of Pacific Northwest cannabis culture. It has gone
mainstream, with all the apolitical apathy abundant in the broader culture.

And if Hempfest was a little too mellow for your taste, you could
always check out Methfest, not a celebration of amphetamine culture
but a scary rock music show put on in nearby Belltown.

.

The Devolution of the Baby Boom Generation

Goodbye and Get Lost!

The Devolution of the Baby Boom Generation

http://www.counterpunch.org/miglio08222008.html

August 22, 2008
By JOHN F. MIGLIO

Some people say that I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one.
-- John Lennon

Although Albert Camus died before baby boomers took charge of the
world and placed their redoubtable imprimatur on the political scene,
he foreshadowed their eventual devolution in this prescient
statement: "Conformity is one of the nihilistic temptations of
rebellion which dominate a large part of our intellectual history. It
demonstrates how the rebel who takes to action is tempted to succumb,
if he forgets his origins, to the most absolute conformity. And so
explains the twentieth century."

Camus was right, of course. As a baby boomer, it doesn't make me
happy to say this; however, how else does one explain the "absolute
conformity" (not to mention hypocrisy) of my once-rebellious
generation? How else does one explain the disgraceful situation in
which our country now finds itself?

We can't blame Nixon any more, although it would be fun to still kick
him around. No, we have to look inward. We're the ones who created
this mess. We're the ones who abrogated our political idealism and
slowly but surely conformed to establishment power and corporate
materialism. And we're the ones who allowed George W. Bush, a baby
boomer of the worst sort, to slime his way into the presidency and
bankrupt the country both economically and morally.

No wonder young people and Europeans hate our guts. The sad truth is,
if you had told me in 1968 (40 years ago) that in 2008 the United
States would be bogged down in another unnecessary war of choice that
would kill thousands of American soldiers and hundreds of thousands
of innocent civilians, I wouldn't have believed you. In fact, I would
have said, "No, I think Americans have learned their lesson with
Vietnam and won't make that mistake again."

If you had told me 40 years ago that proportionate to inflation,
average Americans would be worse off economically than they were in
the late 1960s, I would have said, "Impossible! Every generation
since World War II is destined to do better than their parents."

If you had told me 40 years ago that Americans would eventually
embrace free market economics, become slaves to multinational
corporations, and allow the upper one per cent of the population to
own 40% of its wealth, I would have laughed and said, "I agree with
Mencken that Americans are not the brightest inhabitants on the
planet, but they're at least smart enough to know when they're being
played for saps!"

If you had told me 40 years ago that the stock market would crash in
the late 1990s, that hundreds of thousands of citizens would lose
their homes to foreclosures and that major banks would fail in 2008,
I would have said, "Not possible! We learned our lesson from the
Great Depression regarding the importance of strong government
regulations and oversight of the real estate and financial markets!"

If you had told me 40 years ago that in 2008, the price of gas would
be over $4 a gallon and that the country still wouldn't have an
energy policy based on renewable energy rather than fossil fuels, I
would have said, "Are you kidding? I just read the latest issue of
Popular Science, and by the turn of the century Americans will all be
riding in electric cars."

If you had told me 40 years ago that marijuana would still be illegal
in 2008 and that over a third of our prison population would be in
jail not because they hurt anyone but merely because they possessed
drugs, I would have said, "Nah, by the turn of the century, even the
most conservative stiffs will wake up and realize that making drugs
illegal is a huge mistake."

If you had told me 40 years ago that 47 million Americans would not
have health insurance in 2008 and that the accumulated debt on their
medical bills would be the leading cause of bankruptcy, I would have
said, "Americans are compassionate people. That could never happen."

If you had told me 40 years ago that there would be a television show
in 2008 called Jackass and that one of its "stars" would literally
jump into a cesspool at a waste treatment plant on an episode called
"pooh diving," I would have said, "That's ridiculous! No one would do
that on TV-- even for a lot of money."

If you had told me 40 years ago that the presidential elections of
2000 and 2004 would be stolen by the Republicans courtesy of the
Supreme Court and Diebold, I would have said, "Nonsense! The
Democratic Party would never stand for that!"

If you had told me 40 years ago that the 43rd President of the United
States would be this spoiled, dumb-ass, rich kid who would make
Lyndon Johnson look like a compassionate genius, a noble King Arthur,
I would have said, "No, Americans are becoming more sophisticated
after being deceived about Vietnam and will demand much more truth
and authenticity from future presidents."

I could go on, of course, but you get the idea. So maybe I was a
dreamer 40 years ago. Then again, my generation didn't exactly live
up to expectations. So what's next for baby boomers? What's next for
America? If Camus thought the 20th Century was an age of conformity,
imagine what he would say about the 21st Century!

Lucky for us, no one reads Camus anymore. After all, he was French…
and an intellectual… and a left-wing radical; everything Americans
despise and distrust. They would never have a beer (much less a glass
of wine) with someone like Camus. Americans like regular guys, like
George W. Bush and John McCain.

Perhaps Barack Obama can change this paradigm. The young seem to like
him, and so do the Europeans. And at least he's not a baby boomer.
But will he be any better?
--

John F. Miglio can be reached at: onreview@comcast.net

.

When I Covered My First Democratic Convention: Chicago 1968

When I Covered My First Democratic Convention: Chicago 1968

http://www.editorandpublisher.com/eandp/news/article_display.jsp?vnu_content_id=1003841508

By Greg Mitchell
Published: August 21, 2008

NEW YORK With the 2008 Democratic national convention about to begin
in Denver, I can't help recalling the first DNC that I covered in
1968, exactly 40 years ago next week. Yes, it was the infamous
gathering in Chicago, when the conflict turned bloody. I never made
it inside the convention hall -- but I did grab a front row seat for
what "went down," as we used to say.

It culminated in the crushing of Sen. Eugene McCarthy's anti-Vietnam
crusade inside the convention hall and the cracking of peacenik
skulls by Mayor Richard Daley's police in the streets. Together, this
doomed Hubert Humphrey to defeat in November at the hands of my old
hero, Richard Nixon.

I've been a political-campaign junkie all my life. At the age of 8, I
paraded in front of my boyhood home in Niagara Falls, N.Y., waving an
"I Like Ike" sign. Four years later, in 1960, I represented Nixon in
a 7th grade debate, and when the votes were counted, Kennedy had
carried the class by about 20-2. Traumatized, I've never publicly
endorsed a candidate since. But in 1968 I got to cover my first
presidential campaign when one of Sen. McCarthy's nephews came to
town, before the state primary, and I interviewed him for the Niagara
Falls Gazette, where I worked as a summer reporter during college.

My mentor at the Gazette was a young, irreverent City Hall reporter
named John Hanchette. He went on to an illustrious career at other
papers, and as a Pulitzer Prize-winning national correspondent for
Gannett News Service, but back then he was best known for his weekly
column. It featured a comic creation known as "Falls Street Louie,"
who had all the inside dirt on the local politicos.