Thursday, April 30, 2009

Lead the return to civil discourse

Lead the return to civil discourse

http://www.centredaily.com/living/story/1250629.html

By Charles Dumas
Apr. 26, 2009

Eight years ago, a group of Penn State students "occupied" the
HUB-Robeson Building to call attention to issues of race. It was not
the first time. In 1969, PSU students had occupied the
telecommunications building protesting the war and racial issues.

I was told by veterans of that time that the university
administration acted as if they were under siege by hostile forces.

In '64, I was part of a civil rights group in Oakland, Calif., which
was recruiting students at UC-Berkeley to protest racist hiring
policies of the local daily paper. The paper's publisher, also a
university trustee, demanded that the school shut us down. They did.
It resulted in a series of violent confrontations that ultimately led
to the Free Speech Movement.

Four years later, I was part of a theater/activist group that was
protesting Columbia University's attempt to annex parts of the Harlem
Community. Some of the black students occupied Hamilton Hall in
solidarity. Later, hundreds of white students occupied several other
buildings in sympathetic protest.

Columbia called in the New York City police. Hundreds of students
were arrested, others were beaten bloody. Prosecution had replaced
pedagogy in the name of restoring order.

There were other student protests with even more disastrous results.
The national guard opened fire on a protest at Kent State killing
four students. Other students were killed protesting at Jackson
State, in Orangeburg, S.C.

But at Penn State, in 2001, the administration and protesting
students did a strange thing in response to the situation. For nine
days they sat down and talked with each other about the problems and
their mutual concerns. Meanwhile, the students would attend classes,
take exams and write papers. At the end of the day they would return
to the HUB-Robeson Center to sleep for the night.

University President Graham Spanier and Vice Provost Terrell Jones,
negotiating for the administration, also went about their duties
preparing for graduation.

In the end, the students and administration reached an agreement.
Among the programs established: The Africana Research Center, an
increase in faculty lines in the African and African-American Studies
Department from 2.5 to 10, more courses and scholarships in AAAS.

By talking with each other, these potential adversaries had together
helped to create a new environment of civility and diversity.

Those events drew national attention. Later that spring my wife and I
went to a family centenary celebration of their ancestor's graduation
from West Point. During a question-and-answer session, the academy's
commandant was asked whether the cadets had any courses in ethical
behavior. "Yes, we talk to them about ethical conduct," he said. "But
we don't sit down and have discussions. This is West Point not Penn State."

Four months later, on Sept. 11, the world was flipped upside down by
the attacks on the World Trade Center, the Pentagon and in
Pennsylvania. We stopped talking to each other. War, torture and
terror replaced negotiation. Maybe it's time we followed the lead of
the children of the Village and start talking again.
--

Charles Dumas is an associate professor in the School of Theatre at Penn State.

.

'Quiet' Copenhagen cracks down on deadly gang war

[2 articles]

Man's jaw blown off in grenade attack

http://www.cphpost.dk/news/local/87-local/45478-mans-jaw-blown-off-in-grenade-attack.html

Friday, 24 April 2009

A number of people were injured - one seriously - when a hand
grenade was thrown at them outside a Christiania café

A young man had part of his jaw blown off in an indiscriminate attack
last night in the Christiania area of Copenhagen.

The 22-year-old and four friends were sitting at a picnic table
outside Café Nemoland when a hand grenade landed near them shortly
after midnight.

The man's face was badly injured when he was hit by shrapnel, but
his condition was described as stable last night.

Three of his companions received less severe injuries to their backs
and legs, while one escaped injury in the attack. The three have been
discharged from hospital.

Henrik Vedel from the Copenhagen Police called it an 'unscrupulous
attack, where the perpetrator had no qualms about who was hit'. Vedel
said the hand grenade had been thrown from a darkened area behind the
restaurant, but so far police have found no trace of the attacker.

No motive has yet been established for the attack and police said
none of the five people at the table were previously known to
authorities. They have appealed for witnesses to the attack to come
forward with any information.

--------

'Quiet' Copenhagen cracks down on deadly gang war

http://www.google.com/hostednews/afp/article/ALeqM5huNki6C0X-VOpxtP6gezf0rqebow

4/25/09

COPENHAGEN (AFP) ­ A grenade tossed into a cafe, gunfire in the
street, dead bodies splayed on the pavement, residents living in fear
-- all sounds out of sync with the medieval cobbled streets and
copper roofs of the Danish capital.

But a bloody gang war between bikers and youths of immigrant origin
has shattered Copenhagen's customary calm and jolted officials to
boost action against violence that has left three dead and 17 wounded
in seven months.

Two more attacks this week -- one Friday using a hand grenade --
heightened alarm, even if police would not immediately link them to gangs.

"We won't accept this settling of scores between gangs that is
frightening the population," Anders Fogh Rasmussen said earlier this
month before stepping down as prime minister to become NATO secretary general.

Officials, he vowed, would "take all necessary means to halt the
escalating violence," as Copenhagen's police chief promised to use
"Al Capone-like tactics" to go after the gangs.

The battle over drug sales, revenge and wounded honour pits Hells
Angels bikers and their offshoot called AK81 against gangs of mainly
second and third-generation immigrant youths.

The long-simmering conflict exploded into full-blown war last August,
after a 19-year-old man of Turkish origin named Osam Nuri Dogan, who
was armed and wearing a bullet-proof vest, was executed on the street.

His body was riddled with 25 bullets in front of a Copenhagen pizza parlour.

A member of AK81 suspected of the killing was arrested but quickly
released for lack of evidence.

Since then, violent acts of retaliation have become almost a daily
occurrence in the capital -- and raised concern of fueling
anti-immigrant sentiment in a country long skeptical of Muslims where
tightening immigration has been the cornerstone of government policy.

Early Friday, an unknown assailant launched a grenade at a packed
cafe patronized by bikers in Christiania, Copenhagen's giant squat
and repair of free spirits and marginals since the 1970s. Four were
wounded, including a 22-year-old man whose cheek was ripped out by
the blast. "It was an odious attack... and a miracle that no one was
killed," a city deputy police commissioner, Boris Jensen, told AFP.

It came a week after another attack in Christiania in which an AK81
member shot and seriously wounded a 30-year-old man in the stomach.
Tabloids said it was gangs settling scores but police, again, would
not confirm this.

The majority of attacks -- including one Wednesday in which police
said "two men on a motorcycle" shot and wounded a 29-year-old man of
Egyptian-Eritrean descent -- have occurred in the heavily immigrant
Noerrebro neighborhood.

The sound of gunfire there has become all too common but residents
were shocked out of complacency two months ago when three separate
shootings in as many days killed two people with no links to gangs
and wounded four others.

Protesters dressed in mourning as for a funeral have repeatedly
marched through the capital demanding a "gun-free zone" in Noerrebro
so people can take a walk "without worrying about being killed by a
stray bullet".

Rasmussen personally visited a Noerrebro school in early April to try
to calm nerves. "You shouldn't have to have a knot of fear in your
stomach when you go outside," he told a worried 16-year-old.

Police have dramatically increased their presence in trouble zones.

Parliament, meanwhile, has scheduled a major hearing on the gang war
on April 29 and the justice ministry is preparing a draft law to
bolster legal action.

The bill, which parliament is expected to approve before summer
recess, will "lead to a doubling of penalties for certain types of
serious crimes committed in connection with the retaliatory attacks
between gangs," said Justice Minister Brian Mikkelsen.

It would also dramatically increase jail time for possession of
illegal weapons and give police more leeway in tapping phones and
holding suspects in custody.

"We will give them no peace," Copenhagen chief police inspector Per
Larsen told AFP, saying more than 200 illegal weapons had been seized
from gang members in recent months. "We're going to be after them,
put pressure on them, use Al Capone-like tactics and cooperate with
the tax authorities to stop their illegal sources of financing, which
have been keeping this war going," he said.

The attacks have raised the spectre of a repeat of a gang war that
raged in the 1990s, which left 11 people dead.

"The gangs have recruited a lot in recent months," said Copenhagen
police chief Jens Henrik Hoejbjerg.

He said nearly 80 different groups of bikers and immigrant-origin
youths, or a total of 944 people, have been under police
surveillance, though he said the city's true number of gang members
-- most of them bikers -- was probably closer to 1,500.

Already in 2008, at least 76 of the 167 shootings registered in
Denmark, mainly in Copenhagen, were directly linked to gangs. A year
earlier, the Scandinavian country had only 28 shootings, under half
of which were attributed to gangs.

Some fear the gang violence could fan racial hostility, as a March 11
YouGov Zapera poll showed that 74 percent of Danes felt "immigrants"
were primarily responsible for the gang wars.

"This is no longer just a conflict about money and power but ...
between those who feel profound hatred towards 'immigrants' and those
who feel the same way towards 'racists'," Michael Hviid Jacobsen, a
criminologist at the University of Aalborg, told AFP.

And this "explains the ease with which the two sides have been
recruiting," he said.

Jacobsen partly blames politicians and the media, saying they tend to
use the term "immigrant" for anti-biker gang members even though most
are Danish-born from families who immigrated two or three generations ago.

Others point the finger at police.

"The police only focus on the darkies as if we were responsible for
everything," Hassan, a Noerrebro teenager who refused to give his
last name, told AFP.

Police roundly reject the accusation.

"It's absurd. We don't discriminate," said chief police inspector
Larsen. "We are also putting pressure on the bikers, searching them too.

"Our goal is to end this war, that's all," he said.

.

A Historical Perspective on the Question: Am I a Feminist?

A Historical Perspective on the Question: Am I a Feminist?

http://www.feministing.com/archives/014969.html

April 22, 2009

Check out this interesting guest post by artist and yogini Maya
Breuer on her own history as it relates to feminism through the
generations, a topic we will continue to explore leading up to the
conference this fall at the Omega Institute. We will be publishing a
series of guest posts as a fun way of initiating some of the
speakers--who are generally new to blogging--into our exciting online
community. Please make them feel welcome.
--

Back in the 60's I did not fit the typical description of a feminist.
When Gloria Steinem, Bella Abzug and Betty Friedan founded the
Women's Political Caucus, I was enmeshed in the politics of economic
inequality. I attended the '72 Democratic National Convention, as a
representative from the National Welfare Rights Organization,
protesting cutbacks in federal assistance to poor families.

Following that convention, I did community action work in equal
employment and affirmative action. I was also a young black mother
attempting to find my voice, which was becoming tinged with overtones
from inspiring women like Angela Davis and Sonya Sanchez.

I was also in an abusive marriage. After one particular beating from
my husband, I went to the local police station seeking protection. I
registered my complaint. The officer asked, "Isn't he that news
reporter from Channel __?" "Yes, I replied, he is."

He then asked me to have a seat. When he returned he said, "Mrs.___,
we'll take you home, and have a conversation with him. Then he added,
"He's a good guy, we'll talk with him."

The police escorted me home, spoke with my husband, but nothing
happened. I was struck with the reality that there was no protection
for me or my children. True, I was a black woman, but now I felt the
need to align myself with other women, and to figure out how I fit in
to the feminist movement. Was there a place for black women in the
feminist movement? If I joined would it somehow diminish my
commitment to racial equality?

I joined a consciousness raising group. We met regularly, we laughed,
we talked, we cried, we pondered and discussed events of the day in
the feminist and the civil rights movements. We talked about how
restrictive marriage could be, that women had no personal
reproductive rights, the need for legal protection and safe haven for
women being abused, and sitting on the floor we even looked at our
own vaginas with speculum-like mirrors.

I read The Feminine Mystique, lauded Shirley Chisholm's run for the
Presidency and celebrated the landmark Roe v. Wade decision, all the
while trying to figure out where I stood. Was I a feminist?

Since the 90's my work as a yoga instructor and director of the yoga
retreat for women of color has led me to recognize the value in an
evolving and growing feminist perspective. I have worked primarily
with women of all ethnicities, socio economic backgrounds and
generations. Our intergenerational dialogues have encouraged many to
find their own voice and vision for personal growth. The need to be
part of a collective feminist consciousness is as essential today as ever.

This September, women of all colors and generations are coming
together at Omega for the Women and Power Conference to dialogue
about feminism, health, art, body, mind and spirit. I look forward to
sharing my voice and experiencing the collective voices and wisdoms
of others. Perhaps our intergenerational dialogues at Omega will
begin an evolution into the next wave of global woman spirit and the
feminist movement.
--

Maya Breuer, RYT, is a yogini and jazz and visual artist who began
her study of yoga at the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health. In 1994,
she traveled to India to study the traditional and time-honored
aspects of yoga with Shri Rajarshi Muni.

A senior Kripalu Yoga teacher, Maya has strived to bring the healing
benefits and knowledge of the dharma of yoga and a holistic lifestyle
to minority communities. She believes sincerely in soul, spirit,
growth, and personal transformation through yoga and daily holistic practices.

Maya is the founder and director of the Santosha School of Yoga,
which offers certifications for beginner and advanced curriculums,
and creator of the national Yoga Retreat for Women of Color offered
throughout the United States. In her lectures and workshops, she
combines the classical and ancient traditions of yoga with her
soulful life experience to fashion a feminine and sacred approach to
teaching this ancient practice.

An active member of the International Association of Black Yoga
Teachers and Kripalu Yoga Teacher's Association, Maya is an affiliate
instructor for the American Yoga College and a member of the Kripalu
Center Board of Trustees. She is also one of the featured authors in
Stephen Cope's Will Yoga and Meditation Really Change My Life? and
recipient of the Trailblazer Award from the International Association
of Black Yoga Teachers, 2006.

Raised in the Jewish faith, Maya feels a deep alignment with Tikkun
Olam, the work to repair the world. She is currently at work on her
first book, Soul Yoga, about how women of color can blend ancestral
traditions and Eastern practices to create a healing spiritual life.

.

Civil Rights pioneer has Valley roots

Civil Rights pioneer has Valley roots

http://www.rrdailyherald.com/articles/2009/04/22/news/doc49ef7d4380f81297968885.txt

by Todd Wetherington, Daily Herald Staff Writer
April 22, 2009

LITTLETON ­ Rosa Parks. Martin Luther King Jr. Malcolm X. These names
are familiar to anyone old enough to pick up a history book and read
about the U.S. Civil Rights Movement and the profound change it
brought to America. One name that may not immediately spring to mind
is Ella Baker. While Baker's most lasting work would be accomplished
in cities from New York to Atlanta, the seeds of her beliefs sprang
from the fertile soil of a small town in Halifax County.

Born on Dec. 13, 1903, in Norfolk, Va., Baker's family moved to her
mother's hometown of Littleton when she was nine. As a young girl,
Baker developed a sense for the historical scope of social injustice
from her grandmother, a former slave who would often tell Baker about
the time she was whipped for refusing to marry a man chosen for her
by her owner.

Following high school, Baker attended Shaw University in Raleigh,
where she gained the reputation as a rebel by challenging school
policies she believed to be unfair.

After graduating from Shaw as class valedictorian in 1927, she moved
to New York, where she took a job as an editorial staff manager at
the Negro National News. Baker went on to join the Young Negro's
Cooperative League, which sought to develop black economic power
through collective planning. In 1931 she became the group's national director.

During that same year, Baker would use her increasing influence to
support the campaign to free the "Scottsboro Boys," nine young black
men from Alabama falsely accused of raping a white woman. The case
was one of the most inflammatory of its era.

Realizing the Scottsboro case was simply one manifestation of the
oppression and racial hostility prevalent at the time, Baker pressed
on. Concerning her work she stated, "In order for us as poor and
oppressed people to become a part of a society that is meaningful,
the system under which we now exist has to be radically changed."

In 1940 she took a job as field secretary with the NAACP, where she
would serve as director of branches from 1943 to 1946. Inspired by
the historic bus boycott in Montgomery, Ala, in 1955, Baker
co-founded In Friendship, an organization to raise money to fight
against Jim Crow Laws in the deep South.

Baker's work with the NAACP would eventually take her to Atlanta,
where she would help organize Martin Luther King's group, the
Southern Christian Leadership Conference. During this time she also
ran a voter registration campaign called Crusade for Citizenship.

Baker worked closely with southern civil rights activists in Georgia,
Alabama and Mississippi and was highly respected for her organizing
skills. She remained in Atlanta until 1960, acting as interim
executive director of the SCLC.

Later that year, on the heels of regional desegregation sit-ins led
by black college students, Baker took part in the Southwide Youth
Leadership Conference at Shaw University, a meeting that would lead
to the formation of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee,
one of the most active civil rights organizations in the country.
With Baker's help the SNCC organized the freedom rides of 1961 and
began working closely with black sharecroppers throughout the South.
Around this time she was quoted as saying, "Until the killing of
black men, black mothers' sons, becomes as important to the rest of
the country as the killing of a white mothers' son, we who believe in
freedom cannot rest."

Though Baker worked closely with various organizations, she was often
critical of their leadership. She was quoted as saying that "strong
people don't need strong leaders" and fought for the idea of
"participatory democracy," which argued for the minimization of
hierarchy. Baker stated that people "under the heel" or those most
oppressed, should be the ones to decide what action they would take
to improve their lives.

During her years at the forefront of the civil rights movement, Baker
acted as a mentor to such important figures as Stokely Carmichael,
Julian Bond and Bernice Johnson Reagon, who wrote "Ella's Song" in
her honor. Students for a Democratic Society, the major anti-war
group of the 1960's, was highly influenced by Baker's idea of
participatory democracy. Through SDS and other organizations her
philosophy would go on to influence a wide range of radical and
progressive groups that would form in the following decade.

In the years to come Baker would return to New York, where she would
continue to lend her time and talent to a number of civil rights
causes, speaking out in support of jailed professor Angela Davis and
joining in the protest against apartheid in South Africa. Said Baker:
"Remember, we are not fighting for the freedom of the Negro alone,
but for the freedom of the human spirit, a larger freedom that
encompasses all mankind."

Baker would continue her activism until her death in New York City on
December 13, 1986, her 83rd birthday. Her influence is reflected in
the nickname she acquired: "Fundi" a Swahili word meaning a person
who teaches a craft to the next generation.

"The major job was getting people to understand that they had
something within their power that they could use," Baker once said,
"and it could only be used if they understood what was happening and
how group action could counter violence."

Gary Grant, executive director of Concerned Citizens of Tillery,
spoke about the importance of Baker's example to the young men and
women taking part in the civil right's movement of the era. "She was
a major player for many young people," said Grant, who marched with
Martin Luther King Jr. in 1962. "Around the time of the sit-ins in
Greensboro is when we first heard her name. I have to say she was
inspiring, a teacher of non-violence who showed us how to fight for
true justice and freedom."

Baker's legacy lives on through the work of countless civil rights
groups and protesters across the globe. Her words live on in "Ella's
Song" whose lyrics quote the former resident of that small, Roanoke
Valley town: "We who believe in freedom cannot rest."

.

Event Will Mark Era of “Lumumba-Zapata College” Activism

April 24 Event Will Mark Era of "Lumumba-Zapata College"Activism

http://www.laprensa-sandiego.org/current/Zapata.042409.htm

April 24, 2009

A 40-year commemoration of the days when student activists attempted
to name the new third college on the University of California, San
Diego campus as "Lumumba-Zapata College" will be held at 6 p.m. April
24 in the Cross-Cultural Center. The event is free and open to the public.

A number of emerti faculty members and students, all key players in
the 1969 event, are expected to participate in the commemoration,
planned as a component of UC San Diego's month-long celebration of
labor leader and human rights champion Cesar Chavez's life and achievements.

"Although Lumumba-Zapata College was never created­becoming Third and
eventually Thurgood Marshall College­the episode stands as a key
chapter both in the history of UC San Diego and the history of
educational reform," noted Jorge Mariscal, professor of literature
and chair of the Cesar E. Chavez Recognition Planning Committee. "The
Lumumba-Zapata student demands foresaw many of the most pressing
educational issues affecting communities of color that are still
unresolved today."

Among attendees at the commemoration will be former UC San Diego
professor Arturo Madrid, who taught in Third College. Madrid went on
to become founding president of the Tomas Rivera Center, the nation's
first institute for policy studies on Latino issues, and director of
the Ford Foundation's Graduate Fellowships Program. He is currently
Norine R. and T. Frank Mur-chison Distinguished Professor of the
Humanities at Trinity University in San Antonio, Tex.

Among emeriti UC San Diego professors expected to attend are Carlos
Blanco and Joe Watson, while Roberta Alexander, San Diego City
College professor; Ed Spriggs, UC San Diego associate vice chancellor
and attorney Maria Blanco, Boalt Hall, UC Berkeley, will be among
former student activists and original Third College staff attending.

Brief comments will be made by current UC San Diego students
representing the Black Student Union, MEChA and the Student
Affirmative Action Committee (SAAC).

As noted in Mariscal's 2005 book, Brown-Eyed Children of the Sun, "In
March of 1969 student activists from the newly-formed Mexican
American Youth Association/Black Student Council coalition would dive
directly into the struggle over higher education by intervening in
the UCSD administration's plans for a new third college. Planning for
the college was well underway, but when provost-designate Armin
Rappaport asked students for input on possible ethnic studies
courses, the BSC/MAYA activists developed an elaborate program that
eventually derailed all earlier plans. A key demand was that the
college be named after Congolese revolutionary Patrice Lumumba and
Mexican revolutionary Emiliano Zapata. The objective of the new
college would be, as philosophy graduate student Angela Davis put it,
'to provide Black and Brown students the knowledge and skills we
needed in order to more effectively wage our liberation struggles.'
The coalition's demands were presented to Chancellor William McGill
on March 14, 1969 as the Lumumba-Zapata College, BSC -MAYA Demands
for the Third College, UCSD."

.

Folk icon Paxton in tune with the times

Folk icon Paxton in tune with the times

http://www.montrealgazette.com/Entertainment/Folk+icon+Paxton+lives/1519957/story.html

By Bernard Perusse, The Gazette
April 21, 2009

Tom Paxton uses an application on his iPhone to store song ideas when
he's on the road. He's also preparing to perform the song John Henry
with Tom Morello of the alternative-metal rock band Rage Against the
Machine at Pete Seeger's 90th birthday concert at Madison Square Garden.

Paxton, who will be here at Concordia's Oscar Peterson Hall Sunday
night, is fully living in the present, but some of his best-known
songs have been part of folk music's DNA for so long you have to keep
reminding yourself they're not traditional.

Some people are convinced songs like Ramblin' Boy and I Can't Help
But Wonder Where I'm Bound have been around forever. In fact, when
Paxton's daughter Kate was in her first year of college at St.
Andrew's in Scotland, she went with some friends to a pub, where a
local folkie was playing The Last Thing On My Mind. After the set,
she thanked him for playing her father's song ­ only to be told by
the young musician that it was a traditional Scottish folk song he
had learned from his own father. Kate pressed the point.

Paxton picked up the story during a telephone interview last week.
"(The singer) thought for the longest time and said `Well, your
father might have written it.' I decided to go with `I might have
written it,'" he said, laughing.

No trace of resentment is audible in his voice. If anything, he seems
to love the story. "It was always a dream of mine to have songs go
into the tradition and have people love the songs and wonder who
wrote them," he said.

That same sense of wonder is what started Paxton on a musical career
that has been going for almost 50 years ­ and counting ­ landing him
a Lifetime Achievement Grammy award in February. And the record that
was his first guide was The Weavers at Carnegie Hall, a seminal 1957
live recording by the folk group that included Seeger.

"By the end of Side B, I had undergone a chromosomal change, from
someone who loved this music to someone who simply had to do it,"
Paxton said. "The scope (of the album) was unbelievable."

Seeger's early support of Paxton's work, notably his recording of
Ramblin' Boy, also with the Weavers, had a dramatic effect on the
fledgling writer. "It was validation," Paxton said. "It meant I
wasn't kidding myself, that I actually did have something to
contribute. And that there was room for me at the table."

While many of Paxton's albums are filled with songs directly inspired
from the headlines, the protest movement and its politically-charged
anthems started making space for more personal visions by the
mid-60s. Around that time, Paxton had a highly symbolic moment with a
friend from the folk scene who had begun to march to his own drummer
and had a new song to reinforce the point. It happened at the Kettle
of Fish bar in Greenwich Village.

"We had a table right up by the door, where we tended to hang out
between sets," Paxton said. "On a given night, Dave Van Ronk would be
there, Phil Ochs, Eric Andersen, Patrick Sky, David Blue ­ a lot of
bulls---, a lot of kidding, a lot of argument.

"One night, an argument was going on between Van Ronk and Ochs across
the table. Bob Dylan was sitting next to me. He leaned over and said
`Listen, I want you to hear this,' and he sang Gates of Eden into my
ear," Paxton said. "He sang in a whisper, as if he were telling me a secret."

The secret would be out before long, and the Beatles-led electric
generation would be spreading the news. The Byrds amplified Dylan
songs, while Paxton's Bottle of Wine was given a stomping backbeat by
the Fireballs and his Mr. Blue was psychedelicized by Clear Light.
Paxton said he loved both interpretations.

The civil rights movement that largely defined that era has never
been more dramatically manifested than in Barack Obama's election to
the U.S. presidency, Paxton acknowledged. But while he emphatically
insisted that no one's mind gets changed by a song, he conceded that
the music his generation of writers put out there played a long-term
part in reinforcing peoples' growing convictions.

"I think these songs helped put a voice to a theme that was running
through a generation," he said. "You can't imagine the movement
having succeeded without the songs, without We Shall Overcome. It was
part of what moved the boulder."

Paxton occasionally rewrites some of his old topical songs to fit the
times: I'm Changing My Name to Chrysler, about the 1979 U.S.
government loans to the auto giant, for example, is now I'm Changing
My Name to Fannie Mae. Lyndon Johnson Told the Nation was also later
modified to fit George W. Bush.

Finding ideas in the newspapers is an exercise Paxton said he assigns
to participants in his songwriting seminars, his most recent sessions
given a few years ago at Warren Wilson College in North Carolina.

"I tell them 'Find something (in the news) that moves you to any
emotion whatsoever ­ anger, fear, loathing, hilarity ­ and write a
song from the point of view of a participant or an eyewitness. It
gets you out of writing about your boring lives. Write about the
world as a participant; make it immediate.'

"That's how I approach topical songwriting." he said. "I like to
write in the first person ­ even if it's seldom me."
--

Tom Paxton performs Sunday night at 8 at Concordia University's Oscar
Peterson Concert Hall, 7141 Sherbrooke St. W. Tickets cost $40 to
$57. Phone 514-790-1245 or go to www.admission.com. For further
information, phone 514-524-9225.
--

bperusse@thegazette.canwest.com

.

Smothers Brothers stand tall with wit and talent undiminished

Smothers Brothers stand tall with wit and talent undiminished

http://www.buffalonews.com/entertainment/story/651936.html

04/26/09
By Anne Neville
NEWS STAFF REVIEWER

If you have never seen the Smothers Brothers, it's possible to
pigeonhole them as kind of a one-trick-pony comedy act in which one
brother plays a dumb guy who makes stuff up and the other plays a
superior straight man.

A lot of their act does rely on this foundation, but it was apparent
from the minute the brothers hit the stage at Kleinhans Music Hall
Saturday night that their 50-some years of playing off each other has
allowed Tom and Dick Smothers to hone their interactions to perfect
comebacks delivered with superb comedic timing.

Looking trim, dapper, and just the slightest bit older than they were
when CBS first harassed and censored, then fired them from their
cutting-edge comedy hour back in 1969, the brothers took the stage
with a song, to the tune of "Those Were the Days," a 1968 hit:

"Once upon a time we were on TV/Every Sunday night we knocked them
dead/We got into some trouble, so they fired us/I guess it was
something that we said!"

Although there was a sprinkling of young people in the audience, for
the vast majority of those in the almost-full house, both the song
and the story were familiar, and people clapped along.

The brothers are strong musically, Dick's clear tenor shining and Tom
displaying top-notch guitar skills as he tackles genres from folk and
classical to a fast-fingered flamenco.

The pair expressed their delight at playing in Buffalo again, with
our great philharmonic. Tom explained the difference between a
philharmonic orchestra and a symphony orchestra: A symphony
orchestra, he said, "plays mostly in the key of C," while a
philharmonic "plays in any key it wants, and they're paid a lot
less." The quip drew knowing laughter from the crowd.

Tom then began a story, starting off with the fact that he is a pilot
­ as is, he claimed, BPO Conductor Paul Ferington ­ and the brothers
had flown into Syracuse, where they rented a Cessna and Tom flew his
brother around the area, up the Niagara River, over the falls, a
beautiful trip to take in October, when the leaves are turning
colors. "Tom, this is not true!" Dick said, to which Tom replied,
with a crafty smile, "A lot of it is true!"

Tom's reasons for claiming to be a pilot ranged from, "When I walked
on stage I could not recall not being a pilot" to "I used to work
with Bernie Madoff!"

Even Dick got in a zinger: "You are a frequent flier. But no matter
how many miles you accumulate, they never upgrade you to pilot!"

The brothers started off a medley of folk songs about towns in Texas,
"Quando Caliente el Sol," Gilbert and Sullivan's "Poor Wandering
One," each dissolving into comedy,

confusion and chaos, or, in one case, into yodeling and Tom playing
the "dueling banjos" song from "Deliverance."

A segment in which a silent Tom did yo-yo tricks, wearing a plaid
shirt and wide yellow suspenders, was mildly amusing, but fell short
of the brothers' verbal interactions. They recovered their momentum
with a series of photos and videos of their past, ranging from their
baby pictures to clips from their Comedy Hour, including songs by The
Doors, The Who, Kenny Rogers and the brothers themselves singing Phil
Ochs' controversial "Draft Dodger Rag."

Paul Ferington, who conducted the BPO through the first half of the
concert, selected music that referred to the tumultuous times of the
late 1960s and early 1970s, including selections from "Hair," "West
Side Story," "Jesus Christ Superstar" and the Beatles' "Yesterday,"
all evocative and magnificently performed.

"Age of Aquarius" and "Let the Sunshine In," the medley from "Hair,"
was particularly moving when delivered by the majestic orchestra.
Opening with a sweet and simple string note, it grew in power with
additions of many musical voices, with layered percussion and
tambourine contributions particularly appealing. The "West Side
Story" overture and triumphant final piece from "Jesus Christ
Superstar" filled the house with melodies that were familiar and
sound that was intensified into a higher sphere.

Concert Review
Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra with the Smothers Brothers
Saturday night in Kleinhans Music Hall.
--

aneville@buffnews.com

.

In Conversation with Peter Fonda

In Conversation with Peter Fonda

http://www.channelnewsasia.com/stories/entertainmentfeatures/view/424565/1/.html

By Genevieve Loh
24 April 2009

SINGAPORE: Who is Peter Fonda? Is he the least famous member of the
revered Fonda acting dynasty? Or the outspoken, brash and long-haired
nonconformist who got arrested in the 1966 anti-war Sunset Strip riot
which was forcefully ended by the Los Angeles Police?

Or perhaps he's the unconventional Hollywood leading man who uttered
the words "I know what it's like to be dead" while partying with The
Beatles back in 1965, thus inspiring their song She Said She Said,
which appeared in their 1966 album Revolver?

Peter Fonda ­ icon of '60s western counter-culture,
writer-producer-actor of cinematic masterpiece Easy Rider, son of
legendary actor Henry, brother of Jane and father of Bridget ­ is all
of that and more. A lot more.

In town this weekend to present the Best Film award (Singapore Film
Category) at the 22nd Singapore International Film Festival Silver
Screen Awards tonight and for a public question-and-answer session
Saturday at LASALLE, the 69-year-old nature- and music-lover was
happy to tell animated stories about... Well, just about everything.

Chatting with Fonda over iced tea at the Amara Sanctuary Resort
Sentosa, we learnt how the two-time Oscar nominee never suffers from
jetlag when he's in our neck of the woods because of the pull of
being so close to the equator.

And that this is actually his second visit to our "beautiful island"
because "back in 1982, the plane made an unscheduled landing and I
spent eight hours in your airport but they wouldn't let us come into town".

One topic Fonda was quite happy to stay on, however, was Easy Rider.
He recounted how he and Dennis Hopper (who co-starred, co-wrote and
directed the film) initially didn't really want Jack Nicholson in the
movie but eventually changed their minds.

"We already had the audience who believed in our (counter) culture
and I knew he'd bring in the fringe audience. And he did."

It's been 40 years since Fonda, Hopper and Nicholson kick-started a
mini pop-cultural revolution astride a Harley Davidson with that
film. Does the man, who was last seen beside Russell Crowe and
Christian Bale in 3:10 to Yuma, ever get tired of talking about the movie?

"It used to annoy me that people kept asking me to talk about Easy
Rider. And then I realised I shouldn't be annoyed. I should be
gracious to know that there are so many people from so many walks of
life, of different cultures and different countries to whom the movie
touched. And that makes me very happy."
--

In Conversation with Peter Fonda will be held at LASALLE College Of
The Arts, Singapore Airlines Theatre (Basement 1), 1 McNally Street
on Sat (April 25) at 2pm. Tickets at S$9.50 (not inclusiveof Sistic
fee) from Sistic.

.

High on the '60s? This show'll bring you down

High on the '60s? This show'll bring you down

http://www.philly.com/philly/entertainment/20090424_CasiNotes__High_on_the__60s__This_show_ll_bring_you_down.html

By Chuck Darrow
4/24/09

TROPICANA CASINO and Resort is to be commended for being the only
Atlantic City casino that programs traditional production shows on a
year-round basis. But that doesn't mean that the Trop gets a pass for
its latest effort, "Celebration of the '60s."

The revusical's problems begin with its title, which, while
chronologically accurate, is somewhat misleading. Sure, all of its
material was originally recorded between 1960 and '69. But when most
people think of what we now consider "the '60s," what is conjured up
is that world-changing stretch of the latter half of the decade when
popular culture was molded by the "sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll"
ethos of the counterculture.

However, "Celebration of the '60s" barely tips its bell-bottoms to
that era. Instead, the bulk of the 70-minute program, running through
June 6, pays tribute to the far more musically and culturally
innocent early '60s, when "American Bandstand" set the pop music agenda.

As a result, the likes of Bob Dylan, the Beatles, Jefferson Airplane,
the Doors, Jimi Hendrix and other generational titans are ignored in
favor of harmless (if phenomenally popular) artists like Neil Sedaka,
Connie Francis and the Four Seasons (true, "Twist and Shout," a
Beatles' signature, is included, but it was not written or recorded
first by them). And the show's two nods to real rock music, The Who's
"Pinball Wizard" and "Honky Tonk Woman" by the Rolling Stones, seem
totally out of place.

Even the poppier chart-toppers of the late-'60s (e.g. the Monkees,
the Association and such Motown legends as the Supremes, Four Tops
and Smokey Robinson) are ignored in favor of older artists.

Making matters worse is that "Celebration of the '60s" has no use for
anything resembling logic. There is neither narration nor video to
put the music into any kind of context, and the set list follows no
logical chronological or thematic threads.

Songs are performed willy-nilly; for example, "Crazy," the 1960
country ballad by Patsy Cline, is sandwiched by the Beach Boys' 1964
hit "Fun, Fun, Fun" and "Pinball Wizard," which was released in '69.

And there are more specific problems as well. For instance, there's
what has to be the most soulless version ever of Sam & Dave's "Soul
Man," and the out-of-place, Temptations-style choreography during the
Four Seasons sequence (uh, guys, the Seasons played their own
instruments and thus didn't dance).

Most glaring, however, is the rendition of Little Eva's 1962 smash,
"The Locomotion," which is reimagined as a smoky, cabaret jazz
number. It's safe to say that with this abomination, the year's
showbiz nadir has been reached in Atlantic City.

But there are some bright spots. The brief salute to the
groundbreaking Broadway musical "Hair" not only hits the right
musical notes, but it also gives the 16-member cast of singers and
dancers a showcase for their individual and collective talents. (And
suggests that "Hair" would be a perfect gaming-hall presentation.)

And, throughout, director-choreographer Alan Harding's dance schemes
nicely animate things.

Despite the show's many shortcomings, it's only fair to note that the
audience at a recent performance was nothing if not enthusiastic and
generous with its responses. But if you're at the Trop and have a
hankering for some musical nostalgia, you'll do much better by
checking out "Yesterday - A Tribute to the Beatles," in the Liverpool
Club, rather than "A Celebration of the '60s" in the big room.

Tropicana, Boardwalk at Brighton Avenue, 9 tomorrow, 7 p.m. Sunday, 8
p.m. Monday, 3:30 and 8 p.m. Tuesday-Wednesday, $25, 800-736-1420,
www.ticketmaster.com.

...
--

Chuck Darrow has covered Atlantic City and the casino industry for
more than 20 years. Read his blog at http://go.philly.com/casinotes.
E-mail him at darrowc@phillynews.com.

.

Books Set in the 1960s

Books Set in the 1960s

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB124053850839051261.html?mod=googlenews_wsj

APRIL 24, 2009

My book group has read World War II novels; most of our members
remember this period. Two of us, however, came of age during the
'60s, and wonder if you know good books set in this period of
Haight-Ashbury, hippies, the peace movement?
­M.W., California

"California"? Could M.W., now a reputable citizen, be hiding from his
or her book club a secret past as a hippie?

Today, it's hard to believe how controversial hippies were in the
1960s. Psychological studies concluded they were the product of
tyrannical mothers and wussy fathers. A newspaper editorial
criticized a hippie commune in Pennsylvania for its poor sanitation:
"One hippie explained why a dog running through his food didn't
bother him -- 'Its paws only touched dirt, and dirt is part of God.'"

No one describes the earnest lunacy of the career hippie better than
T.C. Boyle in "Drop City." The novel starts in 1970, in a California
commune that's run on the LATWIDNO principle -- Land Access to Which
Is Denied No One. In other words, anyone with a yurt could tune in,
turn on, drop out. It won't surprise those who live with other people
that some characters start squabbling about such things as how many
eggs one slacker, probably suffering from munchies, snagged at a
supposedly communal breakfast. Much drama follows, and some of the
hippies decamp to Alaska, where they try to live off the land. Of
course they can't. But Mr. Boyle give these social outliers a fair
shot -- their idealism, their self-righteousness, their bull.

Other evocative novels about hippies are "His Illegal Self" by Peter
Carey (mostly set in a commune in the Australian outback) and "The
Darling" by Russell Banks (a member of the Weather Underground,
wanted by the F.B.I., flees to Africa).

I've always been fascinated by the subject of disappearing, as some
violent political activists did in the early '70s. Christopher
Sorrentino's "Trance" follows the remnants of the Symbionese
Liberation Army after half its members died in a police shootout. To
call them clowns -- deadly ones -- would not overstate their
ineptitude at flying under the radar. In "Eat the Document" by Dana
Spiotta, political bombers change their identities and live for
decades in a state of high-alert paranoia.

By the way, according to "The Hippie Dictionary," hippies didn't call
themselves hippies: "Most often we called ourselves 'freaks' or
'heads.' Not until later did we call ourselves hippies, and by then
we were 'aging hippies.'"
--

Send your questions about books and reading to Cynthia Crossen at
booklover@wsj.com.

.

Tommy James reflects on life with Roulette

Shondells' Tommy James reflects on life with Roulette

http://www.dailygazette.com/news/2009/apr/23/0423_james/

Thursday, April 23, 2009
By Brian McElhiney
Gazette Reporter

In 1966, a young Michigan singer and guitarist named Tommy James
signed a record deal with Roulette Records in New York City.

For the next four years, James and his band The Shondells racked up
two No. 1 hits, "Hanky Panky" and "Crimson and Clover," and numerous
other top 10 tracks on the label. The group's shiny pop sound and
hooky melodies ran counter to the more serious-minded psychedelic
trends of the time, earning them little respect from critics but
massive sales from audiences. After The Shondells called it quits in
1970, James continued with Roulette until 1974, scoring yet another
top 10 hit with 1971's "Dragging the Line."

But underneath the sunny exterior of the band's catchy pop songs and
fairy tale fame-and-fortune story lies a dark secret that James has
kept silent about over the years. It wasn't until 2005 that James was
able to safely reveal what he says the label truly was: a front for
the Genovese crime family.

"[Roulette] was basically used as everything from an illegal bank
account, running illegal stuff through there, to a social club where
all these guys would hang out," James said during a recent phone
interview from his home in New Jersey, just outside New York City.
"So I really didn't feel safe talking about all this until they
passed away, and the last one to pass away was Vinnie 'The Chin'
Gigante, who was the head of the family."

His time on Roulette makes up the majority of James' autobiography,
"Me, the Mob and Music," due out on Simon & Schuster toward the end
of the year. Plans are already under way to have famed director
Martin Scorcese direct a film version of the book next year.

In the meantime, James continues to play dates with his current
touring band under the Shondells monicker ­ the group will headline
Proctors' " '60s Spectacular" show on Saturday at 7:30 p.m. The
lineup also includes The Association, The New Rascals (one of two
present day incarnations of 1960s group The Rascals) and The
Happenings, all groups that James has had some sort of connection
with in the past.

"Some of these acts on the show I haven't worked with in ages, so
it's really great to see some of these guys," James said. "I've known
The Happenings since back in the '60s, but I haven't had the chance,
really, to work with them in 20, 30 years. Everybody on the show has
been a friend of mine for a long time."

James, who used to own a farm in Rensselaer County, is looking
forward to returning to the upstate region as well. "I love it up
there," he said.

He's also been busy on the recording front ­ last year he released
the holiday album "I Love Christmas" as well as the retrospective "40
Years," featuring all of his A-sides from The Shondells and his solo
career up through 2006. "I Love Christmas" holds some significance to
longtime followers of James, with the single "It's Christmas Again"
featuring the surviving members of the original Shondells: Mike Vale,
Eddie Gray and Ron Rosman (original drummer Peter Lucia died more
than 20 years ago).

That song, co-written by James and Vale, has sparked plans for a
full-blown reunion album, which the band will record later in the year.

"We had such fun being back in the studio together that we decided to
do an album," James said. "It's a great time for us all to be
together, with the release of the book and movie. We'll do a lot of
TV and publicity for the movie, so it's a really wonderful time for
the original band and I to be back together again."

Landing on Roulette

James, born in 1947 in Dayton, Ohio, relocated to Niles, Mich., with
his family in 1958. One year later, at the age of 12, James was in
his first band, Tom and the Tornadoes, which eventually became The Shondells.

In 1964, local label Snap Records originally released "Hanky Panky"
to regional success, but the single was quickly forgotten. Two years
later a Pittsburgh nightclub began playing the track, and the success
of the bootlegged single led James to put together a new version of
The Shondells, from Pittsburgh group The Raconteurs (this lineup is
the one that will be reuniting later this year).

James went shopping for a record deal in New York City, drawing
interest from major labels such as CBS and Atlantic, and from
Roulette Records, run by Morris Levy. Roulette eventually won out,
though by shady means, according to James.

"The way it happened was that all the companies said yes ­ Atlantic,
CBS, Kama Sutra," James said. "The last place it was taken to was
Roulette. The following day, we start getting calls back that they
have all got to pass. We said, we were really amazed, 'What's going
on? Why are they saying no after they said yes yesterday?' Later on,
I found out from Jerry Wexler at Atlantic that Morris Levy had called
all the companies and said, 'This is my [freaking] record.' They all
backed down; that's how we ended up on Roulette."

According to James, at the time the band signed with the label, they
didn't know of its purported mob connections, although they soon found out.

"Four of the regulars up at Roulette that we knew and were rubbing
shoulders with ended up being bosses of the family from 1966 through
the late '70s," James said. "It was quite an interesting place to be.
In the midst of having sold 110 million albums, 23 gold singles, nine
platinum, 80 [percent] to 90 percent of my success [was on the label]
­ all this was going on at the very same moment all this other very
dark stuff was going on at the same time. It was quite an education."

Get out of town

During his time with Roulette, James found himself in some "really
scary" situations, including a period in 1971 when he was forced to
leave New York City for Nashville, where he cut the
country-influenced "My Head, My Bed & My Red Guitar."

"When the Gambinos were taking over New York, Morris Levy and
Roulette were on the wrong side of that," James said. "I was told by
my lawyer . . . that it would be a good idea if I left town for a few
weeks. [He told me], 'If they can't get Morris, they'll get whatever
is making Morris money,' and that was me."

Although James said that "getting your money was practically
impossible and leaving was practically impossible," he did manage to
leave the label in 1974. However, he maintains that despite all this,
Roulette had its good points.

"They were a good record company as far as selling records; nobody
could sell singles better than Roulette, and gradually I got them
into the album market as well," James said.

"If we had been on any of the corporate labels, we would have been
handed an in-house producer, had one or two hits, and that would have
been the end of us. Basically, we were allowed to spend as much as we
needed to spend, and allowed to morph from a garage band to a pop
band into the psychedelic era. We were able to have the public's
attention to spend money and make the records we needed to make. I
don't think, if we had been on the majors, we would have been able to do that."
--

' '60s Spectacular'
WITH: Tommy James and the Shondells, The Association, The New
Rascals, The Happenings
When: 7:30 p.m. Saturday
Where: Proctors, 432 State St., Schenectady
How Much: $49.75, $42.75, $34.75
More Info: 346-6204 or www.proctors.org

.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Taos hosts a 'Summer of Love' celebration

Taos hosts a 'Summer of Love' celebration

http://www.usatoday.com/travel/destinations/2009-04-23-taos-summer-of-love_N.htm

4/23/09
By Jayne Clark, USA TODAY

It's been 40 years since Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper roared across
the New Mexico landscape against a high-desert sky and a Born to be
Wild soundtrack in the film Easy Rider. Now the community of Taos is
ready to par-tay from May through September in a flashback
commemoration that dusts off a number of the era's icons.

Dubbed Taos Summer of Love 2009, the event melds music, art and film,
and kicks off with a fundraising dinner May 3 hosted by Hopper, a
part-time Taos resident. The band Hot Tuna salutes biker week with a
concert May 23, and on June 6, Country Joe MacDonald will create his
Woodstock show. Other highlights: a photo exhibit of works from the
'60s and '70s, a "Psychedelic Sixties" dance performance, and on June
20, an outdoor showing of Easy Rider at the Taos County Sheriff's
Posse Arena. Now that's irony. Information: taossummeroflove.com.

.

WOODSTOCK REDUX

WOODSTOCK REDUX

http://auburnjournal.com/detail/112591.html?content_source=&category_id=&search_filter=&user_id=&event_mode=&event_ts_from=&event_ts_to=&list_type=&order_by=&order_sort=&content_class=1&sub_type=&town_id=&page=

The 40th anniversary of Woodstock will be get a West Coast
celebration later this year at San Francisco's Golden Gate Park.

The free concert should attract a sea of mellow humanity to look back
and, shall we dare to say, groove in fond remembrance of a festival
and a time that really rocked the planet. Guitar player Leigh
Stephens, whose music was a big part of those times, has been invited
to perform and has passed word to Media Life that he'll either be
riffing with his old band Blue Cheer or making super-charged sounds
with much the same group that he played with ­ and wowed ­ at the
Summer of Love tribute concert in late 2007.

Stephens, who's best known for some sizzling fretboard frenetics on
1968's "Summertime Blues," is on Rolling Stone magazine's list of Top
100 guitar players. He's also an Auburn resident.

Stephens is anticipating a good crowd and good weather. About 70,000
people showed up for the 2007 tribute to music impresario Chet Helms.
And the Indian summer is going to likely be washing the City by the
Bay in sunshine and moderate temperatures.

The event will be Oct. 25 at Speedway Meadows in the park. It's being
produced in association with Artie Kornfield, the original producer
for 1969's Woodstock in upstate New York.

The whole high-powered hootenanny should draw a who's who list of
prominent musicians from the area but also a large contingent of
guitarists in the audience. The event will be held in honor of Jimi
Hendrix, a Woodstock headliner, and plans are to gather 3,000 guitar
players together to form the world's largest guitar ensemble to play
"Purple Haze" in honor of the auspicious occasion.

.

Police will talk to FBI mole

Police will talk to FBI mole

http://www.sfexaminer.com/local/Police-will-talk-to-FBI-mole-43603487.html

By: Tamara Barak Aparton
Examiner Staff Writer
04/23/09

The former FBI informant who said he can tie 1960s radical William
Ayers to the bombing of a police station in The City will reportedly
be interviewed today by San Francisco police.

Park Police Station was bombed Feb. 16, 1970, killing Sgt. Brian
McDonnell and injuring eight other officers.

Larry Grathwohl, who infiltrated the radical group Weather
Underground and later testified in front of the U.S. Senate and
several grand juries, said a San Francisco police inspector asked to
interview him while he's in town.

Grathwohl has been involved in federal probes into the bombing, but
has never been interviewed by San Francisco police, he said.

"It's ironic that in 39 years, the San Francisco Police Department
and the prosecutor's office haven't asked to talk to me," Grathwohl said.

Police Sgt. Wilfred Williams said he could not confirm today's
questioning of Grathwohl or comment on the case since it's an open
investigation.

Grathwohl said Ayers told him that his wife, Bernadine Dohrn, planted
the bomb with Ayers' knowledge.

The former FBI informant came to The City to speak at a Thursday news
conference held by conservative writer and activist Cliff Kincaid,
who is spearheading an effort to indict Ayers and Dohrn in the bombing.

Ayers became a household name during Barack Obama's presidential
campaign, when Obama was criticized by opponents for serving on a
charitable board with Ayers.

News of the interview comes about a month after a possible link
between Ayers and the bombing was reported.

In March, the San Francisco Police Officers Association provided a
letter of support for Kincaid's effort. Union leaders still believe
Ayers was involved in the bombing, but they have distanced themselves
from Kincaid's organization, USA Survival. Union President Gary
Delagnes said he is only concerned with justice for McDonnell.

Ronald Martin, a former officer injured in the bombing, released a
statement this week calling for justice in the case. However, Martin
said he is not sure if the Weather Underground, Black Liberation Army
or both were responsible for the bombing.
--

tbarak@sfexaminer.com

.

Coachella’s Peaceful Power Seems Out of ‘Stock’

Coachella's Peaceful Power Seems Out of 'Stock'

http://www.cityonahillpress.com/2009/04/23/coachella%E2%80%99s-peaceful-power-seems-out-of-%E2%80%98stock%E2%80%99/

By Rod Bastanmehr & Rula Al-Nasrawi
City on a Hill Press Editor & Reporter
April 23, 2009

It all started in 1969.

Thousands upon thousands, and then a few thousand more, journeyed to
the town of Bethel, N.Y., sitting through hours of bumper-to-bumper
traffic, all for the love of music.

Billed simply as "Three Days of Peace & Music," the Woodstock Art and
Music Festival defined the 1960s counterculture, allowing for both
freedom of expression and freedom from authority.

Woodstock was the godfather of the music festival, with attendees
projecting their idea of how a Vietnam-focused world should be ­ not
filled with lies and war, but flooded in peace and devoid of
violence. A micro-nation where the minds were open, the people were
countless, the drugs were constant and the love was free.

In fact, Woodstock's three-day-long music, substance and sex binge
paved the way for modern events which include everything from
Lollapalooza to Bonnaroo, Bummershoot, and most recently, Coachella.

Three months after the disastrous Woodstock '99 ­ an attempt to
recreate the original event on its 30th anniversary ­ ended in
violence, fires and riots due to unhealthy environmental conditions,
Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival kicked off on Oct. 9 and 10.

This weekend marked the 10th annual Coachella festival, with acts
that included Paul McCartney, the Cure, Atmosphere and M.I.A. ­
lightyears away from Woodstock's Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and
Creedence Clearwater Revival.

And while the essence of the Woodstock formula was still present at
Coachella, many things have changed since that historic weekend in
1969. The peace that ran rampant throughout the Woodstock lifeline
was traded here for conveniently-placed ATM machines. Attendees that
once sought solace from a Vietnam-drenched reality were instead
replaced with twentysomethings desperately searching for a way to
charge their phones. And if the $6 pizza slices were any indication,
it's doubtful that even the love was free.

It's the simplicity that's gone missing. These festivals represent
more than just a three-day pass to a seemingly endless stream of live
performances. What was once a celebration of music and minimalism is
now simply a fashion show reminiscent of Halloween and a David Bowie
house party gone terribly wrong.

Hipsters and wannabe hippies whipped out their feathered headbands
and glittered fanny packs, stopping at nothing to stand out in a
crowd of thousands. The only problem was that in the process of
trying to look original, everyone looked exactly the same: confused,
clichéd, and hoping to get even a taste of the simplicity that ran
rampant nearly 40 years ago.

While tickets for Woodstock once cost $24 at the door, a single day
at Coachella cost $99 alone, resulting in a whopping $300 for all
three days. Counterculture chic, this is not.

With ticket prices like that, how could Coachella be anything but a
pretentious indiefest? Woodstock's essence was being comfortable in
what it was ­ whatever that was. It was beautiful without being
commercial, important without knowing, and original without trying.

It seems as if the music festival provides an accurate depiction of
our current generation: While the love of music still prevails, this
love has turned slightly sour and materialistic.

There were, however, kernels of something so much wiser within
certain moments of musical nirvana. Each night's headliners brought
with them an entirely different generational feel. Paul McCartney's
generous helping of Beatles classics helped make the heat-drenched
night feel like the 1960s. The Killers' pop-operatic stage show was
reminiscent of the Bowie-influenced glam rock of the 1970s. And the
final night was 1980 incarnate, when the Cure reminded us that
they're still the Cure.

But there was no meaning to any of the weekend's seemingly epic
events. Every once in a while, an artist would make the obligatory
"praise Obama" plug, lamenting the end of any possible Bush-bashing
lyricism, followed often by a single female asserting her
independence in a male-dominated media world. Note to all future
faux-feminist performers: threatening to "punch a man's balls off" is
neither comical nor anatomically correct. But those moments were few
and far between.

Coachella is an experience, and in essence can't be anything more
than what it is. Perhaps trying to emulate Woodstock is itself a
fool's errand; the beauty of events as seemingly important as those
lies in their inability to predict their own vitality. And maybe
we're just not in the place anymore to need an escape that also
serves as a message. With no draft and a president many adore, maybe
the days of message-heavy festivals are long gone.

Coachella may be more superficial than its politically-fueled
counterpart, but those three days represent something else now: they
represent the excess of experience, just not the willingness to matter.
--

Also, see:
Today's Hippies Are Doing It Wrong
http://glosslip.com/2009/04/24/todays-hippies-are-doing-it-wrong/

.

Rock music show pays tribute to hippie generation

Rock music show pays tribute to hippie generation

http://www.ledger-dispatch.com/life/lifeview.asp?c=256289

Friday, April 24, 2009
By Marcia Oxford

"Hippie Party," a rock music show guaranteed to elicit memories of an
entire generation, is a concept that came to musician John Covert in
1968 and which he is promoting to Amadorians who want to capture
those times of peace, love and psychedelic music. Also hippie clothes
and long hair in case you really want to immerse yourself in the past.

The first public show is set for Saturday, June 27, 7:30 p .m. at the
Jackson Elks Lodge. A second show is scheduled Sept, 26 at the Amador
Senior Center. Tickets, available in May, are $7 advance at Hein &
Co. Bookstore, Jackson; Mother Lode Music, Martell complex, and
Sutter Creek Ice Cream Emporium; tickets will be $10 at the door.

"I first thought of doing this when when we started recording my
Crystal Image band's original songs for our album," Covert said. "I'm
very proud of the cast and crew involved in the production. They're
like family. We invite guests to come in costume, which is a great
way to get involved. We're hoping that some old hippies like me will
bring their children to see what a beautiful time of peace and love it was."

Covert commented that the Hippie generation also danced at the
Fillmore Auditorium to music from such glittering stars as Joni
Mitchell, James Taylor, Crosby, Stills and Nash, Jefferson Airplane
and perhaps the most famous of all, the Grateful Dead.

Covert's Hippie Party group is a larger form of the Crystal Image
Band, CDs of which were recorded from 1968-1970. These CDs be sold at
the parties. Crystal Image music features from two to six musicians,
all of whom perform for the parties, including Covert, a
keyboardist/vocalist and songwriter. Adding to the familiar music
will be a dazzling light show and the musicians' Hippie costumes.

"I lived and loved the hippie movement and the musical and emotional
atmosphere, and I wanted others to see what it was like. I've
previewed the show with some folks and it's pretty wild," Covert
added. Visit www.soundclick.com/hippieparty or call 223-0902.

.

Marching Through History with César Chávez

[2 articles]

Marching Through History with César Chávez

http://breezejmu.org/2009/04/27/marching-through-history-with-cesar-chavez/

April 27, 2009
By Anna Young, Managing Editor

Part one of a two-part series on photojournalist Cathy Murphy's work
with United Farm Workers

HARRISONBURG, Va. ­ How many of us can say we have lived next door to
a revolutionary? How many of us were there during one of the most
monumental civil rights movements, documenting the struggles and
triumphs of a workers' revolution, as well as the personal life of
their legendary leader?

Cathy Murphy was a photojournalism student who lived next door to
César Chávez during the United Farm Workers strikes and the Thousand
Mile March in the mid-1970s in California.

"One of my goals in life was to make some kind of social justice
through my photography," Murphy said.

Chávez, a Mexican American farm worker and civil rights activist,
dedicated his life to helping disenfranchised and mistreated migrant
workers and fighting against child labor in the fields of California
until his death in 1993.

"César Chávez was a fabulous organizer, he was a grassroots
organizer," Murphy said. "He spent years doing that in a struggle to
get the farm workers union going, getting people involved, telling
people that by joining together, they would have power to make
changes for social justice."

The mountain community of "La Paz," the United Farm Workers
headquarters in Keene, Calif., boasted little more than several small
houses scattered along a dirt road and an old hospital habituated by
UFW volunteers. It was here that Murphy cultivated her relationship
with the Chávez family, as her and her young son were neighbors with
Chávez. Although Murphy rarely interrupted Chávez while he was at
home, she got to know his wife, Helen, and his son, Paul, his
daughter, Anna, and Anna's husband, Richard.

"I became close with the family and César trusted me and he invited
me to go with him to family functions and photograph his family," Murphy said.

Just as the grapes were ripening in the fields in the summer of 1975,
Chávez led the Thousand Mile March, a procession full of rallies and
protests that began at the U.S.-Mexico border and ended at the UFW
headquarters.

"César was walking the highways and going into communities all along
the way, telling workers in the field they finally had their right to
organize and to vote for union representation," Murphy said.

Murphy first photographed Chávez while she was a student at Brooks
Institute of Photography in Santa Barbara, Calif., working for a
local newspaper. "César was hard to see as he was short and
surrounded by security guards with two large German shepherds in
front of him," Murphy once wrote. "I moved quickly into the line, in
front of César and behind the dogs, and took my first photograph of
César while walking backwards on the highway. César looked me in the
eye but said nothing."

Because the photographer for UFW quit, Chávez asked if he could see
the photographs Murphy had taken for the Santa Barbara News and Review.

From that point on, Murphy worked as a photographer for the United
Farm Workers. She spent 58 days walking 20 miles of highway a day
through rural California, documenting the Thousand Mile March. After
the march, Murphy spent more than two years in the fields with
migrant workers of all ages, including young children, photographing
their living and working conditions.

The photographs of the farm workers, the Thousand Mile March and the
professional and personal sides of Chávez have made their way to JMU
and are now featured in the Prism Gallery in the lower level of
Festival through Friday.

Murphy's "March Through History with César Chávez" photo-documentary
exhibit contains more than 40 monotone photos taken between 1975 and 1976.

The exhibit "shows many sides of Chávez that many people may not be
familiar with," said Melanie Brimhall, the director of education for
the Madison Art Collection. "It particularly shows the personal side
of him: walking with children, with his dogs, doing yoga, the fact
that he followed Gandhi so closely… it shows the painful moments
where he was in thought agonizing over whether or not to cause a
strike knowing that people had already been shot and killed for
striking. When he would call a strike he knew he was sending these
people into harm's way and that must have weighed heavily on him and
you can see that in these photographs."

In addition to portraying the more personal moments of Chávez's life,
the collection also contains portraits of child laborers and migrant workers.

"It's one thing to read about the United Farm Workers and that
movement in textbooks but it's another thing to come and look at
these photographs," Brimhall said. "To see Lupita, the child who was
working in the fields, in her socks and holding a pesticide bucket
while she was gathering onions, and to see the man who fell from a
lemon tree and couldn't get medical care and lost a limb; the stories
and the pictures you see, the pain in their faces, add the personal
side of that whole movement."

Although there are more than 100 photographs in the entire
collection, the Prism Gallery can hold only around 40 frames. Murphy
had to prioritize which photos were most important for telling the
story of Chávez, the movement and the farm workers.

"There were a few that needed to be in there," said Murphy, speaking
of the photo of Chávez doing yoga. "It shows his commitment to
nonviolence: He became vegetarian, he quit smoking and drinking and
he practiced yoga."

Murphy came to JMU for the unveiling of the Prism Gallery exhibit on
March 31, Chávez's birthday. She spent a week in Harrisonburg, where
she made a number of appearances, including at two radio stations:
WMRA and the local Hispanic station, La Gran D.

Although she was slated to give only three presentations as a JMU
visiting scholar, Murphy gave 11 lectures around JMU and
Harrisonburg. "When she got here everyone kept clamoring for her to
speak with them," Brimhall said. "She carried on back-to-back
sessions just so she could talk to everyone who wanted to hear her."

Murphy's photo-documentary was brought to JMU because it fulfills the
need for education and diversity, for which the gallery was created,
according to Brimhall. "We were looking for exhibits on diverse
cultures and a broad view of humanity for the Prism Gallery," she
said. "It touched on so many different groups and programs on campus
and within our community." The gallery also reaches out to
Harrisonburg's Hispanic residents "to encourage them to come on
campus and to see our university," Brimhall said.

The exhibit was also brought to JMU because Chávez was recently added
to the third grade curriculum as part of Virginia public schools'
Standards of Learning requirements, and the gallery hosts more than
4,000 kindergarten through 12-grade students a year, according to
Kathryn Stevens, Madison Art Collection Director.

Brimhall added the exhibit also appeals to JMU's education majors,
photography and photojournalism students, as well as teachers and
professors. "Because he's Californian, a lot of people in Virginia
just haven't heard of César Chávez," Stevens said. "And of course a
lot of our teachers are younger so they don't even remember the '70s
and the protests."

Said Murphy: "It's a traveling exhibit, and the more places it is…
The more people who find out about Chávez, the better, particularly
in this area. I think there are a lot of students who have never
heard of César Chávez before."
--

Contact Anna Young at breezepress@gmail.com
--

View the slideshow here.
http://breezejmu.org/2009/04/27/slideshow-marching-through-history-with-cesar-chavez/

--------

Preserving Chavez's legacy

http://www.dailytexanonline.com/preserving-chavez-s-legacy-1.1637615

Council, president of United Farm Workers honor union founder's life, work

Priscilla Totiyapungprasert
Daily Texan Staff
Published: Wednesday, April 1, 2009

More than 40 years ago, Cesar Chavez founded the United Farm Workers
of America to bring farm workers' rights to the public and
legislative forefront. Despite improvement, some of the same problems
of the 1960s still persist today, said union president Arturo Rodriguez.

Rodriguez spoke Tuesday evening at the Texas Union Ballroom during a
Cesar Chavez Day celebration about immigration reform and the future
of farm workers' rights. The Mexican American Culture Committee
hosted the event.

"Undocumented workers make up 80 percent of the agricultural
workforce, or 1.6 million people," Rodriguez said. "They get taken
advantage of by people of power."

Earlier in the day, as part of the celebration, members of the Latino
Leadership Council stood in silence as part of the celebration on the
steps of UT Tower with their mouths covered by strips of red or white cloth.

Journalism senior Brenda Menchaca said Chavez struggled for not only
for farmers' rights but for other marginalized individuals as well.

"The covered mouths represent the voices of those who have been
traditionally silenced ­ people of color, farmers, women and people
of low-economic status," said Cindy Quintanilla, a spokeswoman for the council.

The percentage of undocumented workers living in the U.S. surged in
the 1970s during a time of high unemployment in Mexico and as farmers
left the agricultural field to work in casinos, restaurants and in
less labor-intensive jobs, Rodriguez said. Maquiladoras, or factories
along the border in such cities as Tijuana, Montemorelos and
Brownsville, were abandoned when companies looked to China for cheape labor.

This left growers needing inexpensive labor, Rodriguez said.

"[Undocumented workers] are always living in fear of being caught, so
they don't gripe or bring attention to themselves," Rodriguez said.
"They live in the shadows because they don't want people to know
they're there."

The AgJOBS legislation ­ which has not passed in Congress ­ proposes
providing undocumented workers the opportunity to participate in an
earned-legalization program. The program would grant seasonal farm
workers temporary legal status. After working for a period of time,
the workers could then apply for legal citizenship.

The Latino Leadership Council has assailed major fast food chains for
buying tomatoes supplied by businesses accused of abusing farm workers.

These businesses employ farmers, a majority of whom are
Mexican-American, to work in exchange for payment does not cover the
standard cost of living, said history senior Jay Guevara.

After speaking with President Barack Obama several times, Rodriguez
said the president has been supportive of the laborers' cause and
that Obama has appointed staff members who are also supportive,
including Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, Secretary of Labor
Hilda Solis and Secretary of the Interior Ken Salazar.

He also applauded Secretary of Agriculture Tom Vilsack for spending
time living with families in the Rio Grande Valley. Rodriguez said he
believes the Obama administration will take the necessary steps to
help improve farmers' lives.

Laura Gamez, the committee's president and a public relations junior,
said she hopes those who attended the event left with a better
understanding of misconceptions surrounding the conditions of
immigrant farm laborers.

"Farmers are one of the hardest working people in country, and they
get no respect," Rodriguez said. "They came here to improve their
standard of living, feed their children and follow the American Dream
­ they're not terrorists; they're not here to destruct our lifestyle."

At the event, Rodriguez told the story of Maria Vasquez Jimenez, a
17-year-old worker who traveled from Oaxaca, Mexico, to work on a
California farm. She collapsed after suffering from heat stress and
thirst. Two hours after the collapse, she was taken to the hospital
at her boyfriend's insistence. She died later that day.

The young woman was the first of six workers there, both documented
and undocumented, to die from heat stress, Rodriguez said.

Despite the abuses farm workers continue to suffer, Rodriguez said,
the U.S. has made strong improvements in labor reform since Chavez
founded the union.

Some of these improvements include enforcing minimum wage law,
establishing farm workers' rights to representation, forming a
pension plan for seasonal workers and creating the Robert F. Kennedy
medical plan to provide benefits to seasonal workers and their families.

"Chavez was a committed and passionate man who could speak to the
workers and then go speak to the governor," Rodriguez said. "But what
he enjoyed the most was sitting down with the workers and listening
to their concerns, their stories."

The protesters also voiced their stance on Texas' top 10 percent law,
which grants state-university admission to public high school
students who graduate in the top 10 percent of their classes.

Though UT President William Powers has said on previous occasions he
favors a top 10 percent admissions cap, Quintanilla said the cap
would be detrimental for minorities.
Affirmative action is a small factor in admissions, Quintanilla said.

"Without other actions in place, such as the top 10 percent rule,
underrepresented students will not have the same chance to get into a
tier-one university," Quintanilla said.

.

A memoir of growing up communist

'When Skateboards Will Be Free' by Saïd Sayrafiezadeh

http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/news/la-ca-skateboard26-2009apr26,0,7737992.story

A memoir of growing up communist in the land of indulgence and plenty.

By Carolyn Kellogg
April 26, 2009

When SkateboardsWill Be Free
A Memoir of a Political Childhood
Saïd Sayrafiezadeh
Dial Press: 292 pp., $22

Let's start with the grapes. Sympathetic or not, most Californians
who are old enough remember the 1973 United Farm Workers grape
boycott. Just 4 years old and 3,000 miles away, Saïd Sayrafiezadeh
knew about it too: He wanted grapes, but he knew he couldn't have
them, and why.

What was different for Sayrafiezadeh was that his mother encouraged
him to eat grapes -- while standing in the grocery store -- because
then it was stealing. Stealing from the store's owners, a part of the
corrupt capitalist system exploiting César Chávez's farmworkers, was
entirely OK.

Not exactly your standard "No Grapes" spiel. Sayrafiezadeh grew up
inside a small, underacknowledged American subculture, the group
officially known as the Socialist Workers Party.

More plainly, his parents were communists.

Yet politics is remarkably absent from his memoir "When Skateboards
Will Be Free." Sayrafiezadeh places the reader inside his red bubble:
It was normal to fall asleep on folding chairs at meetings, to be
subject to a parade of only semi-trustworthy comrades, to haul boxes
of the Militant newspaper from one unfortunate apartment to the next.

Sayrafiezadeh was the youngest of three children born to a
mathematics graduate student from Iran and a Jewish girl from New
York majoring in English literature. When Sayrafiezadeh was very
young, his father took off; the older siblings joined him, leaving
Sayrafiezadeh with his mother. When Sayrafiezadeh was 7, his mother
moved them from New York to Pittsburgh. She had family there: Her
brother, Mark Harris, wrote the book "Bang the Drum Slowly."

Sayrafiezadeh was deeply aware of the contrast between his own wants
and his uncle's upper-middle-class world. "I blamed them for what I
did not have," he writes, exemplified by "an extraordinary painting .
. . of a partially unwrapped chocolate bar. When I passed this
chocolate bar hanging in the landing of the staircase, I wanted to
stick my hand right into it and grab a piece and stuff it into my
mouth and face the consequences."

Despite this nearby affluence, his mother moved them into awful,
cramped apartments, in neighborhoods with empty lots and abandoned
refrigerators. The two were desperately poor: At one point his
mother, gloveless, wrapped her fingers in tape.

In spite of it all, the author managed to be a normal kid who made
friends, tidied his room, stole comic books and revered his absent
father. If he felt a burning class resentment, he didn't know to
label it as such -- he was unaware of his difference. This changed,
as it does for most kids, as adolescence loomed. But his difference
was hastened by world events. He was 10, carrying an Iranian name,
when the hostages were taken in 1979.

Suddenly his classmates knew about Iran -- that it was bad -- and
Sayrafiezadeh felt a new tension: "The desire to set the record
straight was replaced by a desire to leave well enough alone." But
he'd lived in a world in which leaders pontificated and supporters
clapped. "The hostages are spies and should be tried for the Iranian
people," he blurted, hearing the words as if spoken by someone else.
"They'll deserve whatever they get." He was instantly an outcast.

It was the first time he'd faced the boundaries of the belief system
in which he was raised. If there is a moment when this elegant story
is failed by its lack of critical analysis, it's here. He must have
known that these words would set him apart. But as he utters these
phrases was he merely a parrot? Was he trying to speak truth to
unbelievers? Was he trying to be like his father? Mahmoud
Sayrafiezadeh abandoned his son, but never the Party. He was an
important SWP figure, even running for president of
post-revolutionary Iran. His son inherited his ideology -- when the
revolution came, his mother promised him, skateboards would be free.

Later, living in Manhattan and working for Martha Stewart,
Sayrafiezadeh tries to answer his girlfriend's questions about being
a communist: "Flaring inside me was the impulse to respond with
generalizations, or various patched-together facts. . . . Eventually
I stopped trying to answer, and muttered to myself, 'I guess I don't
really know what I'm talking about,' and she had responded, more
surprised than accusatory, 'Yes, it sounds like you don't.' "

We are all born into belief systems, but most of us are members of
one so dominant it seems given. Sayrafiezadeh's experience shows us
more than just the tired rhetoric of the Socialist Workers Party --
it reveals how hard it is for any of us to see the boundaries of the
ideology we inherit.
--

Kellogg is lead blogger for Jacket Copy.
carolyn.kellogg@latimes.com

.

Grateful Dead Ahead of its time

Grateful Dead Ahead of its time

http://www.chicagotribune.com/entertainment/music/chi-tc-arts-the-dead-0422-0426_qapr26,0,3176704.story

Band served as an early model for branding

By Greg Kot | Tribune Newspapers critic
April 26, 2009

The Grateful Dead won't die, in part because its fans -- some of
which now work in the White House -- won't let it.

The band broke up in 1995 when Jerry Garcia, one of the greatest
guitarists of his generation and the Papa Bear of Dead-dom, succumbed
to a lifetime of excess. Infighting among the survivors made future
collaborations highly unlikely. "It's hard to say goodbye, it's hard
to let go, but the page got turned for us," drummer Mickey Hart told
the Tribune a year after the guitarist's death.

But the Dead never went away, sustained by hundreds of archival
recordings and a community of fans that stretch into every sector of
society -- including the administration of President Barack Obama.
Two of the president's senior advisers, David Axelrod and Pete Rouse,
as well as deputy chief of staff Jim Messina count themselves among
the legion of Deadheads.

The Obama team was instrumental in the band's latest comeback as the
Dead (no longer "Grateful," alas). The estranged band members were
invited to play an Obama rally in Pennsylvania in October, and things
went so well that the core surviving members -- guitarist Bob Weir,
bassist Phil Lesh, drummers Hart and Bill Kreutzmann -- decided to
keep rolling. They returned to play the Inaugural Ball Jan. 20 in
Washington, and this month embarked on a 23-date tour that includes
concerts May 4-5 at the Allstate Arena. The touring lineup also
includes singer-guitarist Warren Haynes (of Gov't Mule and the Allman
Brothers) and keyboardist Jeff Chimenti (of Weir's band RatDog).

After Garcia died, the survivors feuded over everything from digital
bootlegging of the band's archives to -- what else? -- money. A
couple of reunions during the last decade, first billed as the Other
Ones and then as the Dead, were hits at the box office (a 2003-04
tour raked in $18 million), but did little to quell personal
tensions. Now, thanks in part to Obama's efforts, the band is once
again hitting the road and tentatively talking about writing new songs.

It remains to be seen if the latest reunion will be about more than
just another payday. But what is indisputable is that the Grateful
Dead was a band that both embodied its time (the band is practically
synonymous with the hippie culture and the psychedelic music that
flourished around it in the '60s) and was ahead of it. Long before
the Internet was a factor in the way music was made, distributed and
marketed, the Dead presaged its impact and became a model for how
bands could thrive in a digital age.

In 1994, technology expert Esther Dyson suggested that the ease with
which digital content could be copied and distributed would require a
new economic model for copyright-holders. They would have to
"distribute intellectual property free in order to sell services and
relationships."

No band was better at selling "services and relationships" to its
fans than the Grateful Dead, and no band understood better that free
distribution of its music could be a pathway to building a bigger,
more loyal audience that would reward the band's trust.

Here's how the Dead anticipated the future we now live in during its
1965-95 life span:

Free music: The Dead was among the first bands to encourage its fans
to tape its concerts and distribute tapes to their fellow Dead-heads
worldwide. A specially designated "tapers section" was set up at each
show near the sound board, and fans brought increasingly
sophisticated gear to document nearly every one of the Dead's
2,000-plus concerts.

Make the product unique: Garcia expressed disdain for the recording
studio countless times -- heresy in an era where the studio album
became the centerpiece of music culture. Garcia insisted that live
performance was the lifeblood of his band's music, and created a
template for the jam-band culture. The Dead's studio recordings
slowed to a trickle as the decades passed. Instead, the band focused
on turning its shows into epic, four-hour must-see events for its
followers. The Dead turned touring into an art form, a combination of
high-tech ingenuity and grass-roots communication. The shows were
infamous for their ups and downs, the possibility that the band could
fail, but the sense of improvisation and spontaneity became an
increasingly alluring alternative, especially in the highly
choreographed MTV era. Fans paid to see multiple shows on the same
tour, knowing that each would be one-of-a-kind.

Who needs record companies? Though the Dead worked with major labels
throughout its career, the labels had very little to do with the
band's inner workings. The Dead's operation was essentially
self-contained, a network of friends and associates from the San
Francisco area who assumed various jobs within what would become a
highly successful corporation, Grateful Dead Productions. The band's
mail-order service and later Web site, deadnet.com, became a
gathering place for the Dead's worldwide fan base and sustained the
band's legacy long after Garcia's death.

Sell direct to fans: The Dead released dozens of recordings from a
bottomless stash of archives direct to fans, presaging the
marketplace experiments of Radiohead and Nine Inch Nails. The Dead
released only 13 studio albums in its 30-year lifetime. That
relatively paltry number is dwarfed by dozens of live releases,
including 36 volumes of the "Dick's Picks" archival series alone. The
series was named after archivist Dick Latvala, who ascended from the
ranks of the taper's section in the '70s to become one of the band's
most trusted lieutenants. These releases, which were promoted only
through the band's mail-order service and (later) Internet site, in
many cases exceeded the quality of the band's major-label recordings.

The band as brand: The Dead dealt not just in T-shirts and hats, but
in flip-flops and golf gloves. Frisbees, mugs, bar stools and
license-plate frames. Key chains, a board game and socks. Magnets,
patches and pins. Baby-clothes "onesies," hoodies and a miniature
pyramid. The band also spawned a cottage industry of books, DVDs and
even a syndicated radio show ("The Grateful Dead Hour"). The Dead
became synonymous not just with a style of a music or a certain era,
but also with a way of life that transcended generations.

Remix, remake, reinvent: Were the Dead the first modern rock band?
Like all artists, the Dead borrowed freely from the music and
traditions that preceded them. But a strong case could be made that
no band worked with a wider palette or blended the colors more
audaciously. By constantly reinventing itself through its music, the
band remained relevant across the decades. Under the rubric of
"American music," the Dead mixed blues, country, folk, early rock 'n'
roll, jazz, experimental and even classical music into a fluid
framework built not only on deep knowledge of the past but a
mischievous desire to reshape it.

The band improvised its way through thousands of shows, and suggested
that songs were not immutable artifacts, but organic entities that
could be bent, folded and occasionally mutilated to suit the needs of
the moment. In this respect, they anticipated the mix-and-match
styles that would surface and flourish in the last few decades, from
the cut-and-paste approach of hip-hop and collage artists such as
Girl Talk, to the recombinant rock of Beck and the Flaming Lips. John
Oswald's 1995 studio manipulation of multiple incarnations of the
Dead's epic song "Dark Star" on the album "Grayfolded" is among the
first widely recognized mash-ups.
--

greg@gregkot.com

.

How to Silence an Unruly Mob of Campus Radicals

How to Silence an Unruly Mob of Campus Radicals

http://www.americanthinker.com/2009/04/how_to_silence_an_unruly_mob_o.html

By Jay Schalin
April 23, 2009

Last week, an unruly mob of radical protestors at the University of
North Carolina-Chapel Hill chased former U.S. congressman and
anti-illegal immigration spokesman Tom Tancredo from his speaking
engagement. Police were forced to use pepper spray at one point while
protestors tried to push their way into an already packed room.
Tancredo stopped speaking when protestors outside the building broke
a window in the lecture hall (video).

Last night, it initially appeared that a similar mob might do the
same to another former congressman, Virgil Goode, a Virginian who is
an outspoken opponent of affirmative action and shares views on
immigration to Tancredo. Yet between Goode's persistence, improved
security precautions by the university, and some support from members
of the audience, this time it was the mob that was silenced.

The night began much as it did the previous week. Radical groups
again circulated flyers urging students to protest, and again met in
The Pit (a campus gathering spot) for some pre-speech preparations.
They danced and paraded, some wearing giant masks of the three
monkeys of speak, hear, and see no evil fame. "Hey, ho, YWC has got
to go," they chanted.

YWC stands for Youth for Western Civilization, a new campus
organization that invited both Tancredo and Goode to the Chapel Hill
campus. Protestors have publicly characterized the YWC as white
supremacists for their conservative views. One of the main organizers
stated that the earlier protest's main goal was to stop the YWC from
inviting more speakers like Tancredo.

The protestors' justification for their antics is that the opinions
of conservatives like Tancredo and Goode qualify as "hate speech" and
therefore are not protected under free speech statutes. Furthermore,
they claimed that their shouting and noise-making while Tancredo
tried to lecture does qualify as protected speech.

When Riley Matheson, the founder of the UNC chapter of YWC, took the
stage to introduce Goode, protestors in the audience again responded
with chants, catcalls and profanity to drown him out, as they had
done with Tancredo. They did the same when Goode took his place
behind the lectern.

Yet Goode persevered, despite frequent interruptions and disruptions.
And in the end, he won over the crowd with his honesty, factual
knowledge, and sense of fairness. At the end of the evening, there
seemed to be the same sense of victory among the supporters of Goode
and the YWC that the protestors displayed after Tancredo's
appearance. Only a few protestors lingered outside the building when
the event was over, unlike the week before when their full number
continued protesting and socializing for at least an hour.

The university's security preparations and enforcement were very
different than they were the week before. Whereas Tancredo had to
speak in a lecture hall that seated little more than 100, with no
stage, no podium, and no microphone, on the day of Goode's speech the
venue was changed from a similar lecture hall to the auditorium in
the student union, which seats 390.

The room change gave Goode some separation from his audience, whereas
the antagonistic audience a week before was right on top of Tancredo.
The raucous crowd of between 175 and 200 people that nearly doubled
the capacity of the small lecture hall was easily able to drown out
Tancredo's voice. This was not the case with Goode in the larger
room, where there were only an estimated 150 people in attendance.

The campus police had a strong presence for Goode's speech, with as
many as 20 officers inside and outside the building. And, while, the
week before, the few police (and no administrators) on hand did
nothing to prevent the outbursts by Tancredo's audience members,
shortly into Goode's lecture, a woman shouted at the speaker, "F---
you!" Winston Crisp, the assistant vice chancellor for student
affairs, took the stage and said, "This is going to be the only time
I say this. Whether you are cheering or jeering, we are going to ask
you to allow the speaker to make his comments. If you persist in
behavior that disrupts this program, the DPS (Department of Public
Safety) officers will be asked to remove you from the premises."

While the police didn't remove everybody who tried to disrupt Goode's
speech thereafter, they did make six arrests for disorderly conduct.
Two protestors prompted their arrest by leaping to their feet and
unfurled a banner that said "F--- Racism." One of them shouted
loudly, "I'm a Southern working man (this was likely intended to mock
Goode who had been discussing the displacement of American workers by
illegal immigrants) and I say 'F---- Racism'."

The ranks of the protestors had thinned considerably from last week
as well, diminishing their potential for mischief. While protest
organizers, largely members of the local chapter of the Students for
a Democratic Society, were able to draw between 75 and 100 for the
Tancredo speech, there were no more than 40 present for Goode.

While Goode's speech initially suffered from the radicals' outbursts,
many in the crowd appreciated his unassuming yet forthright manner.
To start the question and answer period, Aaron Maisto, a sophomore
from Charlotte who majors in economics and public administration,
said, "I disagree with probably 95 percent of your opinions. That
said, I must applaud you for maintaining your composure in the face
of some pretty rude people."

Matthew Klinestiver, an African-American junior in Cultural Studies,
prefaced his question by suggesting that Goode's opinions on
affirmative action seemed predicated upon the assumption that it was
always blacks who were superseding more qualified whites by receiving
preferential treatment. "The presence of other races is complicating
that picture," he said, adding that in many prestigious colleges it
is Asians who are often more qualified but not admitted in favor of
whites. "So you're not opposed to seeing a Harvard that's 20 percent white?"

Goode had already stated that "I don't believe in (racial)
preferences. I think the greatest weight by far should be given to
objective standards like SAT scores and grade point averages." He
responded to Klinestiver by saying that if he needed a doctor, he
wanted that doctor to be "the smartest person around." He later added
"if Asian students have the highest SATs and the highest GPAs...then
they should get the slots in Harvard.

Klinestiver said he didn't know much about Goode before the speech,
and had not yet formed an opinion of the congressman, but said of the
Virginian's answer, "I thought it was appropriate."

Matheson used the changing tide of sentiment to get in a dig at the
protestors, who, in the previous week, appeared to directly target
him with a threatening chant: "Against racists, we will fight. We
know where you sleep at night."

This week, when one protestor shouted at him, "We know where you
live," Matheson responded, "Anybody who is interested in exploring
becoming a member of Youth for Western Civilization can contact me by
email, or just stop by my house...since you already know where I
live. I've got a 12-guage."

At the end of the evening, the radicals no longer appeared to be an
emerging force on campus, as they did after the previous week's
incident. Instead, they merely seemed juvenile, irrational, and pathetic.

Wednesday night's outcome helped to erase the stain on UNC's
tradition of free speech that occurred the week before. At the very
least, a workable precedent has been established for how to provide
an atmosphere conducive to the free exchange of ideas when a
conservative speaker comes to campus.
--

Jay Schalin is a senior writer with the Pope Center for Higher
Education Policy in Raleigh, North Carolina.

.

Don’t protest the veterans

[2 articles]

Don't protest the veterans

http://www.mndaily.com/2009/04/26/don%E2%80%99t-protest-veterans

Veterans face great difficulties when returning from combat, we
shouldn't be demeaned by groups like the SDS and Anti-War Committee.

BY Ross Anderson
PUBLISHED: 04/26/2009

I must say right off, this will be the most biased, emotionally
charged column I think I will ever write. I simply can't remove
myself from the anger I feel toward a people who spout such hateful,
demeaning things about an already suffering minority.

You may have heard about last Thursday's confrontation across
Washington Avenue. On one side of the street, there was the Students
for a Democratic Society and the Anti-War Committee. On the other
side was a group of veterans and people who wished to defend
American's right to enlist in our military. According to the veterans
I spoke with, those peace-loving beatniks across the street were
aggressive, disrespectful ­ tossing out insults without provocation ­
and eager to demean the other side.

To the SDS and the Anti-War Committee, I have a candid admission: I
was manipulated, lied to, forced against my will to enlist in the
United States Army. Afterward they made me kill babies indiscriminately.

I know what you're thinking, "What the [expletive]?" Yeah, it's a
ridiculous thing to conjure. Still, the absurdity of this notion does
not escape a certain minority in our population, namely the
above-mentioned groups and their pals.

"Baby killer," "Klu Klux Klan [expletive]," "A­h---." According to my
friend, President of the Student's Veterans Association Bryan Axelrod
, these are the terms that members of SDS/Anti-War Committee apply to
those who have so selflessly served their country.

Now I'm all for protesting, but not if it fallaciously and spitefully
demeans those who choose to wear the uniform. While I don't suggest
that service necessarily demands respect, decency certainly does, and
this language alone invalidates the ideas of those who use it.
Regardless if you find a person's service contemptible, you still are
required to respect that person as a human being (perhaps SDS
disagrees?). The SDS and the Anti-War Committee are the exclamation
point behind the idea that the far-left is the most intolerant group
in the entire realm of political thought. While these groups provide
guys like Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity with ammunition, I ask them
to please stop.

This column previously commented on the activities and policy
suggestions of SDS, and despite my categorical disagreement with
their ideas ­immediate, unconditional withdrawal from the Middle
East, absent a responsible exit strategy ­ I addressed them in a
respectful and diplomatic tone. But in light of the way they paint
veterans in their highly skewed promotions, and after learning how
they treated my friends from the Veterans Student Association last
Thursday, I feel they have now forfeited this courtesy.

I will not contest SDS/Anti-War Committee policy stances. This column
already refuted their mushy-headed suggestions and their ideas truly
don't deserve to be entertained twice.

My issue today is the harmful puke that the protesters spew onto the
public. I live in the Seward neighborhood, so I am especially privy
to their misinformation. If you were to believe the literature put
out by these groups, all veterans are morons who were tricked into
enlisting and served only to "destroy lives and deny
self-determination of the peoples in Afghanistan and Iraq." It also
serves their agenda to promote the idea that service in either place
results in Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and that the majority of
veterans have it.

Don't you people get it? These "baby-killers" of whom you speak are
not just numbers. We are not talking points to be used for your
propaganda. We are real people. We are your neighbors, your customer
service representatives, your CEOs and just maybe the kid sitting
next to you in class. Like I said, I'm not against protesting the
war, but I wish the SDS/Anti-War Committee would stop insulting our
nation's veterans in the process.

I wonder if they even realize how offensive their ideas are. I also
wonder if they understand the shallow nature of their arguments.

Groups like the SDS and Anti-War Committee want you believe that we
all have PTSD, and based on a recent report, the Homeland Security
Department has an interest in promoting the idea that veterans are
more likely to be right-wing extremist. I know many veterans and I
assure you this propaganda is false. Beyond that, it is morally
repugnant and incredibly harmful to a minority who already faces
great challenges. This politically motivated tripe belongs nowhere in
the marketplace of ideas. The idea being promoted is that veterans
are an entity to be either pitied or feared. Why can't we just be?
With all that we have to contend with (and I assure you that
returning from combat is no easy road to hoe), why must we also
contend with your hurtful judgments?

If the SDS/Anti-War Committee is going to spout untruths to advance
their agenda, I suppose that's their right. But I ask that they
please leave my vet buddies and me out of it, because, quite
honestly, it hurts our feelings.

To the leadership of these groups, I know you are well-reasoned
individuals, but your minions are clearly not. I ask that you please
do like every branch of the military does and offer your troops some
sort of sensitivity training.
--

Ross Anderson welcomes comments at randerson@mndaily.com.

--------

Fight breaks out amid Stadium Village protest

http://www.mndaily.com/2009/04/23/fight-breaks-out-amid-stadium-village-protest

A dual protest over a near-campus recruiting office turned violent Thursday.

BY Hillary Kline
PUBLISHED: 04/23/2009

Two opposing protests in front of a Stadium Village military
recruitment office Thursday ­ totaling about 50 people ­ led to at
least one fight, though no arrests were made.

Members of the Students for a Democratic Society and Anti-War
Committee lined up on Washington Avenue to protest military
involvement in the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq Thursday morning.

In opposition to the protest, students from the University of
Minnesota's College Republicans, as well as veterans and supporters,
positioned themselves in front of the recruiting office, carrying
signs accusing the original protestors of being unpatriotic.

One sign read, "End the war by winning it."

The dual protest began peacefully, with each group trying to muffle
the other's message in a shouting competition from separate sides of
the street. Eventually, members of SDS, the Anti-War Committee and
supporters crossed the street to protest in front of the military
recruiting office, resulting in a brief physical altercation between
the opposing groups leaving a few protestors pushed to the ground.

Police arrived on the scene shortly after, and the protest went on peacefully.

Sgt. Ryan Mueller, a team leader at the recruiting station, said the
recruiting office re-opened last week. He said no recruitments were
made Thursday.

Thursday's protest was one of many demonstrations planned throughout
the Twin Cities area in an effort to stop recruits from enlisting.

Grace Kelley, member of SDS, said she joined the student group less
than a year ago in preparation for the Republican National Convention
protest. The English senior said the group's slogan for Thursday's
protest was, "Recruiters lie and people die."

Holding a sign that read, "Save students, stop recruiters," Linden
Gawboy, who is currently unemployed, said she came to Thursday's
protest to show solidarity with the students who are against
recruiting on campus. She said because the cost of tuition is rising,
many students are being forced to turn to the military to help pay
for expenses; she said she believes people should enter the military freely.

Beth Englund attended Thursday's protest. Her son, Rob Emerson, came
home Wednesday night from serving in Afghanistan for the last six
months. He is currently stationed in Cherry Point, N.C.

Englund said although she thinks the people protesting have the right
to voice their opinion, she feels the protest was disrespectful to
the United States and those enlisted in the military.

Chairman of College Republicans and political science senior
Abdul-Rahman Magba-Kamara called those protesting military enlistment
"un-American."

"You can be against the war, and that's fine … but you can't be
against our military in general, that just doesn't make any sense," he said.

.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Franklin Rosemont (1943-2009)

Franklin Rosemont (1943-2009):
Leading US surrealist and anthologist of André Breton dies

http://www.wsws.org/articles/2009/apr2009/rose-a25.shtml

By Paul Bond
25 April 2009

The death of Franklin Rosemont deserves some notice. He played an
important role in popularising the work of poet André Breton for
English-speaking audiences, while the foundation of the Chicago
Surrealist Group to some extent revived the movement after Breton's
death. Rosemont was also a noted labour historian and publisher.

Franklin Rosemont was born in Chicago in 1943. His father, Henry, a
printer, was a union activist. Sally, his mother, was a jazz
musician. This family environment admixture of radicalism and
artistry stayed with him throughout his life, and perhaps shaped his
self-mythologising. He claimed to have joined the Industrial Workers
of the World at the age of 7. In reality, the IWW ceased to exist as
a serious organization in the aftermath of the Russian Revolution and
the establishment of Communist Parties, which everywhere attracted
the best elements in revolutionary syndicalism.

Rosemont claimed to remain loyal to the IWW's syndicalism throughout
his life. In real terms, what does this mean? That he rejected
Stalinism and reformism, but couldn't see his way clear, under
complex political conditions, to genuine Marxism.

Rosemont was also heavily influenced at an early age by the Wobbly
cartoonist, satirist, and songwriter, T-Bone Slim. He was later to
edit an anthology of T-Bone Slim's writings, Juice Is Stranger Than Friction.

Rosemont's keen study of avant-garde literary and artistic movements
seems to have started at an early age. At 15, influenced by Beat
writers like Jack Kerouac, he hitchhiked to California. There he met
the radical poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti, owner of the City Lights
bookshop. Rosemont dropped out of high school, having spent long
hours in the library of the Art Institute of Chicago studying surrealism.

Despite these interruptions to his schooling, he enrolled at
Roosevelt University in Chicago in 1962. Here he met Penelope, who
would become his wife and his closest collaborator for the rest of
his life. At Roosevelt, Rosemont studied anthropology under St. Clair
Drake, the African-American sociologist who also served as adviser to
Ghana's first prime minister, Kwame Nkrumah. Rosemont was enormously
impressed by Drake's work on urban life, race, and race relations.
Drake's work continued to direct Rosemont's thinking throughout his life.

Rosemont, already radicalised by his family upbringing, was heavily
influenced by a rising tide of political activity and thinking. He
had already been reading about the Cuban Revolution and the civil
rights movement, and at Roosevelt he threw himself into student
politics. Throughout the 1960s he and the Chicago Surrealist Group
continued to work closely with the Students for a Democratic Society
(SDS), a radical student group closely associated with the New Left.
He took a leading role in an IWW-led strike of blueberry pickers in
Michigan in 1964, and produced propaganda material for the SDS.

During this period he continued to investigate surrealism, and in
1965 he and Penelope travelled to Paris to meet the group around
André Breton. The Paris group was impressed with the young Americans,
and the Rosemonts were inspired. Franklin returned to the US, in
Penelope's words, "boiling over with ideas and enthusiasm. He just
thought surrealism was the greatest idea, and he wasn't going to
abandon it for anything." Supported and influenced by the Paris
group, the Rosemonts formed the Chicago Surrealist Group.

The Paris group remained the senior surrealist group internationally,
and was still very much organised around Breton. In the period after
the war, Breton's political positions had become less focused. Before
the war, he had worked closely with Trotsky. In the wake of the
post-war settlement, Breton moved away from the Fourth International.
He remained deeply involved in the anti-colonial struggles, but
during the last years of his life Breton moved closer to anarchism,
which came to be the dominant political position of the surrealist
movement. A certain political disorientation in the Paris group was
compounded by the very fact of Breton's authority in the movement.
After his death in 1966 the Paris group struggled to deal with the
new situation. Jean Schuster, Breton's executor, wound up the
original group in 1969.

It is in this light that Franklin Rosemont's contribution to
surrealism becomes so important. He worked closely with Elisa, André
Breton's widow, to put together an anthology of Breton's writings in
English. This would become the collection What Is Surrealism?, which
remains invaluable. This volume alone would make Rosemont's passing
worth recording.

A man of great enthusiasm and diverse interests, Rosemont was an
ideal populariser and proselytiser. He would continue in this role
throughout his life. He and Penelope became leading figures in the
long-established radical publisher Charles H. Kerr Company. Here they
published work on American radical and political figures like Carl
Sandburg, Joe Hill, and Mother Jones. Rosemont worked with experts in
the field. With David Roediger, professor of History at the
University of Illinois, he co-edited the illustrated labour history
Haymarket Scrapbook. He produced a collection of Wobbly songs, The
Big Red Songbook, in collaboration with the eminent folklorist Archie
Green, who died last month aged 91.

The Rosemonts also established Black Swan Editions, a surrealist
imprint. Rosemont continued to work on popular anthologies, having
latterly edited a collection of Benjamin Péret's work for Charles H.
Kerr. He had also, in recent years, created and edited an important
Surrealist Histories list for the University of Texas Press.

This work may to some extent have obscured his poetry and drawing. He
published several volumes of poetry: he is a relatively minor poet,
exceeded by the work of Penelope and other figures in the Chicago
group, but Rosemont, laudably, never saw his writing about surrealism
as being separable from his practice as a surrealist. He insisted,
even as older groups were struggling, that surrealism remained a
viable revolutionary mode of poetic life. Less well-known than the
anthology of Breton's writings is its introduction, published
separately in Britain as André Breton and the First Principles of
Surrealism. In this he insisted that surrealism is not "a mere
literary or artistic school," but "an unrelenting revolt against a
civilisation that reduces all human aspirations to market values,
religious impostures, universal boredom and misery."

The newly-formed Chicago Group combined their creativity with radical
political activity, and staged a number of interesting events. The
World Surrealist Exhibition at the Gallery Bugs Bunny in Chicago in
1968 established the group's authority, and underlined Rosemont's
insistence that this was a lively movement. Even bigger was the 1976
World Exhibition, which brought together some of the leading figures
of a disparate international movement, alongside representatives of
the Phases group which had developed from surrealism. In the
introduction to the catalogue, Rosemont insisted that the
organisation of a surrealist exhibition could only be undertaken by
surrealists themselves.

The work done during this period by Franklin and Penelope Rosemont,
alongside other leading figures of the Chicago Group like Paul and
Elisabeth Garon, led to a resurgence of surrealism internationally.
Several current surrealist groups owe their existence, directly or
indirectly, to the Chicago Group. Much of the group's work was
published in Arsenal/Surrealist Subversions and has been republished
in collections.

Rosemont became friend and colleague to a diverse range of artists
and radical historians, people like Ferlinghetti, Studs Terkel, Paul
Buhle, and Leonora Carrington. He was a warm host, although perhaps
somewhat parochial about Chicago. He continued not just to give
lectures (on Joe Hill, for example), but also to issue statements on
political developments. These are of varying quality, but he remained
the same radical he had always been. Late last year he visited the
Republic Windows and Doors factory occupation.

He was, essentially, an enthusiast: coupled with his perpetual
student radicalism, this sometimes led him into regrettable mistakes.
He was long a friend of the poet Philip Lamantia. Like him, Lamantia
had moved from Beat writing to surrealism. In his later years
Lamantia, moving away from surrealism, reconverted to Catholicism.
Rosemont, perhaps because he could not understand it, adamantly
insisted that it had not happened. The incident caused considerable confusion.

At their best, his human and intellectual qualities enabled him to
make some significant contributions to artistic life. The present
surrealist movement is small and disparate, but its vigour does owe
something to the enthusiastic proselytising of Franklin Rosemont. All
English-speaking people interested in Breton's writing will also feel
some gratitude to him. His politics were not ours, but his
contribution in this sphere was a serious one.

.

Act never gets old for comic siblings

Act never gets old for comic siblings

http://www.dailygazette.com/news/2009/apr/26/0426_smothers/

Smothers Brothers still get thrill from bickering, snickering

Sunday, April 26, 2009
By Brian McElhiney
Gazette Reporter

Tom and Dick Smothers know a thing or two about going against the system.

From 1967 to 1969, the siblings' CBS variety show, "The Smothers
Brothers Comedy Hour," pushed the boundaries of political and social
satire, bringing the musical comedy duo to the forefront of the
burgeoning counterculture movement. With guests ranging from The Who
to Steve Martin to Pete Seeger, the show tackled sensitive subjects,
including the Vietnam War, to the chagrin of network censors, leading
CBS to cancel the show in April of 1969 after renewing it for the
1969-'70 season.

"Our history, we started in 1959 and went to 1969, and for 10 years
it was just phenomenal; we couldn't walk on the streets," Tom
Smothers said during a recent phone interview from his vineyard in
Sonoma, Calif., which he has operated on the side since 1970. "Then
we were fired in the 1970s, fired by CBS because we were anti-war.
They fired us, and everything kind of got gray; we were blackballed
in Las Vegas."

The Smothers Brothers have soldiered on up to the present day, doing
everything from dinner theater to TV appearances. They tour
constantly, performing roughly 80 to 90 shows a year.

This year includes a stop at the Troy Savings Bank Music Hall on
Tuesday evening.

But according to Tom Smothers, who is known as the "dumb" brother ­
his own words ­ in the group's sibling rivalry-based act, it's
getting more and more difficult for political and social satirists to
get their messages across.

"I think it's all over; I don't mean to be depressed," Smothers said.
"Every time a revolution happens, the first thing they do is take
over the radio or TV stations, sometimes even before the police
station. This country has already got only three corporations that
own everything and set the agenda, so it's kind of hard to wedge in
dissent and genuine criticism, stuff like that.

"It's gonna be a hard one. Corporations own the country, it's a
business," Smothers continued. "In real capitalism, you have the
government and free enterprise. In socialism, the government does
some stuff, but you still have free enterprise. Communism is when the
government owns all the means of production, and, in fascism,
business and enterprise own the government. We don't call it fascism
here; corporatism doesn't have that sting. But that's where we're at
­ look at what's going on."

In the face of all this, the Smothers Brothers just continue to focus
on doing the best performances they can.

"Our place as entertainers, the point is, whether you're Bono or the
Smothers Brothers, you have to be good first. Art comes first and
then you place it on, place the message, philosophy, ethics into it,"
Smothers said. "If you're not good at what you're doing as an artist,
you're just another advocate. Our legacy will be, 'They're pretty
funny guys, they had a pretty good career. They're the
longest-running comedy team, they stood up against the big guys and
spoke truth to power.'"

Not has-beens yet

This year, the Smothers Brothers are celebrating their 51st year of
performing together. And their audience has grown with them.

"If you're 45 years old or below that, there's about 10 percent
recognition," Smothers said of the age divide in the group's
audience. "Above 45, it's about 80 percent recognition. Kids say,
'What is that, a heavy metal group?' That's pretty cool though. Like,
we're not has-beens yet. Everybody is going to be a has-been, unless
they never was."

The duo's performance setup hasn't changed much over the years ­ the
brothers still take the stage in suits and ties as a folk duo,
breaking down into bickering during songs (often culminating in Tom's
famous line to Dick: "Mom always liked you best!"). Although the
brothers are still best known for their 1960s work, according to Tom
Smothers they've been constantly improving.

"We were famous before we were good, and then in the second 25 years,
we think we're doing our best work," Smothers said. "It's amazing.
We're still working, filling rooms. It's pretty cool, and we're
having a good time now."

During the 1970s, after the CBS show's cancellation, the duo found
themselves working dinner theater, eventually leading to a Broadway
musical comedy in 1977, "I Love My Wife." They resurrected the duo
act in 1980, and had to "start at the bottom," working opening slots
at disco clubs and comedy stores. These experiences are what
strengthened the group's performances, according to Smothers.

"The things we learned in the '70s in theater, we didn't know they
were going to be so important," Smothers said. "The act was better
than it had ever been. Working theater, you learn how long you can
hold a take, timing things; a lot of skills, all craft. We learned a
lot of craft and applied it to the act, not consciously, maybe unconsciously."

Brief returns to TV

The brothers made it back onto TV, albeit unsuccessfully, in 1975
with "The Smothers Brothers Show," which attempted to curb the more
controversial aspects of the original program. "The Smothers Brothers
Comedy Hour" appeared in 1988 during a Writer's Guild of America
strike, lasting for a year. The two have made numerous other
appearances in specials and movies, both together and separately,
over the years.

Today, the duo's live performances are similar to a vaudeville show,
according to Tom Smothers. Clips of the original variety show make up
a 12-minute video played in the middle of the performance. Smothers
described the show as being "like listening to screws of despair."

"The Iraq War is like the Vietnam War. We have the same kind of
problems [today]," Smothers said. "The show is a family show. We fold
songs from the Broadway show in it. We'll have a Broadway number.
It's just very eclectic. People leave with a big smile on their face."

And of course, Tom's famous Yo-Yo Man character makes appearances as well.

"The younger audiences that come that are brought by their parents.
They watched the show in the 1990s and were introduced to the Yo-Yo
Man," Smothers said. "People scream, 'Hey, the Yo-Yo Man!' And I'm
not a real good yo-yo-ist. It's got a philosophy to it. That might be of help."

According to Smothers, the sibling rivalry displayed onstage is
actually fairly close to reality. The duo has even undergone couples
counseling in the past. However, being brothers has allowed them to
stick together, outliving most other comedy teams.

"We are like yin and yang; [Dick's] by nature pretty conservative and
pragmatic ­ everything has to make sense ­ while I am unpragmatic,"
Smothers said. "Every time we see each other, we disagree about
something, so it's pretty easy to put it on stage. We don't have to
fake it. Authentic disagreement ­ I think that's why we've lasted so
long. And we sing really good; we're good singers."

.

Bob Dylan's Scottish inspiration

Caledonia homesick blues:
Bob Dylan's Scottish inspiration

http://thescotsman.scotsman.com/features/Caledonia-homesick-blues-Bob-Dylan39s.5202011.jp

24 April 2009
By Fiona MacGregor

IT'S A rather picturesque irony that Bob Dylan, a man who has always
treated the facts in his songs as fluidly as the paints with which he
also expresses himself ­ mixing and layering them indiscriminately in
pursuit of the most alluring overall imagery ­ has developed such a
band of pedantic followers.

Clinton Heylin, one of Dylan's best respected biographers, is a
principal pretender to be crowned king of such pursuers of Bob
minutiae: no aside is too irrelevant; no pencil-scribbled path too
overgrown to follow to its conclusion as a possible footnote; while
four hundred years and a geographical divide as wide as the Atlantic
ocean are merely welcome challenges in Heylin's hunt for the source
of the prolific song-writer's inspiration.

Yet, as obsessive and geeky as it might seem, all this should be
welcomed by anyone with an interest in Scottish music, because, in
his determination to get to the root of Dylan's songs, Heylin's
latest work, Revolution In The Air, does much to put in context the
links between Scots folk songs and one of the most important
characters in modern music.

The fact that Dylan has drawn inspiration from Scottish traditional
music has long been recognised. Just last year, the man himself cited
Robert Burns's My Love Is Like A Red, Red Rose as the lyric that had
most influenced his own writing, and Heylin's latest work draws on
much that has been published or written before. But in methodically
listing each song (a somewhat awe-inspiring 300 in this volume, with
a further 300 to come in the next) in chronological order, as they
were written, and detailing the inspiration behind them, the full
extent of the Scottish influence becomes clear.

It was the poet and ethnomusicologist Hamish Henderson (whose own
song The Banks of Sicily would later help provide the melody of The
Times They Are A'Changin') who "discovered" that great singer and
exponent of Scotland's song tradition, Jeannie Robertson, a member of
the travelling community in Aberdeen in the early 1950s. That more
than half a century later her influence would still be heard from the
lips of arguably the greatest songwriter of modern times would surely
have seemed unlikely at the time to Henderson.

Yet Dylan's connection to Robertson is just the sort of link that
Heylin puts in context so well: "It was probably (Robertson's)
version of (Scots ballad) Mary Hamilton he drew on for the Lonesome
Death of Hattie Carroll."

In this book he tells how in 1963 Dylan was staying with Joan Baez in
Carmel, California, surfing and biking at the time he wrote that
song, which recounts a highly sensationalised version of a story in
the news then about a death of a black barmaid at the hands of
wealthy white farmer. Although Mary Hamilton was a song Baez herself
performed, Heylin points out Dylan had spent his visit
enthusiastically working his way through his host's record collection
and it's "Robertson's deathless rendition" of the song ­ a tale of
Mary Queen of Scots' four ladies-in-waiting ­ that is likely to have
been the one that inspired Dylan.

His assertion is given further credibility by the fact that Dylan
himself stated that Lay Down Your Weary Tune, a song written during
the same visit to Baez and the next to appear Heylin's chronological
list, came about because: "I had heard a Scottish ballad on an old 78
record that I was trying to really capture the feeling of, that was
haunting me."

Heylin goes on to suggest the song in question was the 17th-century
Scottish song Waly, Waly (an older version of the now better known
Anglo-Irish song The Water Is Wide), he namechecks a whole list of
folk references here to justify this conclusion, but it is the way in
which the format of Heylin's book puts the songs in context that
enables the reader to understand how Dylan came to be so influenced
by Scottish music.

After all, unlike those vast hordes of Americans who can claim some
sort of Celtic ancestry ­ including Baez, whose mother was born in
Edinburgh (although Baez has said she was not brought up with Scots
music) ­ Dylan's heritage was resolutely Jewish.

And his first introduction to Scots balladry came down a fairly indirect route.

"As a youngster he wouldn't have had the exposure to traditional
(Scottish music]. It (his early work] covers a lot of American
transplants of English or Scottish songs. But that changed when he
visited London in December 1962. You get much more British influence
coming through," says Heylin.

"By 1963 he's 22 and starting to branch out and learn these songs.
Pretty Peggy O he almost certainly got from (Scots singer) Jean
Redpath and her version of Bonnie Lass of Fyvie O.

"That's a song he had enormous affection for and was still playing in
sets right through in to the 90s." Dylan and Redpath had shared a New
York flat for a spell in the early Sixties.

Heylin quotes Dylan at this time declaring: "From folksongs, I
learned my language… by singing them and knowing them and remembering
them… You have to use (folk music] to learn about you, and whatever
you want to do. English ballads, Scottish ballads, I see them in
images… it goes deeper than myself singing it." So "the tradition"
that Dylan has consistently identified as being so fundamental to his
work is very much one with British/Celtic origins. And while Heylin
identifies one Dylan composition, Seven Curses, which he traces back
to a Hungarian folk song, the Eastern European influence is the exception.

"He wasn't exposed to that, although he grew up in a very large
Jewish family, it doesn't feel that's a family that embraced that
part of (its] heritage." Instead, he suggests, Dylan's introduction
would have come from outside the home, through the likes of black
American folk/blues performers such as Lead Belly and Odetta.

"Not to impugn them in anyway, but they were not direct harbingers of
tradition," he adds.

Not all direct bearers of tradition were so welcoming of Dylan's
attempts to absorb and transmute the songs they sang.

"When he came to England he was very keen to meet Ewan MacColl, the
English folk musician and writer born to Scots parents (and father of
the late Kirsty MacColl]. He was pretty crushed by MacColl's reaction
to him," says Heylin. "MacColl had ravaged tradition himself, but was
somehow offended that someone else had done the same."

Heylin cites MacColl's negative response to A Hard Rain's a-Gonna
Fall, a song structured on the traditional ballad Lord Randal, a song
with strong Scottish roots, although popular in various forms across
Europe. "(Hard Rain] is not a bad song," Heylin says, pithily . "It's
based on a traditional song and makes such a clever use of
traditional imagery. It provided a template for modern music. That
(he was so negative about it] doesn't reflect well on MacColl."

Thankfully, Dylan has never been one to allow himself to be put down
for long, and his run-in with MacColl did not quash his enthusiasm
for Scottish music.

Heylin details numerous further inspirations as well as various
run-ins Dylan had with performers outraged by what they saw as
Dylan's blatant appropriation of their work. Yet to Heylin, Dylan was
simply carrying on in a tradition in which "the word originality has
no meaning ­ nor should it. That's something Dylan's always understood."

Exactly why a young Jewish American should find such spiritual
resonance in the Anglo/Celtic musical tradition is not something
Heylin explains, yet, he insists, Dylan does show "an innate ability"
to look back through time and identify the very source and original
ideas of songs dating back 400 years or more.

He cites Dylan's 1961 recording of The House Carpenter, an American
title for a ballad also known as The Daemon Lover, which can be dated
back to 16th-century Scotland, as a remarkable example of this.

"Dylan introduced (The House Carpenter] saying, 'This is a song about
a ghost come back from the sea to take his bride away from the house
carpenter,'" points out Heylin.

However, he explains, that supernatural element and interpretation of
the song had been long lost in America. "The point is that he
instinctively reached back 400 years (to the] original Scottish version.

"That's a lot of what explains why Dylan is who he is. He can get
into all these songs and see the ghosts of the original elements."

That same ballad would later reappear, albeit greatly altered form,
as the powerful and spine-tingling Man In the Long Black Coat on
Dylan's 1989 album Oh Mercy, a song which Dylan has been quoted as
considering it to be "my Walk The Line… one of the most mysterious
and revolutionary of all time".

"I only belatedly realised that was a rewrite of The Daemon Lover.
When I realised that, Jesus, the complexity of that…" says Heylin,
uncharacteristically lost for words. But while it's easy to see the
dramatic appeal of this haunting tale of a young bride wooed away to
sea only to discover her lover is taking her not to a romantic
paradise but to Hell, it was, in the end, a far gentler Scottish song
that Dylan cited as his greatest inspiration.

So of all Burns's work, why does Heylin think Dylan eschewed the
Scots poet's works of social protest, or severed romance like Ae Fond
Kiss and instead named My Love is Like A Red, Red Rose?

"It is one of Burns's most famous and could be seen as a slightly
banal choice, but I wouldn't put in into those terms," says Heylin.
Instead, he suggests Dylan chose it because it is a simple and
excellent example of traditional song. "It doesn't surprise me he
picked this at all."

Dylan's newest album Together Through Life is out on Tuesday and we
shall have to wait and see whether we can hear any echoes of
Scotland. But when he plays in Glasgow and Edinburgh the following
weekend it's a fairly safe bet some of that tradition will filter through.

"People can learn everything about me through my songs, if they know
where to look," Heylin quotes Dylan as saying at the start of
Revolution In The Air. For Scottish fans of the man who in 1997 sang
My Heart Is In the Highlands, it seems the best place to look could
be in their own country.
--

SOUNDS FAMILIAR?


The traditional Scottish ballad Lord Randal

"O where ha you been, Lord Randal, my son?

And where ha you been, my handsome young man?"

"I ha been at the greenwood; mother, mak my bed soon,

For I'm wearied wi hunting, and fain wad lie down."

"An wha met ye there, Lord Randal, my son?

And wha met ye there, my handsome young man?"

"O I met wi my true-love; mother, mak my bed soon,

"For I'm wearied wi huntin, and fain wad lie down."


A Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall by Bob Dylan

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?

Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?

I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains,

I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways,

I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests,

I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans,

I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard,

And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard,

And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

• Although Lord Randal may begin innocently enough, the song goes on
to describe how his true love poisoned him, his hawk and his hound
have died and he's about to follow suit and finishes with him
condemning his beloved to "fire and hell" ­ images of poison, death
and destruction which are echoed in Dylan's song as well as the
structure of the original ballad.

.

Tamalpais Walking

'Tamalpais Walking'

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2009/04/24/RV5L175M4D.DTL

Jonah Raskin, Special to The Chronicle
Sunday, April 26, 2009

Tamalpais Walking
Poetry, History, and Prints
By Tom Killion and Gary Snyder
(Heyday Books; 143 pages; $50)

By the time Tom Killion was born in Marin County in 1953, Mount
Tamalpais had already been explored, mapped and painted by
Californians for nearly a century. Fortunately, that weight of
tradition didn't deter him from his dreams.

A convert to the mountain's beauty, he learned to make Japanese-style
wood block and linocut prints. With Tamalpais as his muse, and the
locus for his imagination, he turned the mountain into art, and, over
the past three decades, his art has brought him national acclaim. His
elegant, sometimes whimsical prints - reproduced in "Tamalpais
Walking" - show that if an artist reveres a landscape that has been
rendered again and again he can reinvent it and express something new
and spectacular.

It helps to have a guide. Though he's old enough to be Killion's
father, Gary Snyder became a friend and a kind of older brother who
showed him the way. In 2002, they collaborated on "The High Sierra of
California," which pays homage in word and image to the glorious
peaks of the Golden State's magnificent mountains. "Tamalpais
Walking" - the latest product of their creative collaboration - is a
joy to hold and behold. With real verve, Killion describes the
geology and history of the mountain that was once home to the Miwok
Indians. To Killion's mix of art, lore and legend, Snyder adds his
electrifying personal experiences and his Tamalpais-inspired poetry.

Killion wisely separates facts about the indigenous Miwok from
fictions that settlers manufactured to forge a mythical California.
Later, poets such as Ina Coolbrith, the first California poet
laureate, and Kenneth Rexroth, the Bay Area's longtime literary
force, turned the mountain into a powerful symbol for the wild, even
as the wild was tamed. Killion traces Tamalpais' economic history:
logging redwoods to build San Francisco; the coming of the railroad,
the car, paved roads and pollution that nearly destroyed Tamalpais in
the 1960s, just as Killion, while still a boy, discovered its trails.
When Grace Slick and Jim Morrison gave an outdoor concert on its
slopes in 1967, it was clear that Tamalpais had been trashed by some
of the very people who claimed to cherish it.

Snyder deserves much of the credit for reversing that trend, and for
the environmental movement to preserve the mountain, not only through
his poetry, but also through his activism. In "Tamalpais Walking," he
reveals his intimate connection to the slopes and the peaks of the
mountain, and shows how profoundly the landscape has shaped him ever
since 1948, when he first walked its trails.

Snyder and Killion both know Tamalpais' rich history and eccentric
characters, such as the 19th century German immigrants who once hiked
the Alps, and wanted a California mountain to climb. In the 1880s,
walking the mountain, as Killion shows, became a way of life for San
Franciscans, rich and poor, immigrants and native-born, though hiking
fell out of favor for a time.

The Beats helped rediscover Tamalpais - a story told here splendidly.
In 1955, Snyder led Jack Kerouac to the peak of Tamalpais; in 1965
he, Allen Ginsberg and Lew Welch circumnavigated the mountain
clockwise, stopping to meditate in the Buddhist way. Snyder has
continued his circumnavigations and his spiritual love affair, and in
"Tamalpais Walking," he offers his wisdom about mountains, walking
and life itself. "If you look, you'll find a way," he writes.
"Gratitude to the particular is never in vain." Walking, he adds, is
about mobility, independence and choice.

Killion's radiant posters and Snyder's sturdy poems go hand-in-hand.
If their book doesn't persuade one-and-all to walk Tamalpais, smell
its manzanita, chaparral and ceanothus, it's probably the authors'
own fault. Reading Snyder words, and looking at Killion's prints
feels like a journey into the majesty of the magic mountain itself.
--

Jonah Raskin is the author of "Field Days: A Year of Farming, Eating,
and Drinking Wine in California," to be published in May by
University of California Press.

.

Super Joel Tornabene, People's Park, and Berkeley in the Early 70s

Super Joel Tornabene, People's Park, and Berkeley in the Early 70s.

http://fatbillandme.blogspot.com/2009/04/protest-photos-super-joel-or-hibiscus.html

April 18, 2009

[See URL]

.

Chasing the ghost of Allen Ginsberg

When Politics Disappoints, the Young Turn to Allen Ginsberg

http://www.alternet.org/story/138107/when_politics_disappoints,_the_young_turn_to_allen_ginsberg/

By Marlene Nadle
April 25, 2009.

Many young people are again seeking Ginsberg and his exuberant purity.
--

Chasing the ghost of Allen Ginsberg takes a lot more energy than
following his mentor Walt Whitman. Whitman just loafed and leaned
observing life. Ginsberg danced and chanted his way around the world.

His bass voice in full throb, his brass finger cymbals always handy,
he rushed in front of the Peace Eye Bookstore to calm East Village
toughs. He intoned besides the grave of Senator Joe McCarthy to
sweeten the karma.

Posthumously, he became a kinetic talisman for those seeking someone
to believe in. He embodied and previewed the yearning Obama rode to
the White House. Now, when the man from Illinois disappoints, many of
the young are again seeking Ginsberg and his exuberant purity.

His spirit was invoked in the Bowery Poetry Cub, a scruffy,
card-table-chair space in New York. Matvei Yankelevich, a poet in his
twenties who looked half East European, half Midwestern and whose
hair stood up and lay down in unusual places, was about to read
"Howl" in Russian. He ruffled the loose pages of Cyrillic splayed on
a music stand, the verses that Ginsberg endlessly revised in his
Berkeley apartment during the fall of 1955. The dim light glinting
off his glasses, with only the slightest accent and awkwardness, he
said, "I will not begin with the first section of "Howl. It's very
familiar to you." He was right. The first line, "I saw the best minds
of my generation destroyed by madness," became part of America when
"Howl " was discovered in small towns across the country. Then, as
now it spoke to those tired of compromises, stifled by the blandness,
conformity, war mentality and sense of threat, the corporate culture
that made Ginsberg pity those "who were burned alive in innocent
flannel suits."

Ed Sanders, the former owner of the Peace Eye Bookstore and the
mimeograph machine that fueled much of the sixties cultural
revolution, said the poem changed his life. In his Missouri shop
class, he wood-burned the first line into a spice rack, woke his
parents to read it to them, and, when they couldn't take it anymore,
shouted the verses to the cows.

The audience at the Bowery was more attentive as Yankelevich began
reciting. His slight frame swelled and deflated with the rhythm of
the long lines, the cadences of compassion for the crazed Carl
Solomon locked away in Rockland, the name Rockland repeating like an
indictment through the Russian syllables spilled before the navy backdrop.

When he eased off the stage, he joined some converts to the frail
remnants of the counter culture. Gesturing towards his friends, , he
said, "They have a certain nostalgia for Ginsberg." Then with an edge
of impatience at their limitations added, "Nostalgia is a lazy
emotion. It is not enough." He was channeling the poet. Ginsberg
always criticized the hippies because, after their LSD trips, they
didn't take care of the thousand details needed to change the world.
He always took care of the details. In his E.10th Street tenement,
beneath a tapestry of a fire-spitting dragon, he sat barefoot on a
pallet surrounded by a phone, Rolodex, press releases, and the latest
people bringing their cause to Utopia Central. His operating style
was an equal blend of the formidable marketing skills he picked up as
an advertising man selling Welch's grape juice and a Buddhist vision
of a joyous, humane, peaceful universe.

Now, some from Yankelevich's generation, searching for traces of the
poet's radiant ideals, for the authenticity and candor so rarely
found in the world they knew, or expect in Obama's Washington, are
knocking at the door of the Ginsberg Trust.. In a corner of what was
the poet's last New York apartment, Bob Rosenthal, the plump,
good-natured man who was his assistant for 20 years, often comforted
those feeling the past decade has been too hollow, too hard. "You
know," he explained, sagging in his chair besides a desk that was a
chaos of books,"people keep asking me, 'What would Allen do now? What
would Allen say now?" He sends them back to the writing for answers.
"I think the truth of the poems hold up. Amiri Baraka did a reading
of "Howl" last year substituting the name of Bush for Moloch. It read
beautifully," he assured as the phrases floating on the air became, "
Bush whose eyes are a thousand blind windows...Bush who has
frightened me out of my natural ecstasy."

The doorbell kept ringing and bringing more seekers. Rosenthal
welcomed them with a rapid, easy flow of words like a spigot that
could go on forever, chuckling over memories and unwilling to let go.
He mentioned the film independents are making about "Howl." Gave an
impromptu tour past the place where Ginsberg's small oak organ had
been. Pulled out photos of the poet in Prague wearing the paper crown
of the King of May and being driven through the streets in a
rose-covered chariot.

Looking at the pictures he said softly, " That public role cost him.
" He paused and in the pause was the weight of all the needs people
put on Ginsberg during his life, during the Bush presidency, and now
when Obama seems all cautious calculation.

In the past, Bill Talen was one of many who had written the poet for
guidance and gotten back a letter full of personal and political
advice. As an overreaching, 20-year-old wanting to be Ginsberg, he
had taken to the stage of an East Village church to recite "Howl"
from memory and do an interpretive dance. Still probably wanting to
be Ginsberg, he continues to grab the stage at St. Mark's as
performance artist Reverend Billy. One evening he was busy converting
"Howl's line, "Moloch whose blood is running money," into the Church
Of Stop Shopping. With a gospel choir behind him, wearing white
minister's vestments, blond hair pomaded into perfect immobility,
hands raised to heaven warning of the coming shop-apocalypse, he
strutted to the beat of the singers rocking the room with the poet's
credo-"I'm telling you my imagination is not for sale. Not for sale."
The male lead boomed it as the clapping mounted and the choir echoed
back, "I'm burning with the justice ghost." Reverend Billy kept
shouting, "Give me justice children," and, like Ginsberg, kept trying
to make America more than just getting and spending.

Others turning the poet into their ghostly exemplar can find his
needed spirit in many of the blocks surrounding of St. Mark's. He can
still be seen as a beaming red ,white, and blue mystic wearing an
Uncle Sam's hat in a mural on Avenue C. He can be found in
neighborhood memories of him having breakfasts of toast and coca cola
or trying to convince the anarchists not to call the yuppies "scum."
He is most present in Thompkins Square Park where the tree planted
for him stands all light-shimmer, and, in a rush of wind, dancing.

.

Union delegates reaffirm support for SF8

Union delegates reaffirm support for SF8

http://www.workers.org/2009/us/sf8_0430/

By Judy Greenspan
San Francisco
Published Apr 26, 2009

Delegates to the San Francisco Labor Council on April 13, by a vote
of 45 to 40, defeated a right-wing attempt to revoke a previously
passed resolution that demanded justice for the San Francisco 8.

The San Francisco 8 are a group of former Black Panther Party
members, now community organizers or political prisoners, who were
charged more than 35 years after the fact with killing a San
Francisco policeman. Similar charges against three former Black
Panther Party members, including current defendant Harold Taylor, had
been dismissed in 1975 after a judge concluded they had been tortured
by police in New Orleans. The statements from this torture were used
to fabricate the murder charges in the current case.

The San Francisco Labor Council is well-known for its willingness to
support progressive issues. Over the past several years, the Labor
Council has passed resolutions supporting May Day immigrant rights
protests and demonstrations against the U.S. war on Iraq. The Labor
Council has also demanded a moratorium on foreclosures and evictions.

On Feb. 9, the Labor Council had passed a resolution demanding that
the charges be dropped against the San Francisco 8, reflecting a
broad sentiment in the San Francisco Bay area.

However, as a result of heavy pressure and a public attack on the
resolution by the San Francisco Police Officers Association­not a
member of the Labor Council­five members of the executive committee
called for the resolution to be rescinded. The resolution was also
pulled from the Labor Council Web site.

A group of progressive unionists and community supporters immediately
began organizing to support the resolution and defeat the move to
revoke. A statement issued by an ad hoc group of union delegates
read: "The Labor Council has a proud history of standing up for
social justice in the face of controversy and intimidation. This is
not the time to take a step backwards."

These trade unionists, hailing from many Bay Area locals, organized a
large delegation to attend the April 13 Labor Council and fight
against the motion to rescind the democratic vote.

Statements were issued by many organizations and individuals,
including Fred Hirsch, a member of the executive committee of
Plumbers and Fitters Local 393. Hirsch witnessed demonstrators,
including children, being attacked by the San Francisco police on
March 21, during the last major mobilization against the war in Iraq.
He called upon the Labor Council to be as courageous and principled
as the young children were on March 21.

Fortunately, the right-wing attempt to revoke the resolution
supporting the San Francisco 8 was defeated by the union delegates.

.

Forum on Guevara just part of U.S. rebranding

Forum on Guevara just part of U.S. rebranding

http://www.miamiherald.com/news/americas/story/1016809.html

A U.S.-sponsored discussion of the branding of Ernesto ''Che''
Guevara signaled a new approach to Latin America.

04.25.09
BY VINOD SREEHARSHA
Special to The Miami Herald

BUENOS AIRES -- The U.S. charm offensive in Latin America took a
small but provocative step forward on Friday when the U.S. Embassy in
Buenos Aires sponsored two readings of a new book that explains the
enduring iconic power of Ernesto ''Che'' Guevara.

U.S. taxpayers funded the discussion at the Buenos Aires 35th
International Book Fair of the Argentine revolutionary who dedicated
his life to armed struggle against capitalism and imperialism. For
one day at least, photos of Guevara shared space with the Stars and
Stripes. Dozens attended, including local grade school students.

Mara Tekach, the embassy spokeswoman, said that the United States was
simply promoting free expression.

Che's Afterlife: The Legacy of an Image, by journalist Michael Casey,
is one of the first books on a rarely discussed aspect of Guevara --
his branding and why it has endured for more than four decades.

The embassy's decision comes at a time when President Barack Obama is
trying to refashion how Latin Americans perceive the United States.
Easing restrictions on visits to Cuba and his handshake with
Venezuelan President Hugo Chávez at last weekend's Summit of the
Americas had enormous symbolic value in the region.

Branding is fundamental in Latin American politics. Leaders regularly
invoke icons, such as Guevara, to boost their popularity.

Che's Afterlife provides a detailed account of the ''product launch''
of the Guevara brand, with Cuba's Fidel Castro serving as ''brand
manager.'' In doing so, it offers lessons for Obama on how to rebrand
the United States in Latin America.

The book examines Alberto Korda's shooting and cropping of the iconic
1960 photograph -- Guevara in Havana with his trademark beret and
piercing eyes -- as well as how the image lay dormant for several
years until Castro started disseminating it.

Casey describes Castro's role in hosting the Salon de Mayo artists'
festival in Havana in May 1967 that drew top European artists. The
Korda image quickly spread throughout Europe in just months.

Guevara was assassinated in Bolivia in 1967, but the quick popularity
of the photo allowed an image of a healthy and vibrant Guevara to
enter the public consciousness before news spread about his
disastrous last two years.

Casey writes that ``capitalism has made Che what he is today: a
brand, used for both commercial and political purposes.''

At the same time, Casey argues that hard-line conservatives in
Washington and Miami, many of whom were critical of Obama's moves
last week, have played a key role in the growth of the Guevara brand
over the last eight years. They have played the willing foil that
leaders like Chávez have skillfully exploited, he said.

Casey told The Miami Herald that they ``are a mirror image of the
exact same thing that has equally driven the Latin American left's
passion for years.''

He added, ``They sound a lot like Che.''

Casey contends that Obama's new approach and emphasis on ''soft
power'' can make a difference in how the United States is perceived
in the region.

.

The 60s: Assassinations, a School Shooting, and Nazi Gun Control

[See URL for embedded links].

The 60s: Assassinations, a School Shooting, and Nazi Gun Control

http://www.lewrockwell.com/gaddy/gaddy56.html

by Michael Gaddy
April 27, 2009

The 60s were a tumultuous time in America. There were the Vietnam War
and its subsequent peace movement; the Kennedy assassinations; the
Martin Luther King assassination, and the mass shooting at the
University of Texas by Charles Whitman. The high-profile
assassinations and the mass shooting prompted the government to lobby
for stronger gun control, leading to the passage of the
unconstitutional, NRA supported, 1968 Gun Control Act.

With the exception of the Vietnam War and its protest activity, all
of the above events played into the hands of the state and its
never-ending efforts to disarm private citizens. While the only
common denominator in the University of Texas shooting involved the
use of mind altering drugs by the shooter, the three assassinations
were similar in accusations of Central Intelligence Agency (CIA)
involvement was alleged in each of them.

It was reported that President Lyndon Johnson was moved by the
University shooting to move for stronger gun control; the facts of
the case supported just the opposite. After Whitman killed his mother
and wife by stabbing them to death, he went to the University Tower
where his next victim, Edna Townsley, a receptionist, was
butt-stroked with a rifle, which led to her death. Whitman had in
essence killed three people before he pulled the trigger the first time.

When victims began to fall from shots fired by Whitman from the
University Tower, several civilians secured weapons from their cars
and began to return fire at Whitman along with police on the scene.
The combined efforts of these civilians and the police forced Whitman
to shoot from waterspouts, greatly limiting his ability to acquire
additional targets. Had it not been for the deployment of private
arms by civilians, the toll of lives lost and those wounded would
have been much larger. Yet, the state used this tragedy to move for
more draconian firearms possession limitations on private citizens.

Conspiracy theories abound concerning the assassinations of president
John F. Kennedy, Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King. As mentioned
above, the CIA is mentioned as possibly being involved in all three.
We do know the CIA lied about aspects of the JFK assassination. Lies
are usually told to hide the truth; what truth was the CIA covering
up for 40 years, and why? Why did the CIA withhold evidence from the
Warren Commission and defy court orders?

Did the CIA use their "controlled" sources in the media to demonize
and ridicule any who found irregularities in the "Pablum" force-fed
to the masses concerning the assassination? An April 1st 1967, CIA
dispatch, declassified through the Freedom Of Information Act (FOIA)
in 1976, advised the CIA's "assets" in the media on "Countering
criticism of the Warren Report." These "assets" were instructed
features and book revues to be "particularly appropriate" for this
purpose. These controlled media sources were to "answer and refute"
those critical of the state's explanation of events by claiming
"financial interests" and to allege they were "hasty and inaccurate
in their research" and "infatuated with their own theories." These
CIA stooges in the media were instructed to emphasize in their
reporting, "no new significant evidence has emerged," and there was
no consistency of thought among the critics. Critics were to be
discredited by claiming they were "wedded to theories before all the
evidence was in." Also used was the claim consistently heard about
all possible conspiracies involving the state: "Conspiracy on such a
large scale would be impossible to conceal."

The FBI, Secret Service, and the Dallas Police Department withheld
evidence from the Warren Commission. As the commission had no
investigators of its own, and depended entirely on the
above-mentioned agencies for evidence, the credibility of the report
must be questioned.

If questioning the veracity of the state's official report on the JFK
assassination and the withholding and suppression of evidence by
those tasked with pursuing the truth makes me a "conspiracy nut,"
pass the tinfoil.

Credible allegations of CIA involvement in the Robert Kennedy
assassination can be found here. Please note CIA Agent George
Joannides's alleged involvement in both the Kennedy's assassinations.

Allegations of CIA and other state agency's involvement in the
assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. have been made by aides and
members of the King family. Coretta Scott King said, "There is
abundant evidence of a major high level conspiracy in the
assassination of my husband…" Dexter King, son of Martin Luther King
Jr., who met with James Earl Ray before his death and stated he
believed Ray did not kill his father, also stated his father was
assassinated "because he challenged the establishment." Dexter King
also referred to the official investigation and findings as "the most
incredible cover-up of the century."

Martin Luther King Jr. had been under surveillance by the FBI, CIA
and Army Intelligence for an extended period of time before his
assassination because he supposedly represented a threat to national
security. His phones were tapped, he was under continual
surveillance, his rooms were bugged and his followers infiltrated.
Yet, he was assassinated in plain sight and none of the above
agencies had a clue as to the plans or movements of the assassin.

The FBI was assigned the task of investigating the assassination of
the man they considered a threat to national security and a subject
of their "dirty tricks" associated with COINTEL-PRO activities.

Author Alex Constantine, in his work, Virtual Government: CIA Mind
Control Operations in America, has exhaustively documented the CIA's
influence in the media through Operation Mockingbird. When a
government agency has the ability to control the content of
information disseminated to the masses, is that not a form of mind control?

The state used all of the above highly questionable events to propose
and pass the 1968 Gun Control Act. The wording of this piece of
legislation was taken almost word for word from the 1938 Nazi Gun
Control Act. The 1968 GCA is not the state's only connection with
Nazi programs. How many are familiar with the CIA's connection with
Nazi war criminals?

Let me see now; The 1968 Gun Control Act is a re-do of the 1938 Nazi
Gun Control Act; The CIA had a Nazi war criminal connection from its
very inception; The CIA is alleged to have involvement in several
high-profile assassinations in America; The CIA uses its rented mules
(Operation Mockingbird) in the mainstream media (MSM) to demonize and
marginalize anyone who seeks to investigate the irregularities in the
state-issued reports of these assassinations and other possible
covert actions; Our form of government has morphed from a republic to
in-your-face fascism, and anyone who believes there is a connection
between the state and mass shootings is a conspiracy nut!

When the only alternative Boobus utilizes in his search for truth is
text messaging, a six-pack and American Idol, what chance is there he
would even recognize the truth, or for that matter, even care?
--

Michael Gaddy, an Army veteran of Vietnam, Grenada, and Beirut, lives
in the Four Corners area of the American Southwest..

.

In Community Studies, life begins at 40

In Community Studies, life begins at 40

http://www.santacruzsentinel.com/opinion/ci_12230490

04/26/2009
Mary Beth Pudup

Among the events at UC Santa Cruz's Reunion Weekend is a celebration
marking the 40th anniversary of the Community Studies Department.
Alumni will gather to reflect on how Community Studies has shaped
their lives. Together we'll also discuss the endangered future of the
Community Studies Department that has been in the news lately.

When it was founded in 1969, Community Studies organized its
curriculum around the principle that knowledge resided in, and could
be gained from, the world outside the classroom and campus -- in the community.

At the time, experiential education was radically new. What is
striking today is how far higher education has moved in our direction
with proliferating internship programs, community service
requirements, service-learning opportunities and calls for greater
civic engagement among college students.

The centerpiece of Community Studies is a guided, six-month full-time
field study with a community organization in a less privileged sector
of society. About a third of students complete field studies in Santa
Cruz, another third elsewhere in California and the rest have worked
in 43 nations on five other continents.

Students prepare for field study with relevant topical and
theoretical courses, e.g., health courses for a health-related field
study, and study participatory research methods and ethics. After
field study, students reflect upon and analyze their experience and
complete senior projects.

What sets this guided field study apart from most internship programs
is its firm footing in an academic core curriculum combining topical
knowledge and theoretical analysis with participatory research about
social problems.

It takes considerable intellectual agility, not to mention maturity
beyond their years, for undergraduates to pull this off. We faculty
are continually amazed by the students though not surprised, truth be
told. Each year's graduation ceremony bears witness to the power of
community-based experiential education.

Faculty often wonder what kind of difference they make in students'
lives. A few years ago we conducted an alumni survey to explore this
question about the Community Studies major.

The responses astounded, beginning with the fact that 42 percent of
alumni responded many at great length!. More significant were the
lives of public purpose Community Studies alumni are leading. They
are lawyers, doctors, nurses, artists, business owners and elected
officials. A large number are K-12 through college educators, many
work in the labor movement, and some are media professionals.

All kinds of alumni are found in these occupations, of course. But
Community Studies alumni have carved out a special niche in
contemporary civil society as nonprofit sector innovators and
leaders. Almost 100 alumni have founded nonprofit organizations and
many more have served on boards of directors and in executive
positions. An overwhelming majority were regular participants in
voluntary sector organizations. Alumni consistently reported the
Community Studies major, and particularly the field study, as the
galvanizing experience in choosing their life's work.

The 40th anniversary is an exciting moment to look back, but we are
mindful that the future is uncertain. The recently announced plan to
remove the administrative structure of Community Studies, ostensibly
for budgetary reasons, would undermine the department's ability to
function. Community Studies faculty and staff understand the depth of
the current budget crisis and want to help find an alternative.

We are shocked and dismayed that UCSC plans to disinvest in Community
Studies just as other universities are creating similar academic
programs. The mandate of UC Berkeley's recently launched "Global
Poverty and Practice" program is indistinguishable from ours: "real
world" practice coupled with training in theoretical and ethical
debates around poverty, inequality and development.

Community Studies has a venerable history that we celebrate this
weekend with the firm conviction that life begins at 40.
--

Mary Beth Pudup is an associate professor of Community Studies at UC
Santa Cruz.

.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Forever Young: Bob Dylan’s book for Jonah

Forever Young: Bob Dylan's book for Jonah

http://www.popmatters.com/pm/post/72944-forever-young-bob-dylans-book-for-jonah/

Kirby Fields shys away from adding celeb-authored books to his brand
new baby's library. Until he spies "Dylan" on one very important
kid-lit spine.

24 April 200
by Kirby Fields

Jonah was born on 2 September 2008. He is our first child. The
riches of parenthood are too profound and numerous to discuss here,
but one of the more noteworthy pleasures insofar as PopMatters'
audience is concerned is that he has introduced to me a world of
books that had heretofore been a mystery. We have three ceiling-tall
bookshelves that are double stacked and topped off sideways, so it is
no surprise that his own modest shelf is already overflowing with
books. (A stipulation that attendees of our baby shower had to bring
a book for the pending boy certainly helped jump start his library.)

A genre isn't legitimate until one can separate its good
representatives from its bad, and it didn't take me long to realize
that "Children's Literature" is for real. You know the bad when you
see it­overly sentimental, overly cute, overly opportunistic­and
there's no point in me calling them out by name as we all have a
different idea about what qualifies.

The good examples are less subjective. My own bent leans toward
contemporary American fiction, but, if pressed, I would probably name
Charles Dickens as my favorite novelist, so it's no great shock that
I am drawn to the strong narratives of the classics. The fairy-tale
structure and the simplicity of both goal and message in Watty
Piper's The Little Engine That Could continues to delight; the subtle
social commentary of Corduroy caught me pleasantly unawares; and my
wife Leu and I healthily disagree about the meaning of Shel
Silverstein's The Giving Tree, with me contending that it's about
parenthood and her insisting that it's about the abuse of resources
(for his part, Jonah just really, really wants the corner of the book
in his mouth).

There are, of course, an untold number of exemplary contemporary
children's books, too. The work of Todd Parr has quickly become a
favorite, with his colorful illustrations and progressive worldview.
Mo Willems' Pigeon series cracks us up more than it does Jonah, and
with crayon drawings to boot! And Sam McBratney's Guess How Much I
Love You is damn near the sweetest thing you will ever read in your
whole entire life.

And then there are the celebrity authors. Before Jonah was even born,
I had hoped that a special circle of hell was reserved for these
people who thought that, just because they're famous, they are
qualified to write a book. (I found it even more condescending that
they conceivably thought "it's just a children's books", as if
anybody can write a children's book.) Here's a list of some of the
celebrity children's book authors that appear on Barnes & Noble's Web
site, the top of which announces "Books by famous folks!": Lynne
Cheney, Jeff Foxworthy, Jamie Lee Curtis, Caroline Kennedy, John
Lithgow, Brooke Shields, Whoopi Goldberg, Jenna Bush, Emeril Lagasse,
Helen Thomas, Dionne Warwick, and two books by Tiki Barber. To say
nothing of Billy Crystal, Madonna, Jerry Seinfeld, Will Smith, Ally
Sheedy, Deborah Norville, Jimmy Buffet, Fred Gwynne, Leann Rimes, and
Katie Couric. There's even a Web site that's called "How to Publish a
Children's Book if You're Not a Celebrity".

In fairness, I've not read any of these, and something like Maria
Shriver's What's Happening to Grandpa?, which addresses a family
dealing with Alzheimer's disease, does sound like it has merit beyond
the notoriety of its author. But, for the most part, I steer clear of
the endcaps that feature books with the author's name printed in
larger font than the title.

So you can imagine my reaction when I was browsing through the
shelves and saw "Dylan" on one of the spines. The title, Forever
Young, suggested that it was Bob. Sure enough, it was.


Now, I have written on this very site about what Dylan means to me. I
have stood by him when he did commercials for Victoria Secret (and
another during this year's Super Bowl with Wyclef Jean for I don't
remember what). I have vouched for his 1987 movie Hearts of Fire. I
have even defended Under the Red Sky as being, quote, not that bad,
unquote. But, given my attitude toward celebrity children's books
authors, I was in a quandary. Was this just another money maker
written by one of his handlers, designed to capitalize on our
nostalgia for all things 1960s? Or, worse yet, was it a book that
advocated for some kind of ­ gulp­moral? I picked it up and saw that
the first page included only a cartoon drawing of Dylan circa 1966
with a placard reading "Dig yourself". On the second page, a boy on a
stoop watched a folk singer play the guitar. The folk singer's guitar
case featured a sticker that said "This machine kills fascists". I
read no more. The book was mine.

Forever Young functions on two levels. Textually, the book is nothing
more than the lyrics to Dylan's classic song from the 1974 album
Planet Waves. From "May God bless and keep you always" through to the
song's final repetition, it's all here. But visually, Paul Rogers'
illustrations tell the story of a boy who is given a guitar by his
idol and who then grows up to become a leader and an idol himself.
SPOILER ALERT: In the end, the boy, now all growed up, passes the
guitar on. La ronde, and all that. At times the words and the images
work together­"May you always be courageous, / Stand upright and be
strong" is accompanied by a booth in Washington Square where people
are invited to "Save the Planet"­but, for the most part, the words do
their thing and the pictures do another.

It's a great book for kids because it's about a kid who succeeds by
following his dreams. But it's an even better book for
adults­especially adults in the know­because Rogers is a
Dylan-ologist, who has, to paraphrase Joyce, put so many Dylan
references in there that it'll keep the Dylan fan busy for centuries
(or at least an hour).

The man who passes on the guitar is, of course, Woody Guthrie, and
the boy on the stoop is Dylan's proxy. The book is set during the
early 1960s and takes place in New York City's hotspots of the time:
Gerde's Folk City, the aforementioned Washington Square Park, and
various other locales around the Village. But, most irresistible of
all, other references to Dylan's songs are scattered throughout. One
of the book's joys is discovering them for yourself, so I'll say only
that the boy wears a shirt with a "61" emblazoned on the back, and
the kids wait on the corner of "Positively 4th Street" for the bus
that will take them to "The Finest School Alright". The decorations
in the boy's room are a veritable Who's Who of influences (my only
qualm is that the top right-hand corner of the shelf seems to include
the book that accompanied Ken Burns' baseball documentary, which
would be an unfortunate anachronism, but you get the idea). For the
uninitiated, the back of the book includes two pages of
"Illustrator's Notes", where even the hippest cats can learn where
Dave Van Ronk, DA Pennebaker, and Edie Sedgwick appear.

Obviously, Jonah is oblivious to all of this. All he knows is that,
when I bust out a book, it's time to lie on the bed with Daddy, and
when Daddy has this book in hand, chances are he's going to sing more
than read. I would like someday to take Jonah to a Dylan concert. I
don't want to be one of those dads that trades being a parent for
being cool, but the idea of sharing one of my favorite things with
another appeals to me on a level that I'm not sure I even fully
understand yet. I've randomly chosen five as the age that Jonah needs
to be before we do this. Dylan will be in his early 70s by then, but
at the rate he's going, it's not impossible. Until then, in the
absence of a full set, at least we have this song.

.

Revolution in the Air: The Songs of Bob Dylan, 1957-1973

Revolution in the Air: The Songs of Bob Dylan, 1957-1973

http://www.popmatters.com/pm/review/72977-revolution-in-the-air-by-clinton-heylin/

Revolution in the Air: The Songs of Bob Dylan, 1957-1973
by Clinton Heylin
Chicago Review Press
April 2009, 496 pages, $29.95

by Alan Ashton-Smith
23 April 2009

Having written a biography of Bob Dylan and a catalogue of his
recording sessions, Clinton Heylin returns to the songwriter with his
discovery that between 1957 and 2006, Dylan wrote an astonishing 600
songs. These can be neatly divided into two volumes, analysing 300
apiece, and Revolution in the Air is the first of these, spanning
from his first ever song, written in 1957 about Brigitte Bardot, up
to 1973's "Wedding Song".

The book is as comprehensive as its premise demands and obviously
written very lovingly. If Dylanology is thought of as a recognised
academic discipline rather than a hobby that enthusiasts sometimes
write about, then Heylin is certainly good at it. However, this is
not enough to save Revolution in the Air from its major flaws. The
most intrusive of these is Heylin's style: he is as condescending as
hell. Take this extract from his introduction:

" Having already written extensively (exhaustively?) about the author
of this inestimable body of song ­ though not for the past decade ­ I
have returned to find the world of Dylan experts, would-be academics,
and online know-it-alls in a greater stew than in the days when the
internet had yet to compound every crackpot theory, crank story, or
distorted fact into an endemic diaspora of misinformation.' "

Clearly, he trusts no one's scholarship but his own, and not only
does he feel the need to make us aware of this, he also has to
criticise the sources he has come across in his research for their
apparent inadequacy.

Later, he wonders 'why no one had yet tackled the songs in a
systematic way when the likes of XTC and the Clash [!] had both been
the subject of such studies?' His point is a fair one; less
reasonable is the exclamation point which he feels compelled to
insert, tucked into a pair of square brackets, as though he's letting
us in on the secret snort of derision he's delivering into his cupped
hand. If 'the songs' are to be the main focus of this text than why
must Heylin childishly use a technique such as this to assert Dylan's
superiority over any other artist?

The other big problem is that it's hard to figure out what the book
is really for. It might be an essential piece of literature for the
shelves of serious Dylan devotees, but it's still hard to imagine
even the most ardent fan reading it from cover to
cover. Essentially, it's a reference book, and it's written like
one. There's nothing wrong with that, but the circumstances in which
one would want to look up the origins of a specific Dylan song seem
rather few.

It does possess, up to a point, the feature of the best reference
books ­ once you've looked up one entry you get a yen to read a few
more that catch your interest. But read too many in one sitting, and
the book becomes very tiresome.

There is some interesting biographical detail, perhaps information
that the average biography would neglect to mention, but this is
counterbalanced by some astonishing geekery, factoids that would
surely send most Dylanologists to sleep. Dylan has an appeal that
has lasted for decades; he has captured several generations, but at
times Heylin almost makes him uncool. The meticulous, scholarly
approach that he seems so confident in is not without its flaws
either: the title, for example, is taken from "Tangled Up in Blue" ­
a song that doesn't even fall under the time period covered by this volume.

In the introduction, Heylin discusses his motivation for writing the
book, and the planning process: 'Maybe it wouldn't be the greatest
story ever told, but it would provide the evidence necessary to blow
away any other claimant to the singer-songwriters' crown of thorns.'
Now, surely whatever the nature of the book, anything that has a more
linear narrative than Webster's Collegiate Dictionary should attempt
to tell a good tale? Heylin is absolutely right in saying that this
is not a great story; unfortunately its secondary function,
supporting Dylan's claim as our foremost songwriter, is redundant ­
no evidence is required at all for that.

Some of the stories behind the songs are interesting in themselves:
we are informed that the next volume, Still on the Road, will begin
with 'Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts'. I bet the story behind
that one will be particularly fascinating, but I still think Heylin's
forthcoming book will be another one to avoid.

.

The Tamal bums

The Tamal bums

http://www.pacificsun.com/story.php?story_id=3046

Gary Snyder and Tom Killion have carved out an ode to our 'legendary'
Sleeping Maiden...

by Steve Heilig
April 24, 2009

From almost anywhere you might be in Marin, look up and there it
is­Mount Tamalpais. Although only 2,574 feet high at its summit, a
mere bump by alpine standards, it is Marin's Mount Everest,
dominating the county and the skyline from many other viewpoints as
well. It provides much of Marin's water, influences our climate and
is a source of recreation and inspiration for people from around the world.

Much has been written about Mt. Tam and countless photographs taken
and published featuring its image. However, what may prove to be the
ultimate book about Mt. Tam has just appeared­and it does not feature
a single photograph of its subject.

Tamalpais Walking: Poetry, History, and Prints, published by
visionary Berkeley publisher Heyday Books, is a labor of love by West
Marin artist Tom Killion and renowned poet and writer Gary Snyder.
The large and gorgeous coffee-table book should claim a prominent
spot not only in local living rooms but on bookshelves, classrooms,
under holiday trees and anywhere those who have hiked, biked and
loved the mountain might be found. At a minimum, it will educate
readers as to why Tam's purported Native American nickname as "The
Sleeping Maiden" is a manufactured historical myth (see below).

Killion grew up in Mill Valley and recalls a feeling of "awe" about
Tam since early childhood. After much education and world travel, he
settled in West Marin, where his woodblock printmaking studio is a
productive source of the many colorful prints that have graced
numerous books and countless walls and exhibits. Widely known for his
immediately recognizable style and portrayal of natural landscapes,
he first collaborated with Snyder on their book The High Sierra of
California in 2002. Killion has been "carving Tamalpais" in both
color and black-and-white prints since the early 1970s.

Gary Snyder, born in 1930, is one of the most revered literary
figures of our time. A leading light in the San Francisco poetry
scene of the 1950s and early '60s, he first achieved broad renown as
the thinly fictionalized primary figure "Japhy Ryder" in one of Jack
Kerouac's most beloved books, The Dharma Bums, published in 1958. But
he has long surpassed any "beat poet" label with his prescient
ecological and Buddhist thought, Pulitzer and many other lofty
prizes, and iconic stature as a near-heroic voice of true "green"
values who walks his talk by homesteading in the Sierra foothills for
four decades. Before settling there, though, Snyder lived in Mill
Valley in the 1950s and 1960s and has been walking all over Mt. Tam
for more than 60 years.

Tamalpais Walking is primarily Killion's project, featuring 60 of his
singular prints, done over decades and providing viewpoints from
vantages all over the mountain and from all over Marin and the Bay
Area. Killion also contributed essays on his own experiences with Tam
and the mountain's history­he earned a doctorate in African History
at Stanford­as well as descriptions of how he produces his prints.
But at Killion's request, Snyder writes of his own almost lifelong
experiences all over Mt. Tam's slopes, nooks and crannies. Poetry
pertaining to Mt. Tam by Snyder and others is featured throughout.

Snyder, a busy man who has written almost two dozen published works,
taught for many years at UC Davis and still travels widely as a
literary lion of sorts, is now at work on a book "which will be
pretty much a personal memoir of 20th-century trans-Pacific
Buddhism." But he was nonetheless eager to talk about this new work.
As actor Peter Coyote, who has long lived just below Tam himself,
observes of his old friend, "Gary Snyder is the perfect poet for this
mountain. A mountaineer since early childhood, he lived in Japan and
kept company with many of the mountain-sect folk there, and returned
to the States to live just over the hill on Mt. Tam itself. He has
circumambulated it, stopping at its natural 'stations of the cross'
to pray and honor its divinity. Who else would you want to write about it?"
--

What are your early memories of Mt. Tam?

My first experience with Tam after my childhood [Snyder grew up in
the Pacific Northwest and visited Bay Area relatives as a child] was
in 1948 when I was passing through the Bay Area on my way back from
working as a seaman in South America. My college sweetheart lived in
San Francisco and I connected with her and we went on a hike all over
the mountain, as described in the book. Anyway, after I finished my
undergraduate...I lived for a while in Berkeley, and then enrolled at
UC Berkeley and stayed there until I first went to Japan in May of
1956. But before I left, I lived for four or five months in Mill
Valley and did a lot of walking on the mountain then. At that time I
was living in Homestead Valley, off Throckmorton, and I could walk
out the door of my little cabin and get onto trail walks that didn't
involve very much walking on pavement at all.

So you soon got this concept of walking all the way around in a day...

Yes, I had all these old maps and had studied them closely. When I
went to Japan there were two big hills called Atago and Hiei. There
was a Shinto Buddhist shrine up [Mt. Atago]; and Mt. Hiei had been
for many centuries the headquarters of the Tendai sect...I learned
from some of the priests of one of their many practices, which was
circumambulation. This involved going around the mountain by a
certain route for a thousand days. People have been doing that for
centuries; it's an old practice not only in East Asia but also in
North India, Nepal and Tibet. It's a Buddhist practice that is
probably older than Buddhism.

So back on the West Coast in the mid-'60s, I connected a route on Mt.
Tam and walked it once or twice by myself, and then took Philip
Whalen [poet and Zen priest who once lived in Marin] and Allen
Ginsberg together to do it with me. We initiated stops at certain
locations, to chant and blow the conch and such.

So how did you hook up with Tom Killion to start collaborating on
these books of images and words?

I had first met him in the 1960s I think, and he had given me a gift
of his early book 28 Views of Mt. Tamalpais. He'd become a passionate
print artist fairly early on. After some years he got ahold of me to
do a book on the High Sierra, which was a wonderful project. And
after several more years he said he'd like to do another on Mt. Tam,
and I was interested from the start, although we agreed it would in
some ways be a very different book.

What's the main difference?

Tam is used by very many people, and is not a wilderness area like
the Sierra. Tom was already well read about the history of the
mountain, so I started reading up about the history of hiking,
especially in the late 19th century when many people got excited
about it. It was not just done for wilderness travel. William
Wordsworth and his sister walked 30 miles through a rainstorm all
night! People could be really hardy; John Muir was not so special in
that regard. Many people got out to be gold-rush miners by walking
the whole way. That's the way most of the world was.

There was a lot of struggle through the years to preserve Tam from
development and logging; did you study that?

Yes. It's fascinating, really; the mountain has never been that
intensively managed and there is no one single landholding
jurisdiction over it­it was cobbled together by the goodwill and
strong spirits of all kinds of people. It's also mostly not the
federal government, other than when William Kent decided to give them
Muir Woods­and not let them name it after himself, by the way­and
then some parts of it are now in the GGNRA [Golden Gate National
Recreation Area]. The efforts of private citizens from different
parts of areas around the mountain combined in various ways to save
it, even though they were often not quite sure exactly what they were
trying to do a lot of the time. The people who had the railroad to
the top also wanted to extend it over to Stinson and Bolinas, but
that got stopped. A developer was going to log and build housing in
Muir Woods­until Kent bought it. Then the Marin water district came
into existence and that saved a good chunk of the north side of the mountain.

And so all of this combined to give us a place where you go walking
on trails that were mostly built by volunteers, and you rarely go
through a boundary that says "You have now left this and entered
that." So that's part of the fascination I have with the social and
political history of the mountain.

In the book, there is an ironic observation that a century ago there
was a "class" distinction about hiking; if you were rich, you rode
your horses in Golden Gate Park, but if you were of more limited
means, you hiked Mt. Tam.

Right! Once stages and cars came into being, walking started to
become something you only did if you had no other option. But later
it again became something anyone did. But a lot of the early hikers
weren't poor; some were influenced by English and French romanticism.
Rousseau was a great walker, and Dickens went for a 10- or 15-mile
walk every night sometimes, throughout London. Which could have made him crazy.

As for other writers, you first took Jack Kerouac hiking on Tam, right?

Yes I did, several times in the 1950s when I was living in my little
cabin in Homestead Valley. I had already introduced him to hiking in
the Sierra when we went up on the Matterhorn in October of 1955,
which is described in The Dharma Bums­one of the few things in the
book which is actually close to truth [laughing]. And I took Allen on
the mountain, and Philip, anyone I could get my hands on. Jack was a
hardy hiker and old football player, who had no problem laying on the
ground and going to sleep, and after Tam I talked him into applying
for his famous fire lookout job. Allen was thought of as one of these
wimpy Easterners, but he and I did a ropes, ice axes and crampons
climb of Glacier Peak in the North Cascades in Washington state one time.

Do you have any favorite spots on the mountain?

Well, it's very diverse there, because it has the ocean on one side,
the interior on the east and microclimates all over. You can go into
a damp drippy redwood grove in one part of the day, and be in cypress
and serpentine vegetation later. One special place is up in that
basin where Rock Springs used to be, and the serpentine outcropping
just a short walk away. Potrero Meadows is always surprising in its
openness and scope, especially this time of year when it is fresh and
green and wet. The slopes coming up from Muir Woods are very nice,
and to go down the Steep Ravine trail is remarkable. I used to always
come down the absolutely barren rocky trail that would take you down
to Mountain Home, but wisely enough they've closed that as a route
and I take a more sensible and safer one. And I really love the old
Mountain Theatre, which is nearly always empty of people. What energy
they had in those days­they had to think they could have a theater
there and hold full-scale plays. I've sat there and meditated, just
pick any spot on the stone seating looking out over the city and bay
and sometimes all the way to Mount Diablo.

Do you have any most striking memories of incidents or sightings up there?

You know, my memories are not like I have a single great story; it
might be just a particular hawk or vulture going over, an old
tree...I suppose I could tell a few things I did with girls but that
wouldn't go into a newspaper. It's just a great place to take people
who may have looked at it from the city or the Bay Bridge, but it's
full of details and endlessly interesting.

As a poet, do you have any favorite poems about Mt. Tam, by yourself or others?

You know, I can't help but say that Lew Welch's poems about the
mountain, especially some of his final ones, are really touching
[Iconoclast poet Welch was also associated with the beats and lived
in Marin in the 1960s before disappearing in 1971; some of his poems
are included in the new book]. He was another person who really got
to know the mountain.

In the new book, Killion writes that you avoid using words like
"sacred" about the mountain. Why is that?

I do think the word "sacred" is overused­in fact, it's thrown around
without treating it sacredly. My ancient mother, who died recently,
always said she was an atheist. I asked her about it one time and she
said, "Well, there might be a god, but if there is a god, it's so
powerful, amazing and beautiful that it would be kind of
disrespectful to say you believed in it!"

Wow­what a statement.

Yes, and I really liked that. So, you also shouldn't have to call
wilderness, or a mountain, "sacred" in order to have to protect it.
That's kind of a rhetorical thing to say when there are actually
perfectly good other things to say that more people might listen to.
You see, Mt. Tam is not like the High Sierra of California. It has
been a very powerful and perhaps half-unrecognized influence on the
whole Bay Area. Tam is a model for appreciating nature close at hand
and not needing a total icon of pristine wilderness to get your
attention. We can make the most out of all kinds of areas closer to
us. And I hope this book might bring some new people into
consciousness about Tamalpais, and they might want to get out on the
mountain and take a real look around.
--

Carving Tamalpais with Tom Killion

Growing up in Mill Valley, Tom Killion's first memory of Tam is "when
I was about 7, and went way up on the fire roads with my
next-door-neighbor family, and discovered I could just go right out
the back door and up some flights of steps and be on the trails­it
was a real adventure." And thus, his sense of awe about Tam's slopes.
But as a trained historian, he did not harbor much awe for the widely
told story of local Native Americans seeing Tam's outline as one of a
"sleeping lady" or "sleeping maiden."

"It's an invention, one of the 19th-century creations of the new
settlers," he says. "As the Europeans took over new parts of America,
they seemed to want to create some sort of 'back story' for
themselves. And what they did was foist it upon the people they'd
displaced. Here at least it is relatively benign. The 'Sleeping
Beauty' story was really popular in the mid-1800s, as the Brothers
Grimm had just published their collection of stories, and then out
came some operas, such as Wagner's Ring Cycle. Germans were the
biggest population group of immigrants in the Bay Area in the late
19th century, and they loved to go hiking and pioneered the hiking
culture on the mountain."

Killion notes that the first mention in writing of the Sleeping
Maiden dates to the 1870s, but that the image's creation of the
"Indian" aspect of the story came later. "To make it seem more
authentic, the first generation of kids born and raised in Marin and
San Francisco in the late 1880s and early 1900s started to put it
into poetry and such. There were all sorts of invented Indian legends
then; they couldn't quite decide how to view the Native Americans
here, for as long as they were still contesting them for the land
they hated them and it was massacres and genocide, but once they were
subdued and disappeared into the background, they became 'noble
savages.'" Killion says it is not surprising that no mention of any
"sleeping maiden" has been found in Native American lore, as "you
just don't find that kind of anthropomorphizing of places around
here." Finally, "People I've talked to here who are descendants of
Miwoks say it was all invented."

"The fascinating thing is how young people in the early 20th century,
already a generation removed from the days when there was much
interaction between Miwok people and the early settlers, wanted this
mountain they loved to somehow have a romantic past. So they came up
with these wonderful adolescent stories­and the adults grabbed ahold
of it and used it to create a recreational background for their
culture of hiking. One of the Marin kids was an actor in the Mountain
Play and the myth found its way into the play in 1921."

Still, he admits, "once somebody says it, you can really see it"­via
the power of suggestion. "It's more obvious from the East Bay, and in
those days many more people were out on the bay as that's how one
traveled then."

Killion "never took any art classes" and is largely self-taught. His
earliest woodcut of Tam dates from 1969 or 1970, done when he was a
teenager as a holiday card for his family. Now, with many layers of
color in his more elaborate pieces, he says a single work can take
him over 300 hours of work. "I tend to expect that I will spend two
months on something, but it often runs to almost four months for
these big color ones," he says. "It's almost like painting with wood
blocks at this point; I get the basics down and keep carving away a
little more, building up the colors, and sometimes have gone up to 15
or more layers."

As for his own favorite spots on the mountain, he lists "out at the
serpentine power point above Rock Springs, and down along the front
of Bolinas Ridge, most any old place, and an area over on the north
side trail where you have this wonderful flora, madrones with that
beautiful pink bark growing over that gray wacky rock that is all
over Mt. Tam."

He then started to run off a list of many more beloved spots, but
ended with "Lone Tree Spring, on the Dipsea trail­I'm sure that's
what Lew Welch was thinking of when he wrote that hymn to a spring."

Prayer to a Mountain Spring

Gentle Goddess

Who never asks for anything at all,

and gives us everything we have,

thank you for this sweet water,

and your fragrance.

­Lew Welch, 1969

From Lew Welch, Ring of Bone: Collected Poems 1950-1971.Bolinas:
Grey Fox Press, 1979. Edited by Donald Allen.
--

Killion and Snyder will appear at Book Passage in Corte Madera
Tuesday, April 28, at 7pm; see www.bookpassage.com. And at Toby's
Feed Barn in Pt. Reyes Station Saturday, June 20:
www.ptreyesbooks.com/events.html. Irregular 'Sun' contributor Steve
Heilig is on the staff of Commonweal in Bolinas and the San Francisco
Medical Society, a contributor to the 'West Marin Review,' and a
longtime book critic for the 'San Francisco Chronicle' and many other
publications.

.

Former Child Star Mark Rudd

Former Child Star Mark Rudd

http://article.nationalreview.com/?q=NmY0NzJkMWY1YTc0MDY0NGNjZTlkN2NlZjkzNjRjMzU=

An aging revolutionary looks back to the good old Sixties.

By Fred Schwarz
April 23, 2009

It was 41 years ago today, on April 23, 1968, that Mark Rudd led the
most famous 1960s college riot of them all. Hundreds of Columbia
University students, protesting the Vietnam War and assorted other
things, assembled chaotically, occupied half a dozen university
buildings, and ended up shutting down the campus for a month. Rudd
soon moved on to more ambitious and violent activities, which
eventually made it necessary for him to go into hiding.

In his new memoir, Underground: My Life With SDS and the Weathermen,
Rudd describes his encounter with an old revolutionary buddy in 1976,
when Rudd had been hiding from the law for six years and was thinking
about going straight:

"What will you do aboveground ­ if you're not in jail? Join the
Democratic Party?"

"Any form of organizing is better than this," I replied. "At least
we'll be accomplishing something."

JJ just shook his head, disgusted. I had become a right-winger on the
order of William F. Buckley.

Along with demonstrating that WFB always had the best of enemies,
this passage, which appears on page 280, shows that I actually read
the whole book. Anytime you see a review in which all the quotations
are from the preface, it's a good bet that the reviewer didn't go any
farther ­ which is, in fact, the best way to read many books.

Including this one, because Rudd's preface tells you everything you
need to know. The Iraq War, "despite some significant differences,
was Vietnam all over again"; today's students "seem genuinely amazed
to learn that once there was a group of young white kids from
privileged backgrounds who risked everything for our antiwar,
antiracist, and revolutionary beliefs"; "Weatherman's failures are
less important than the simple astonishing fact that we existed"; the
1960s were "American democracy's finest hour."

After that, you know exactly what he's going to say in the rest of
the book. By heroically passing out flyers, carrying signs, and
occupying buildings, these brave souls brought the Vietnam War to a
close in a mere seven years. Emulating the holy trinity of Mao,
Castro, and Che, they won the American public's firm allegiance
through the unshakeable righteousness of their cause. Halfway around
the world, sturdy Vietnamese peasants were fighting out of pure
ideological zeal to expel the imperialist aggressors and their local
puppet army, but the American government was too stupid and corrupt
to figure this out. And so on, and so on, and so on.

If the guy at the food co-op with the long white beard rattled on
like this while weighing out the lentils, you would smile indulgently
and glance at your watch. If a Distinguished Professor of Education
said it during a speech, you would wearily shake your head. But when
a forgettable 1960s relic goes on in the same vein for 300 pages
plus, it's like a four-CD box set of Iron Butterfly's Greatest Hit.

THINGS LEFT UNSAID
Yet while there are no surprises to be found in what Rudd says, it's
revealing to look at what he doesn't say. For instance, he makes only
a few brief mentions of an issue that held overwhelming importance at
the time: the draft. The main reason campus opposition to the war was
so widespread was that students did not want themselves or their
friends to get killed ­ a legitimate objection, to be sure.

Rudd scorns this concern. When his fellow Columbia students vote to
bar the college from cooperating with the Selective Service, he
sniffs that many were "driven more by self-interest ­ staying out of
the army ­ rather than a principled opposition to the government's
policies in Vietnam." Even worse were the faculty members, "all
liberal men," who were "nominally against the war, but only because
the United States was losing, which was the worst reason, in my
opinion." Rudd's objection to the war was that America was impeding
the spread of Communism. Yet a large fraction of his fellow
protesters based their opposition on individual rights and a concern
for America ­ two principles directly antithetical to the ones Rudd
was preaching.

Similarly, Rudd hardly ever uses the terms "North Vietnam" or "South
Vietnam" ­ once every few dozen pages at most, and only when
absolutely necessary. The rest of the time it's just "Vietnam," in
keeping with the party line that it was a single country with a
foreign-occupied south. He speaks with admiration of Vietcong
guerrillas "who were willing to sacrifice so much for their
independence," ignoring the fact that they were actually fighting to
subjugate an independent South Vietnam. And he describes the day in
1975 when the Communists sacked Saigon (strangely uncelebrated by
Rudd's old student allies) as "the final victory by the Vietnamese."
Even now, two decades after the rest of the world got the news, Rudd
can't bring himself to admit that the Vietnamese people he professes
to love had powerful reasons to fear living under a Communist dictatorship.

Also revealing is what Rudd says but does not understand. Learning
about the Holocaust as a child, he writes, taught him "that evil
exists and that it is associated with racism." While that's way too
sweeping a statement, he is correct to suggest that most evil mass
movements originate in, or at least take advantage of,
group-versus-group hatred. Rudd himself is a prime example of this.
He grew up, he says, "in a suburban New Jersey town, always knowing
that the world consisted of two kinds of people: Us and Them, the
Jews and the goyim." On first joining Students for a Democratic
Society (SDS), he writes: "Having served my sentence as a loner, a
bookworm, a nerd in high school, I had finally found my gang." He
airily dismisses the protesters' student opponents as "jocks" and
sneers at their crew cuts, WASPy demeanor, and preppy clothes. Later
he imagines himself promising his parents to "bring down the dumb
goyim who run this country."

There's nothing unusual about such feelings, of course; many of our
beliefs and allegiances spring from reasons no more rational. If I
had been at Columbia in Rudd's day, I would have opposed the
protesters simply because of those godawful folk songs they sang.
Ultimately, lots of the choices we make in life are based on which
team we think has the cool kids; this kind of "not exactly our set"
sentiment is responsible for many of the fissures within today's
conservative movement, for example. But while most people eventually
learn to rise above such resentments, Rudd seems to have built his
whole life around them.

Instead of treating everyone the same, Rudd ­ like many leftists,
then and today ­ equated being non-racist with giving in to the most
vocal black leaders at every opportunity. When his SDS faction took
over Columbia's Hamilton Hall, a group of black protesters, student
and non-student, first joined Rudd's group, then ejected them because
they wanted to have their own building and their own protest. After
getting kicked out of the building shortly before dawn, a crestfallen
Rudd staggers crying and bewildered through the campus, with "no plan
or strategy, other than the single universal thought that we couldn't
abandon the blacks back in Hamilton."

Once in a great while, when Rudd can bring himself to set aside the
hectoring and just tell his story, the old son of a bitch is almost
endearing. He describes his confusion at the start of the April 23
demonstration, when he realized he had no idea of what to do next and
ended up running after the people he was supposed to be leading. He's
nerdy enough to mention that he made the dean's list that semester.
And in a case of life imitating a Jackie Mason routine, when Rudd
finally surrenders to police after a decade spent preaching Marxism,
plotting violent revolution, and hiding out from the law, his father
asks if he might be interested in joining the family business.

At other times Rudd can be downright creepy. In Havana he gratefully
accepts from the North Vietnamese ambassador a pin made of metal from
a downed American plane, which he wears for years afterwards. (On a
later visit to Havana, Communist-party officials from Cuba and North
Vietnam advise a group of Weathermen to lighten up and tone down
their rhetoric. When those guys are the moderates, it should tell you
something.) Elsewhere Rudd is awe-inspiringly clueless: After a
blow-by-blow account of the Days of Rage in October 1969, when he and
a few hundred fellow rioters spent three days in Chicago setting off
bombs, smashing windows and cars, and fighting with cops, he whines
about "one-sided police violence."

Rudd's account of the insular spiral of insanity within his
revolutionary cult in 1969 and 1970 is scarily vivid and exhibits
rare self-awareness. Weatherman (the organization's correct name,
singular with no "the"; its members were "Weathermen," and the board
of directors was the Weather Bureau) practiced ruthless
self-criticism, subordination of all social and family relationships
to The Cause, and (as he shares with us in unwelcome detail) plenty
of mandatory and voluntary sexual experimentation. Oddly, while he
ladles on the sex, Rudd barely acknowledges the other two-thirds of
the Sixties troika, mentioning drugs only rarely and rock 'n' roll
virtually not at all. Was he secretly a 1910 Fruitgum Co. fan?

When they weren't writhing around together on some garbage-strewn
floor ­ and sometimes when they were ­ the Weatherfolk passed the
time by minutely and exhaustively discussing the prospect of armed
proletarian revolution in Amerika: when it would come, how it would
come, among whom it would originate, whether it could be hastened,
and so on ad infinitum. They disputed these points calmly and
rationally, with frequent citations of scholarly studies and radical
tracts, unaware that it all had as much to do with reality as an
analysis of what would happen if Spiderman fought Mr. Spock.

By this point, Rudd was already washed up. After his brief day of
prominence at Columbia, he would never be a leader again. Plagued by
depression and irresoluteness, he became a recruiter, a raiser of
funds from wealthy donors (sometimes his parents), and a high-level
administrative assistant, carrying out the plans of the Weather
Bureau firebrands despite (he now says) increasing misgivings ­ which
did not, of course, keep him from working to exhaustion calling
contacts, raising bail, making mimeographs, arranging safe houses,
and taking care of the thousand other mundane tasks that plague a
busy revolutionary.

The turning point of Rudd's memoir comes in March 1970, when a secret
bomb factory in a Greenwich Village townhouse blows up, killing three
Weathermen. In the aftermath of this accident, Rudd goes into hiding
and the book gets even duller. Except for a briefish epilogue, it
ends in 1977, when he resurfaces, pleads guilty to minor charges, and
gets off with probation. Stopping there was a wise editorial
decision, because when removed from his radical context, Rudd is
worse than unlikable; he's pedestrian. Today he lives in New Mexico,
where he builds houses, teaches at a community college, and spouts
Marxist philosophy to anyone who will listen.

RETROSPECTIVE
Looking back, Rudd is proud but regretful. While holding firmly to
his political views, he admits that he and his colleagues made many
tactical errors. For instance, there was the evening that he and his
high-spirited girlfriend spent running through the streets, "stopping
traffic, banging on limos, dousing them with cow's blood, and
grappling with the police," all of which was meant "to disrupt
people's normal lives in order to compel them to consider the war."
With the wisdom that comes with age, he now reflects: "What they were
probably considering was how much they despised us for
inconveniencing their commute." You think? Later, when a hard-line
Maoist faction tries to take over SDS, Rudd decides that the best
response is to outflank them by moving even farther left and becoming
even more violent: "Bold action ­ propaganda of the deed ­ would
cause more people to become radicalized and join us." That didn't
work out too well.

He also rues the sexism that permeated the 1960s Left, though he
assures us that he has grown since then: "Today, if I were aware of a
man brutalizing his partner, I would protect the woman without
hesitation. The last thing I'd do would be to make the man the leader
of an underground guerrilla group." That's reassuring. Yet through it
all, he insists that the cause was just, his brothers-in-arms were
noble if misguided, and together they did many good and important
things. His unspoken guiding principle is that any mistake is
excusable if it was meant to help The Movement.

In the end, what did they accomplish? Richard Nixon eventually put a
stop to the war, but it's unclear whether even peaceful
demonstrators, let alone violent radicals like Rudd, hastened the end
or delayed it. The only thing their tedious political manifestos
achieved was to show how irredeemably crazy and destructive Communism
was, and the climate of radicalism that the anti-war protesters
helped to create did no favors for the black-power movement or the
emerging cause of feminism.

Meanwhile, back at Columbia, student protests have long since become
a silly but heartwarming tradition, like lousy football. With the
faculty and administration safely parlor-radicalized, the demands
typically revolve around some bureaucratic detail, like creating a
department of ethnic studies or eliminating due-process rights for
students accused of sex crimes; during one demonstration, the
university president actually brought food to protesters camped out
on a lawn. First time tragedy, second time farce, and the hundredth
time a crashing bore.

Still, as Rudd tours the nation to sell his book, and his Weatherman
colleagues Bill Ayers and Bernardine Dohrn pal around with the
president of the United States, it's worth remembering that they
leave behind a trail of dead, mangled, and crippled bodies, ruined
and interrupted lives, broken marriages, emotionally scarred victims,
and destroyed property and dreams ­ just like another famous pair:

" They were careless people, Tom and Daisy ­ they smashed up things
and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast
carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let
other people clean up the mess they had made. (The Great Gatsby) "

And as the rest of the world struggles to come to grips with the 21st
century, Rudd and his dwindling band of 1960s comrades "beat on,
boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past" ­ an
era of obvious choices and easy certainties, complete with noble
heroes and wicked villains and a bright, shining collectivist future
that always seemed to be just around the corner, but somehow kept
getting farther away.
--

Fred Schwarz is a deputy managing editor of National Review.

.

Beatle Stalking

Beatle Stalking

http://media.www.mcquadrangle.org/media/storage/paper663/news/2009/04/22/Features/Off-The.Beaten.Path.Beatle.Stalking-3721850.shtml

Chuck Daly
Issue date: 4/22/09

A few weeks ago, on the night of April 4, I went to a concert
featuring the two surviving Beatles, Ringo Starr and Sir Paul
McCartney. The only hitch, I didn't have tickets.

I tried so hard to get tickets for this once in a lifetime event. I
signed up for the presale list (which didn't work because four
million people signed up for this list). Then I got up early for the
general sale, but that was also to no avail. All of the tickets left
sold out in a record breaking seven seconds.

Actually, I was able to buy one ticket, at the bargain price of $795
dollars. Unfortunately, considering that is practically my yearly
income, I had to pass.

I was heartbroken; even though I have seen Ringo live before, I had
never seen Paul, and the idea of seeing them together was phenomenal
for a Beatles fan. So what was I to do?

I decided to take advantage of this wonderful city and go down to
Radio City Music Hall, just to see what it was like. The whole subway
ride was bittersweet. I thought how cool it was that even though I
did not have a ticket, I can just hop on a train and be there in half
an hour. But there was still that lingering depression of not having
the tickets.

When I made it to Radio City, the air was buzzing. There were seas of
excited people wearing Beatles tee shirts all flocking into the
relatively small concert hall. Once all of the actual ticket holders
were inside there was still a crowd of about a hundred people
outside. Most of them had signs saying '1' or '2', signifying the
amount of tickets they needed. One interesting fellow was asking for 17.

It was very comforting, in a kind of strange way, that all of these
people were in the same boat as me. We shared stories of trying to
get tickets, as well as general Beatles stories. One freakishly tall
man with a sign was holding a trivia contest, saying that the winner
would get a free ticket. He didn't have any tickets.

The other Beatles were well represented at the show as well. There
was a man who told me that he was John Lennon. I didn't want to hurt
his feelings, but I asked him "Didn't you die about thirty years ago?"

He told me that it was a cover-up. When I asked him what his death
was covering up, he simply replied, "My death."

There was also a very interesting looking man that looked like he saw
the Beatles back in '65 and hadn't shaved since. He looked like
Gandalf if Gandalf was 5'2".

The night was not a complete failure though. In addition to meeting
some lovely people, NBC studios is right across the street. Since it
was a Saturday night, the dress rehearsal for that week's SNL was
about to start. I'm pretty sure I saw Seth Rogan (who hosted that
night) get out of his limo, or maybe it was just some other celebrity
with a fro.

All in all, my night at Radio City Music Hall was one that I will
always remember. No, I did not get to see the ex-Beatles in concert,
but knowing that I was really close to them is pretty cool. Plus, I
got to meet some characters who made my Beatle stalking seem totally normal.

.

The dubious legacy of César Chávez

[3+ items]

The dubious legacy of César Chávez

http://www.leftbusinessobserver.com/YatesOnUFW.html

by Michael Yates

Randy Shaw, Beyond the Fields: César Chávez, the UFW, and Struggle
for Justice in the 21st Century (Berkeley: University of California
Press, 2008), 347 pp., $24.95.

The thesis of this book is simple. Randy Shaw argues that most of the
social movements of the contemporary U.S.­labor, immigrant rights,
antiwar, worker and consumer health and safety, anti-sweatshop­are
fundamentally the progeny of César Chávez and the United Farm Workers
(UFW) union. Shaw attempts to prove this by showing that UFW alumni
have been critical leaders of these movements, and these causes have
employed tactics pioneered by Chávez and the farm workers. Shaw's
argument is deeply flawed.

It is certainly true that thousands of young people, radical
activists, trade unionists, clergy, and assorted other actors,
politicians, writers, and artists worked for or with the UFW during
its heyday from the mid-1960s until about 1980. I did, in the winter
of 1977, when I worked at La Paz, the union's headquarters in Keene,
California. For most of us, our UFW experiences were exciting and
meaningful. We carried them with us, and they informed our lives and actions.

But the same things could be said about the IWW before the First
World War; the CIO or the Communist Party during the 1930s; or the
SDS, the SWP, and the antiwar and the civil rights movements of the
1960s. Of course, there were historical continuities in all of these
movements­a problem for Shaw's arguments. The UFW didn't spring
full-blown from the body and mind of César Chávez and his mentor Fred
Ross. There is history here, and Shaw, by and large, ignores it.
Would the UFW have been possible without the radical Filipino farm
workers who started the organizing? The Filipinos drew strength from
struggles in their homeland and from the CIO upheavals of the Great
Depression. The union used the boycott to good effect, at least in
the beginning, and its use of volunteers to staff boycott offices in
every major city in the United States and some in Canada was
innovative. But the boycott built the AFL in the 1880s and 1890s.
Similarly, the civil rights movement used boycotts, nonviolent
demonstrations, and volunteers by the thousands, the sorts of tactics
that Shaw attributes to Chávez's genius. Certainly, someone could
write a similar book using this movement as its template. The UFW was
not unique.

Flaws up close

Consider three points, two small and one large.

First, Shaw says that, "During the 1950s, Chávez met Father Donald
McDonnell, who introduced him …to a recent encyclical from Pope Leo
XIII on the church's support for workers who protested unfair labor
conditions." The encyclical, Rerum Novarum ("Of New Things"), was
written in 1891, which hardly made it recent. But Shaw doesn't say
that the Pope wrote it in response to the growing popularity of
left-wing unions and politics among working people. It is an
anti-socialist screed, aimed at Catholic workers. It is very much a
defense of capitalism, and only goes so far as to suggest that
capitalists must treat workers fairly.

Shaw makes much of the UFW's alliance with religious groups and
clergy, and there is no doubt that church support for the
farmworkers' struggles helped the union immensely. However, the close
relationship the UFW and Chávez had with churches was a mixed
blessing. The Catholic Church is a hierarchical, dogmatic, and sexist
organization. The Church view is, at best, that the poor are worthy
sinners who have to be looked after by the priests, who, like Christ,
sacrifice for them.

Chávez imbibed this paternalistic ethic, and the ministers, who
flocked to the union and were powerful within it, encouraged him.
Chávez said that to sacrifice is to be a man. With the union's
successes, Chávez began to think of himself as a holy person,
Christ-like and above reproach. Once in a community meeting at La
Paz, César was criticized by some of us for making an incredibly
sexist remark. He became enraged and said, "I work eighteen fucking
hours a day for the union. Who of you can say the same?"

How do you challenge Christ?

Is it any wonder that when Chávez showed his disdain for
rank-and-file power in the union, almost none of the clergy
challenged him? Or many of his staff or board members either? Is it
surprising that Chávez was a staunch anti-communist and engaged in
vicious and mindless purges and red-baiting of those who challenged
his authority?

Chávez had a history, and the social doctrines of the Catholic church
were part of it. Unfortunately, Shaw ignores the seamier side of
these. You would never know from this book that the Church did some
evil deeds during the great CIO movement of the 1930s, even informing
about left-wing labor leaders to the FBI.

The Game

The final chapter in the book contains a long list of UFW alumni who
have continued to fight the good fight. It is a kind of "shout out"
to these often unrecognized models of courage and social solidarity
and an attempted empirical validation of Shaw's thesis. There are
some curious inclusions and omissions, and these raise a second point
of criticism. Under the heading "Labor Organizer/Union Staff," we
find the name, Fred Hirsch. Fred is a communist plumber, and he was
one of the first researchers to uncover the close relationship
between certain unions and the CIA. He worked diligently in support
of the UFW, beginning in the 1960s. Fred did not owe his politics or
dedication to labor to Chávez or the UFW but to the communist movement.

Fred's daughter, Liza, who is not on Shaw's list, began working with
(and then for) the union from age twelve. I helped her develop a
piece rate proposal for tomato pickers at a ranch near Oxnard,
California. We shared a friendship with a volunteer at La Paz, a man
who did carpentry and maintenance work for the union.

In the winter of 1977, Chávez hooked up with Charles Dederich, who
ran a drug rehabilitation center called Synanon. (To his credit, Shaw
discusses this in a chapter on the UFW's decline). Dederich had
concocted a psychological warfare scheme called the "Game," in which
addicts were subjected to relentless group attacks, the idea being to
break down their psyches so they could start over again, without
drugs. At the time of Chávez's fascination with Synanon and the
"Game," Dederich was a megalomaniacal cult leader, abusing his
clientele. A reporter who exposed the organization found a
rattlesnake in his mailbox.

César took to the "game" like Stalin to the secret police, and he
used it for the same purpose­to consolidate his power in the union.
He took some trusted members of his inner circle to Synanon for
training and began immediately to force the game upon the staff. On
April 4, 1977, he incited a screaming mob of "Game" initiates to
purge the union of "troublemakers." All sorts of ridiculous charges
were made against "enemies of the union," including our carpenter
friend. When our friend confronted Caesar and demanded to face his
accusers in a hearing, as the union's constitution stated was his
right, Chávez called the Mojave police and had him arrested for trespassing.

The last time I saw him was at Fred Hirsch's house in San Jose, after
we bailed him out of jail. A few weeks later, Liza went to La Paz to
attend the wedding of a friend. César, with whom she had been very
close and in whose house she had once lived, summarily threw her off
the property and expelled her from the union.

Wreckage

If the UFW positively changed some peoples' lives, it harmed and
wrecked others. Shaw certainly knows this; he just chose not to
mention it. He devotes considerable space to the admirable parts of
the life and work of famed UFW leader Dolores Huerta, who is also on
his list. He uses her as a prime example of the importance of the UFW
in training and nurturing social change activists. She has won every
imaginable award given to women leaders and been in the forefront of
many struggles.

But Huerta has never repudiated Chávez's dictatorial, hateful, and
ruinous behavior. She could have, and it might have made a
difference. Instead, she was and still is a Chávez apologist. Shaw
reports that she was unhappy with the treatment of women in the
union. She says that women need to have power. She doesn't say for
what. Had she been union president, I doubt things would have turned
out much different.

Also absent from Shaw's list of UFW luminaries is Chávez's son, Paul.
The younger Chávez still lives at La Paz, from where he runs a group
of interlinked union enterprises, including radio stations and
housing companies. The union raises money from these and many other
sources: mass mailing fund-raising, marketing the Chávez name to sell
union trinkets and win public grants, political consulting, and
managing union trust funds. The union has precious few members; a
handful of members collect pensions or get health care from the trust
funds (though they sit on tens of millions of dollars); and the union
leadership seems little concerned about any of this. Paul Chávez is
paid more than $125,000 for his "services" to farm workers.

A charitable description of today's UFW is that it has become a
quasi-racket. Another UFW legacy Shaw neglects to discuss. Chávez
created an undemocratic union of migrant workers. He ran it as if it
were his property. History tells us that such an organization is ripe
for corruption. And so it was.

Legacy

The final and most serious flaw of Shaw's analysis shows itself in
the opening pages, where he says, "This legacy should not be based on
the size of the UFW's current membership rolls. Rather, it should be
evaluated by the impact of its ideas and alumni on current social
justice struggles."

Let's see now. The UFW managed, despite long odds, to organize farm
workers, attract thousands of talented volunteers to its banner,
build a feared grassroots political action machine, defeat the
Teamsters and the sweetheart contracts it had signed with growers,
and win passage of a farm workers' labor law unmatched by any other
such statute in the country. By 1977, the union was poised to achieve
a mass membership that would have made it a power to be reckoned with
in California, and maybe in the entire nation.

But then, under Chávez's autocratic leadership, the union dissolved
the boycott staff, firing its leader and accusing him of being a
communist; purged its staff, using the most disgusting means
imaginable; refused to entertain any local union autonomy and
democracy; denied the election of actual farm workers to the union
board; ruined the careers, and in some cases, the jobs, of
rank-and-file union dissidents; lost almost all of its collective
bargaining agreements, and began a long and ugly descent into corruption.

Today, farm workers in California are no better off than they were
before the union came on the scene. They still don't often live past
fifty; they still suffer the same job-related injuries and illnesses;
they still don't have unions; they are still at the bottom of the
labor market barrel. How is all of this not an important, indeed
critical, legacy of the UFW? If we judge the union and Chávez in
terms of the well-being of the workers they set out to organize, both
must be judged utter failures. If we compare the UFW to any number of
the CIO's left-led unions, for example, the United Packinghouse
Workers of America, the Farmworkers pale by comparison. The UPWA was
not only a multiracial and democratic union. It also led the struggle
to end segregation at work and in the workers' communities, and it
put the pay of the black and immigrant laborers who did the
unenviable work of slaughtering the animals we eat on a par with
those of steel and auto workers.

A union is supposed to organize workers and improve their lives.
Chávez and the UFW had their chances, and they threw them away.
Imagine that Martin Luther King had sought and taken advice from
Chuck Dederich after his "I Have a Dream" speech. And after that,
imagine that he had forced the Memphis garbagemen to play the "Game."
Surely historians would count that as a major part of his legacy.

Alumni

And if we follow Shaw's lead and look to the "impact of ideas and
alumni on current social justice struggles," we are still left with
serious problems. Consider two outstanding alumni, Marshall Ganz and
Eliseo Medina.

Ganz was a master organizer, of both union and political campaigns,
and he has put this skill, which he learned in the UFW, to use after
he left the union. He has led election campaigns for former U.S.
senator Alan Cranston, and he was a key organizer in getting Nancy
Pelosi elected to Congress. He now teaches at Harvard's Kennedy
School. Shaw makes much of the get-out-the-vote techniques Ganz has
mastered. However, these were not new when he used them. The AFL-CIO
employed them, and most of the tactics Shaw traces to the UFW, in a
1977 campaign to defeat a right-to-work ballot measure in Missouri. I
don't find Ganz's work for the Democratic Party to be particularly
progressive either. Nancy Pelosi? An old-line political hack trained
in the art of politics by the king of pork, John Murtha?

With Medina, we can make a similar criticism. He did many good things
with the UFW and after he left. But he was the one person who could
have mounted a challenge to Chávez. He chose not to, and he has, to
my knowledge, never repudiated the reprehensible tactics Chávez used
with the "Game."

There may be good reason for this. Today, Medina is a senior
vice-president of SEIU, a union that has used somewhat similar
tactics, but in a situation where the union is loaded with money. The
SEIU hires scads of young nonmember organizers, puts them though a
cult-like training (the same seems to be true of another union, HERE,
which also has many former UFW people on it staff, and which even
uses a variant of the "Game" to train new staffers), works them to
death, gives them no power inside the union, brooks no criticism, and
confines their education to the technocratic mechanics of organizing.
They learn little about the labor movement, economics, and the many
other things that would help them develop a radical, worker-centered ideology.

The same was true in the UFW; César even sent a spy to monitor a
labor history class I had begun to teach interested staff. The SEIU
is completely staff-dominated­and staff make a great deal of
money­Medina is a long way from his UFW penury. His total
compensation in 2006: $194,336. SEIU leadership is as fearful and
intolerant of union democracy and rank-and-file power as the UFW. If
local workers assert themselves, there is a good chance that their
local will be put in trusteeship by the national union­exactly what
happened recently to a large local of healthcare workers in
California. It has been trusteed, and Medina is at the center of the
whole sordid episode. [Randy Shaw himself, on the civil war within
SEIU, is here; a more radical view, from Steve Early, here.]

SEIU is not above threatening to sue its critics, just like the UFW
threatened to sue The Nation magazine in 1977 after it published an
article I wrote critical of the union. Also, like the UFW, the SEIU
has witnessed serious incidents of corruption, involving theft of
money and shady dealings with third parties. There is a separate
heading for SEIU in Shaw's table of UFW notables. It is certainly
debatable whether this legacy of the UFW is a positive one.

The problem with Shaw is that he simply assumes that the various
movements and causes UFW alumni have either led or worked in are
good. He doesn't ask whether what they are doing is what needs to be
done to build a better society. Get out the vote for what? Boycott
for what? Organize workers for what? Teach people to organize for what?

I enjoyed the parts of Shaw's book that recount the UFW's epic
battles. But I did not find the rest of it credible or penetrating.
An objective history of César Chávez, the UFW, and the union's legacy
has yet to be written.
--

Michael Yates is Associate Editor of Monthly Review. A new edition of
his book, Why Unions Matter, is just out.

--------

Randy Shaw Responds to Michael Yates about the Chavez legacy and more

http://talkingunion.wordpress.com/2009/04/23/randy-shaw-responds-to-michael-yates-about-the-chavez-legacy-and-more/

April 23, 2009

The UFW's Powerful Legacy

It is unfortunate that Michael Yates' deep-seated hostility to Cesar
Chavez and the UFW led him to so badly misrepresent my book, Beyond
the Fields: Cesar Chavez, the UFW and the Struggle for Justice in the
21st Century. Yates not only misstates the book's thesis, but he
ignores the vast majority of the text; one would never know from his
review that the book primarily focuses on how, more than forty years
later, the spirit, strategies, and tactics of the UFW in its heyday
still strengthen the U.S. labor movement, build Latino political
power, provide a progressive grassroots electoral model and infuse a
growing national campaign for immigrant rights.

Beyond the Fields tells the story of how many of the ideas, tactics,
and strategies that Chavez and the UFW initiated or revived­including
the boycott, clergy-labor partnerships, and grassroots voter
outreach, particularly toward Latinos­are now so commonplace that
their roots in the farmworkers' movement are forgotten. The UFW
became the era's leading incubator of young activist talent, creating
a generation of skilled alumni who went on to play critical roles in
progressive campaigns.

Yates' either ignores or disputes these themes. Consider his
challenge to my claim that the UFW created a grassroots electoral
model that such alumni as Eliseo Medina, Fred Ross, Jr., Miguel
Contreras, Marshall Ganz and others brought to future campaigns
According to Yates,

"Shaw makes much of the get-out-the-vote techniques Ganz has
mastered. However, these were not new when he used them. The AFL-CIO
employed them, and most of the tactics Shaw traces to the UFW, in a
1977 campaign to defeat a right-to-work ballot measure in Missouri."

Yates must have skipped the sections of my book that describe the
UFW's electoral outreach campaigns in California in 1968, 1972, and
1976. He also missed the chapters that show how these campaigns
created a model for grassroots outreach, particularly among Latinos,
that UFW alumnus Miguel Contreras used in Los Angeles to transform
that city's politics in the late 1990's, and which was then used
throughout California. This UFW electoral outreach model was used in
key contests to boost Latino turnout in the 2006 elections, and in
several swing states won by the Obama campaign in 2008.

I don't know about that right to work measure in Missouri in 1977,
but would be surprised to learn that it targeted many Latino voters.
Yates' review completely ignores my discussion of the UFW's role in
the rise in Latino voting and political power, as well as the growing
labor-Latino alliance, which are central to the book's message.

Even more surprising is Yates' claim that Shaw

"doesn't ask whether what they {UFW alumni} are doing is what needs
to be done to build a better society. Get out the vote for what?
Boycott for what? Organize workers for what? Teach people to organize for what?

What Yates claims is omitted actually comprises most of Beyond the
Fields. Get out the vote for what? Among other campaigns, I describe
get out the vote operations to defeat anti-immigrant candidates in
2006 and to elect 100% pro-labor Democrats like Hilda Solis. Boycott
for what? I discuss the UFW-inspired boycott of El Salvadorean coffee
by the group Neighbor to Neighbor, whose goal was to stop U.S.
military aid to El Salvador and end its government's attacks on labor
and other activists. I also discuss the UFW-inspired national hotel
boycott strategy undertaken in 2006 by UNITE HERE's Hotel Workers
Rising campaign.

Teach people to organize for what? How about for building an
immigrant rights movement, a subject that comprises two chapters in
Beyond the Fields yet Yates entirely ignores. Or building a campaign
for Justice for Janitors, which a UFW alum developed after
recognizing that janitors were a lot like "farmworkers in highrises."
I have an entire chapter on a Justice for Janitors campaign in Miami
in 2006 that Yates, mystified at what good works UFW alumni are
doing, must have skipped

Yates also seems to have missed my chapter on Cesar Chavez's
responsibility for the UFW's decline. He ignores my discussion of
Chavez's increasingly irrational and destructive behavior, and my
conclusion that the UFW's decline was primarily caused by Chavez's
driving the astonishing group of activists and lawyers away. It seems
that nothing short of my calling for the repeal of all state Cesar
Chavez Days would have satisfied Yates.

For someone who titled his book "Why Unions Matter," Yates appears to
have only negative words to say about currently existing unions. He
claims that SEIU and HERE use "cult-like training," and the only
labor organization that appears to meet his high standards is the
United Packinghouse Workers of America, which has not been autonomous
since 1979.

Readers looking for a more accurate account of Beyond the Fields
should look at Steve Early's discussion of the book in his soon to be
released, Embedded With Organized Labor, or visit
http://beyondthefields.net/. Better yet­read the book and decide for yourself.

Randy Shaw

--------

From Portside
25 Apr 2009

Responses to the "Dubious" Legacy of Cesar Chavez

April 22, 2009

This review by Michael Yates includes some extensive
trashing of the Chavez legacy. Clearly that is
important to the writer. In general, I learn from the
writings of Michael Yates and respect his writing.
This piece, however, is over the top.

From internal comments in the review, I see that Mr.
Yates worked for the UFW during the winter of 1977.
This was indeed a difficult time. The charges of the
Game, and redbaiting among others, have their tale to
be told. Randy Shaw covers the Game in his book.
These events had their strongest effect in La Paz where
Michael Yates, according to his report, was a staffer.
A new book presently in preparation will go further on
this.

Having worked with the UFW for over 7 years, and
supported it for more, I think this review by Yates
over states the case against Chavez. You can read the
first hand accounts of hundreds who worked with the UFW
at: www.farmworkermovement.org .

Yates makes an assault on the role of Chavez and the
Catholic church, but in part he is wrong. While he is
correct about the role of the Catholic hierarchy, it
was not the hierarchy that supported Chavez. Indeed
working with the UFW was a form of exile for many.
There were a long series of priests and brothers who
were influenced by (early) liberation theology and who
devoted years to La Causa, as well as a number of
activists protestant clergy and laity. Recall these
were some of the same movements who gave their lives in
support of the Central American revolutions. I knew
3-5 of these folks very well. They were not a part of
the Catholic anti communist alliances referenced by
Yates.

From my own personal, direct experiences I have found
the tale of Fred Hirsch and his daughter to be
essentially correct as told by Yates. You can find
records of these struggles in the Farmworker Movement
documentation center.

One item missing from both the review by Michael Yates,
and the book by Randy Shaw is the major contributions
of the Chavez, Huerta and the UFW in building the
Chicano Movement in the Southwest. In the 60's Chávez
became the pre-eminent civil rights leader for the
Mexican and Chicano workers, helping with local union
struggles throughout the nation. He worked tirelessly
to make people aware of the struggles of farm workers
for better pay and safer working conditions. It is a
testament to Cesar Chavez's skills and courage that the
UFW even survived. They were opposed by major
interests in corporate agriculture including the Bruce
Church and Gallo Corporations as well as the leadership
of the Republican Party then led by Ronald Reagan.
Workers were fired, beaten, threatened and even killed
in pursuit of union benefits . Non union farm workers
today continue to live on sub-poverty wages while
producing the abundant crops in the richest valley, in
the richest state in the richest nation in the world.

Randy Shaw's book covers the later development of
Latinos and Labor in his chapter 7, but Yates ignores
this major contribution. Chicano politics and Chicano
Latino history were made. Several of today's Latino
elected officials got their start working for a few
months with the UFW. I do not know why this
significant contribution is largely ignored in the
Yates review. Perhaps it says some things about the
perspectives of the writer.

Yates offers some brief historical context of labor
history, but each of these examples are themselves full
of contradictions, for example Yates has a great deal
of praise for the United Packinghouse Workers. Well,
there are two or more sides to that story also.

Bottom line, there are many who denounce Chavez as
Yates has done and more to come. Yates also sharply
criticizes Eliseo Medina and Dolores Huerta - among
others. While I disagree with some of the positions
taken by each of these two leaders, note that it was
Eliseo Medina who apparently helped to bring the AFL-
CIO and Change to Win together in the direction of a
joint immigration policy. See the recent posts on this
topic. And, full disclosure, Dolores Huerta is a
friend of mine.

As Shaw argues, hundreds of activists in labor,
Chicano, and community organizations owe their skills
to UFW training and experience. Along with improved
working conditions, salaries, and benefits, training
this cadre of organizers remains a major legacy of the
UFW- as noted by Shaw.

The UFW experience taught us that all organizations
have problems, that all organizations are imperfect.
But, if you wait for the perfect organization, nothing
gets done. Building popular organizations builds
people's power, and democracy requires long, hard,
disciplined work. And, for doing this work you will be
assaulted, defamed, and attacked - as were both Martin
Luther King Jr. and Cesar Chavez.

From long and extensive personal experience, I do not
find Cesar Chavez to have been a saint, nor was he as
destructive as Michael Yates review alleges. You will
have to figure out where you stand on this for
yourself. My own view is closer to the views of Randy
Shaw in Beyond the Fields. See:
http://choosingdemocracy.blogspot.com/2009/03/cesar-chavez-lives-on-struggle-of.html


In Yates's view, the current weakness of the UFW is a
consequence of the failures of authoritarianism in the
union and the peculiar period of the Game.

This overstates the case against Chavez. Certainly the
current weaknesses of the UFW are primarily a
consequence of the assault on the union by corporate
agriculture and the Republican Party. This was the era
of Ronald Reagan. Many unions were weakened in this
period. Should we not expect a new, struggling union
to be impacted by corporate power.? If the decline in
organizing victories was a consequence of leadership
failures, then why have farmworkers been unable to
organize more successfully in Ohio/Indiana and Florida
and Texas?

On May 16, 2008, Maria Isabel Vasquez Jiminez, 17 years
old and pregnant, another undocumented worker in the
U.S., died of heat stroke. Maria and her husband were
working in the fields near Stockton, California when
she collapsed in the 105 degree heat. She was one of at
least 13 workers to die that summer from heat stroke
in California's fields.

Who is it that can fight back and defend these workers?
It is a union. A few people denouncing atrocious
working conditions is not enough. Defense of workers
rights requires organized power and institutions - a
union. The UFW is doing its share of this defense.
See www.ufw.org

I agree with Yates conclusion that a definitive
history of the UFW and its leadership has yet to be
written. The information for research is available.
An important question is what can we learn from these
experiences. For example, two UFW veterans Jerry
Cohen and Leroy Chatfield have organized a group to
advocate for inclusion of farmworkers and domestic
workers within the N.R.L.A. closely related to the
campaign for the Employee Free Choice Act.

Duane Campbell
Democratic Socialists of America
Sacramento

= = = = = = = = = = =

Thank GOD there is an "objective" 'left business
observer' available to us to make sure we don't follow
the life-example of Cesar Chavez. What we need instead
is a thrilling bio of a pure "objective" critic who is
never seduced by any blandishment, and reaches his
coffin unstained by any of the compromises that beset
practical leadership. Thanks too for linking Cesar
Chavez's Synanon experiment to Stalin's secret police,
and for outing Fred Hirsch as a Communist. I actually
knew Fred Hirsch as a friend in San Jose in the 1970's,
during which time I was active in the Communist Party
in the South Bay. Weird that I did not know he was a
Communist then -- those dang cells!! O well, another
debt of gratitude I owe to Mr. Yates disinterested
criticism. Who will rise and write HIS biography and
give us, finally, a sublime legacy? Or, will it be just
ridiculous?

John Case

= = = = = = = = =

Thanks to Michael Yates for correcting the book on
Cesar Chavez. When Yates talks about historical
precedents to UFW, it is important to remember Ernesto
Galarza, HL Mitchell--who led a farmers union in
Arkansas and California long before UFW-- the CP-
influenced Southern Tenants Farmers Unions and other
farm workers' organizers who struggled, largely
outside the law( since farm workers were "exempted"
from the protections of the Federal and State Labor
Relations laws) and succeeded in sinking roots. Mostly
these unionization efforts did not get contracts with
growers; their activities were met with state violence,
mass firings, and evictions. But they persevered. UFW
came toward the end of these efforts and achieved a
lot. But to say that the farm workers movement was
deeply indebted to the Catholic Church is surely a
gross distortion.

Stanley Aronowitz

= = = = = = = = =

.

Che in 2-D

Che in 2-D

http://article.nationalreview.com/?q=MDc4NDNlYTdiMTViOTFiNjk3ZTBkOTE5NmRjM2ExZjA=

The myth, not the man.

By Roger Noriega
April 24, 2009

In the current era of American politics and culture, a book on how
"branding" and images manipulate us is particularly topical. The way
Fidel Castro's totalitarian regime has always gotten a pass from
those who live a safe distance from his tropical gulag is worth a
fresh look, too. In Che's Afterlife, author Michael Casey contributes
to the former task but steers well clear of the latter.

In describing his work, Casey concedes that he has devoted an
extraordinary bit of toil and time to discovering "Che," the icon,
not Ernesto "Che" Guevara, the man. The author clearly has a keen
reporter's eye, unusual insight, and extraordinary attention to
detail. Given his apparent fond fascination for Che, the "heroic
guerrilla," Casey's journalistic skills might have produced a
credible, compelling account of the man behind the myth. The author
should have been capable of producing a valuable history of a man
who, worshipped by millions as a martyr for human liberation, bragged
about being a "bloodthirsty," "cold, killing machine." Instead, Casey
has plumbed the depths of a ubiquitous two-dimensional image ­ the
famous photograph of Guevara by Alberto Korda ­ and made an
exhaustive examination of the origins and propagation of a caricature
rather than a study of the character behind it.

Casey acknowledges the crying need for reflection about whether
Guevara is in fact worthy of worship, but then he pulls up short.
"This is not a debate about the facts surrounding Che's life; rather
it's a question of whether society should idolize a man with such a
record," he asserts.

He then goes on to describe the heroic, even romantic, quality that
the Che myth has taken on in the service of so-called liberation
movements and leftist causes around the world. The "quasi-religious
adoration" Casey inventories is undeniable. But the author's own bias
is clear in his deliberate, jarring comparisons of Che to Jesus
Christ, the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., and Mahatma Gandhi.

There are objective truths about that guerrilla leader, but telling
them would make for a very different book, one that would expose the
wrong-headedness of worshipping a man who sowed mayhem in the service
of an awful cause. Instead, the author derides the "extremist"
"Che-hating" "iconoclasts" who have written about Che in recent years
as being "on a mission to inform" about Guevara's past. A mission to
inform ­ what a wonderful reason to, say, write a book. But Casey
cannot bring himself to offer more than a handful of illustrations of
Che's hate-filled, violent record. Even then, the author presents
these as evidence of Che's fascinating complexity or as examples of
the sore losers among Cuban exiles who are obsessed with telling the
"'true' story" (yes, the sneer quotes are Casey's) and throwing facts
in the way of a good tale.

In a particularly overwrought passage, Casey seeks to absolve Che of
his sins by comparing his foes ­ the likes of Chilean general Augusto
Pinochet and Paraguayan dictator Alfredo Stroessner ­ to Hitler and
Pol Pot. "These militarists made the Guevaristas look like saints and
their violence seem forgivable, even justifiable," the author concludes.

And what of "San Ernesto"? The book offers little new information or
none at all on Che's role in running forced-labor camps, presiding
over summary trials and executions of political enemies and those
suspected of ideological impurity, and building a totalitarian system.

It is interesting but of secondary importance that the "heroic"
visage of Che obscures the true picture of a self-described "killing
machine." The greater shame is the cynical manipulation of the Che
lie in order to romanticize the use of violence in the service of the
most depraved sociopolitical system ever to cast its shadow over humanity.

No doubt Casey would agree that, thanks in large measure to Che
Guevara, Cuba is not like any other country in Latin America. But he
might prefer not to examine in what ways that is so. In terms of
income per capita, caloric intake, availability of independent
newspapers and radio stations, etc., Cuba has dropped from its place
at the top of the list of countries in the region to the bottom.
Perhaps 90,000 Cubans have died as a direct result of Castroism ­
either murdered deliberately or lost at sea in a desperate attempt to
flee the nightmare Che worked to impose. Another 100 million men and
women around the world have lost their lives in the purges, wars, and
famines perpetrated in the service of Communism, Che's ignoble cause.

Millions of Cuban schoolchildren have been indoctrinated in the
dead-end, destructive ideology of Fidel Castro's totalitarian regime.
"We will be like Che," these tots and teens are forced to cry out in
unison, as they appear in public assemblies to demonstrate their
unthinking loyalty to a political system that has stolen the
God-given rights of 11 million Cubans.

"El Che" would be proud. Michael Casey is fascinated. The rest of us
should be appalled.
--

Roger Noriega has held senior Latin America policy positions in the
U.S. government for two decades. He is a visiting fellow at the
American Enterprise Institute and managing director of Vision
Americas, a Washington, D.C., firm that advises domestic and foreign clients.

.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

You Don’t Need a Weatherman to Know Which Way the Wind Blows

You Don't Need a Weatherman to Know Which Way the Wind Blows

http://www.tuneinturnonhelpout.org/2009/04/23/you-dont-need-a-weatherman-to-know-which-way-the-wind-blows/

by Tyler Bejoian, 16 years old, New York, NY

At the conclusion of the 1960s, it seemed as if the world was about
to erupt in a fury of revolution, war, and anger. The ongoing
American occupation of Vietnam was intensifying, and millions of
Vietnamese women and children were routinely slaughtered like wild
dogs for no evident reason. Even though there had been much landmark
legislation for blacks who had been drafted by 1969, many African
Americans continued to endure the stifling burden of
institutionalized American racism. The last two years of the 60's
also saw the shattered expectations and efforts of millions of
activists who had attempted to work peacefully for societal and
political change.

One of the most prominent non-violent protest organizations was the
Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) who had emerged in the early
60's. At the annual SDS convention held in the summer of 1969, a
young and fundamentally radical group was able to claim control of
the crumbling SDS. Attractive and erudite young students, Bernadine
Dohrn and Mike Clonsky, branded themselves as spokesmen for this
organization. They called themselves the Weathermen. At the
convention, delegates were handed a position paper entitled, "You
Don't Need a Weatherman to Know Which Way the Wind Blows." It
outlined the position of the fledgling Weathermen organization that
already seemed almost fanatically committed to these radical ideals.

The early members of the Weathermen proclaimed themselves as the real
leaders of the SDS and totally claimed control of the organization.
The Weathermen derived their name from one of the first electrically
driven Bob Dylan songs, Subterranean Homesick Blues . The name is
found in the memorable stanza, "You don t need a weatherman to know
which way the wind blows." 1 This lyric is vital to understanding the
ideology of the Weather Underground because it suggests that young
people didn't need their congressmen, newsman, or parents to inform
them about what was happening in their world. They could determine
the current state and future of their world independently, and
without the aid of futile and corrupted institutions. The Weathermen
also hoped they could appeal to the students who were inspired to
protest by Dylan s music.

Much of the organization's ideological beliefs were considered to be
Communist to a certain degree. They were absolutely convinced that a
massive worldwide revolution was about to occur and completely
obliterate the status quo. The Weathermen were vehemently opposed
to the wealth disparities that gripped America and excluded virtually
all blacks from entering the privileged white version of the
American dream. They saw the infamous ghetto rebellions 2 which
occurred during 1968, as one of the ultimate indications that a wide
scale liberation was about to take place.
Around the globe, it seemed like persecuted, disenfranchised, and
mistreated citizens were taking action and attempting to fight off
the tyranny of their governments. This universal shift could be seen
in China s Cultural Revolution, the 1968 student revolts in France
and Mexico City, and the Marxist led independent movements throughout
the African continent. This sentiment was best vocalized by Bernadine
Dohrn: "White youth must choose sides now. They must either fight on
the side of the oppressed, or be on the side of the oppressor." 2 One
of the main intentions of the organization was to awaken the docile
American mainstream, and bring the violence and terrorism of Vietnam
into the United States. They first attempted this by unleashing
the Days of Rage protest in the autumn of 1970. In October, they
blew up a public statue in Chicago commemorating the police
casualties of the 19th century Haymarket Riot. The attack was the
first major attempt by the Underground to combat the brutality of the
police force which had continued to unashamedly pulverize dissenters
(violating their First Amendment Rights.)

However, in March 1970, a horrific explosion at a Weathermen safe
house in Greenwich Village resulted in the deaths of three members.
After the incident, the Underground radically reformed their initial
intentions (which included kidnapping, assassinations, and the
acceptability of human casualties.) Famed WUO Bill Ayers remarked,
"We were very careful from the moment of the townhouse on to be sure
we weren't going to hurt anybody, and we never did hurt anybody.
Whenever we put a bomb in a public space, we had figured out all
kinds of ways to put checks and balances on the thing and also to get
people away from it, and we were remarkably successful. 2

In the early 70's, the Underground proceeded to boldly undertake
massive retaliations against the U.S. government. The bombing attacks
were mostly directed at large symbols of the military industrial
complex such as the United States Capitol, Pentagon, and the
Department of State building. Other revolutionary activities included
breaking into government buildings and purloining documents (giving
COINTELPRO a dose of their own medicine) and successfully breaking
the renowned philosopher Timothy Leary out of prison.

By 1976, the Weather Underground had virtually disintegrated and in
1977 the organization officially collapsed. The dissolution could be
attributed to the then recently signed Vietnam Peace accord, and
strife within the organization itself. Many Underground members
(including Dohrn, Ayers, and Jeff Jones) eventually turned themselves
in to authorities and received minimal fines and/or sentences.
However, certain members continued to remain underground.

The organization recently emerged into the limited lens of the
mainstream media when it was verified that President Obama had once
befriended the so-called 'dangerous terrorist,' Bill Ayers. One of
the most significant events to occur in the American media during the
Presidential Election was when Ayers finally decided to appear on
Good Morning America. When a reporter inquired as to whether Ayers
felt repentant, or apologetic for his involvement, he responded,
"Frankly, I don t think we did enough. Just as today, I don t think
we've done enough to stop these wars. And I think we must all
recognize the injustice of it and do more." 3

The most revolutionary aspect of the Weather Underground was not the
supposedly violent acts (in which no one was killed), committed in
the name of peace and protest but something else entirely. It is the
notion that sometimes, what is universally labeled as outrageous and
destructive by our government and media can actually be far more
beneficial than what is considered as legal or normal. Currently we
are engaged in numerous wars, both covert and public, directed
against millions of innocent civilians. To much of planet earth, the
United States is considered a ruinous entity that has been
responsible for the destruction of countless peoples and civilizations.

In 2003, in front of the blinded eyes of the global community, the
U.S. proceeded in illegally invading a powerless country and
slaughtering millions of its citizens. Sound familiar? This is why
Ayer's statement is so undeniably pertinent to our American lives. He
and the rest of the Underground were able to ignite a fundamental and
often neglected capability of the American people. The Underground
reminded us that we have the capability to fight back against the
shameless immorality and brutality orchestrated by our government. We
can become catalysts for true and revolutionary change. We can refuse
to shake the bloody hand of violence extended to us by our elected
officials, and instead become the change our world needs.
--

Sources
1. http://www.bobdylan.com/#/songs/subterranean-homesick-blues
2. The Weather Underground Documentary, 2002.
3. http://freedomswings.wordpress.com/category/obama-associations/
4. http://avalon.law.yale.edu/20th_century/eisenhower001.asp

.

It's 'Celebrate 60s Radicals' Week!

It's 'Celebrate 60s Radicals' Week!

http://theragblog.blogspot.com/2009/04/judy-gumbo-albert-its-celebrate-60s.html

by Judy Gumbo Albert
22 April 2009

In California this week, book signings, an historic poster
exhibition, a theatrical event and a 'Champion of Justice' award all
shine a light on Sixties activists and their progeny.
--

For some cosmic reason, this is Celebrate 1960s
Radicals-And-Our-Children week in California. On Saturday April 18,
in Oakland, I and at least 600 others witnessed my friend Steve
Bingham get the National Lawyers Guild's prestigious Champion of
Justice Award. On Sunday I attended the opening of the Berkeley
Historical Society's "Up Against the Wall" exhibit of 1960's posters
and artifacts. Last night, in downtown Berkeley, former Weatherman
Mark Rudd spoke and signed his long-awaited book Underground.

Friday will be the world premiere in nearby Marin County of Zayd (son
of Weather leaders Bernardine Dohrn and Billy Ayers) Dohrn's play
Magic Forest Farm, advertised as a young woman's journey back to her
past to confront the truth. Next Wednesday, Chesa (raised by
Bernardine and Billy, the son of former Weather person Kathy Boudin
and still imprisoned David Gilbert) Boudin, will be in San Francisco
signing Gringo -- his coming-of-age work which recently provoked a
disgustingly arrogant and mean-spirited review in the New York Times.

Not too shabby for us Bush-battered 1960s types!

It's difficult for me to convey how heart-warming and deeply
emotional Steve's recognition event turned out to be. Steve Bingham,
you may recall, spent almost 14 years underground in Europe after
being charged with five counts of conspiracy murder for allegedly
smuggling a gun past metal detectors into San Quentin so that prison
leader George Jackson could "escape" -- and be shot to death. In 1984
Steve resurfaced in the Bay Area with his wonderful wife Francoise,
and, after a trial lasting six months -- one of the longest, if not
the longest trials ever in the State of California -- Steve was
completely exonerated.

It felt like a miracle seeing this tall, sweet, gentle man, flying
silver hair somewhat trimmed for the occasion, wearing a deep
reddish/pinkish crushed velvet shirt and garlanded with a lei, get a
long, enthusiastic standing ovation recognizing his lifelong
contributions to social justice -- not just the 1960s struggle, or
his survival underground, but also for his last 20 years at Bay Area
Legal Aid protecting the rights of the imprisoned, the poor and the
homeless. For me this was time-travel­back to the day when we proudly
used the words radical and revolutionary as self-descriptors. It felt
a lot like coming home.

Next day, I ran into Gus Newport, the well known African-American
former mayor of Berkeley at the poster exhibit. Many posters came
from the remarkable collection of the late FSM (Free Speech Movement)
activist turned children's science teacher and author Michael
Rossman. One, the Berkeley Liberation Program, is the exact same
poster I gave to the Stew and Judy Gumbo Albert Archives at the
Labadie Collection at University of Michigan. My late husband Stew
Albert, SDS founder Tom Hayden, I, and a large contingent of Berkeley
radicals collectively wrote the Berkeley Liberation Program during
the 1969 People's Park uprising. We begin by making a declaration
that still resonates:
The people of Berkeley passionately desire human solidarity, cultural
freedom and peace.

Gus and I reminisced about how, back in the day, we rarely put the
year on political posters -- just the month and day. We lived so much
in the intensity of the present; we were so busy "making history"
that documenting it by putting the year on a publication was the
furthest thing from our minds.

My favorite long-forgotten artifact was a small pamphlet that Tom,
Stew, I, and others put together in 1969, titled "Every Soldier a
Shitworker, Every Shitworker a Soldier." 1969 was the year that, at
least in Berkeley, Women's Liberation came into full flower. This
tiny handbook was published, as was the Berkeley Liberation Program,
by a collective we named, with no lack of youthful grandiosity, the
"International Liberation School." For a mere 25 cents, young
radicals learned, among other organizational skills, that women and
men must equally share the "shitwork." Good soldiers in the
revolution give women's work equal importance to everything else. So
we believed and so we attempted to act.

At the exhibit I also ran into Mario Savio's widow Lynne Savio
Hollander, and Michael Rossman's widow Karen McClellan. We widows of
well-known 60s guys share a unique bond, but our grieving process is
no different from anyone else­up/down, forward/back, eventually you
survive and thrive, but your life is never the same. Mario, a gentle
soul and truly charismatic speaker was at the center of Berkeley's
1964-65 Free Speech Movement. Every fall Lynn and her fellow FSM'ers
put on the Mario Savio Memorial Lecture at which they award an annual
$6000 prize to a young person or persons with a deep commitment to
human rights, social justice, and proven ability to transform their
commitment into effective action.

Last night was Mark Rudd's turn. I had not seen Mark for ages up
until two years ago, when my fiancé David Dobkin and I had a warm,
affectionate reunion with him and his wife Marla Painter at their New
Mexico home. At the time, Mark said he figured Bernardine and Billy
wouldn't like his book. It's not because of the narcissism that my
dear friend Jonah Raskin called him on in The Rag Blog -- I mean, he
is Mark Rudd, what else do you expect? It's his memoir, he's allowed.
Last night Mark described his trajectory as going from schlemiel to
media darling, to being wanted by the FBI to going underground­but
never truly leaving the schlemiel behind.

I really appreciate Mark's highly personal writing style -- there are
even places where, in my opinion, he could have gone deeper and been
more authentic. Marla said essentially the same thing last night. But
Mark does explore his feelings with way more emotional openness than
Cathy Wilkerson did in Flying Too Close to the Sun -- and for this he
is to be congratulated.

What Bernardine and Billy aren't likely to enjoy about Underground is
Mark spilling his version of the beans about his former friends. He
has his regrets and doesn't especially hold back about who he blames.
I believe that blaming and regretting are part of the grieving
process -- for a while I blamed Stew for dying, for the terrible loss
he inflicted on me. Perhaps this is just Mark's way of channeling his
anguish at all the losses: loss of life in the Townhouse and the
Brinks robbery, the loss of comrades forced underground and those
still in jail, to say nothing of factionalized friendships, lost
youth, and the demise of an organization he so dearly loved. A North
Vietnamese friend once gave me some strategic advice about dealing
with friendships which Mark, perhaps, might have benefitted from: "Be
good to friends who are good to you, also be good to friends who are
bad to you, for only friends will go with you on the long road to revolution."

Mark never considered himself a Yippie. He said last night he lost
his sense of humor pretty early on in SDS. And we Yippies never felt
close to SDS -- we experienced the organization as too serious, too
focused on ideology and, as Yippie leaders Abbie Hoffman and Jerry
Rubin never forgot or forgave, SDS initially advocated not coming to
Chicago for the 1968 protests -- before having a last minute change of heart.

Those who are making the movies and writing the books, memoirs, blogs
and graphic novels will ultimately define our history. As best as I
can reconstruct, both Mark and Cathy Wilkerson believe that, after a
certain amazing moment in which everyone in SDS felt empowered to
change the world, divisive internal conflicts turned the organization
into a cult of isolated, fanatic, self-destructive individuals with,
at least for a time, an ideological commitment to offensive violence.
Both Mark and Cathy say they disagreed in their hearts with this
direction as it was happening, but also went along, victimized by
their own ambivalence.

I've learned in my life that, when more than one person says
essentially the same thing about a shared experience, there's likely
some kernel of truth in what they say. It truly saddens me to
recognize that Weatherman turned into a cult. Romantic idealist that
I am, I prefer to remember historical Weatherman for what it stood
for -- inspirational courage, exemplary risk-taking and a passionate
commitment to ending racism and an immoral, illegal war in Vietnam.

Each one of us from back in the day has her or his own Sixties. Mark
has made a terrific contribution by sharing his. I encourage you to
buy Underground and go to here for his speaking schedule.

On Friday I'll see what Zayd Dohrn's play reveals about the search
for past truths. I'll keep you posted.
--

[Judy Gumbo Albert was an original member of the 1960s
countercultural protest group known as the Yippies -- along with her
late husband Stew Albert who died on Jan. 30, 2006. Judy co-authored
The Sixties Papers: Documents of a Rebellious Decade (Greenwood
Press, 1984) and The Conspiracy Trial (Bobbs-Merrill, 1970). Her
articles available online include "The Battle of Chicago," about the
1968 Democratic Convention, and "What Were Those 1960's Terrorists
Thinking Anyway," about the 1971 Mayday anti-war protests.

Albert currently lives in Berkeley and is writing her memoir titled
Yippie Girl: My Remarkable Adventures with the Yippies, Black
Panthers, North Vietnamese and Weathermen. Judy can be reached at
yippiegirl@gmail.com or through her website yippiegirl.com.]

.

Ayers' flap sparks forum on speech freedom

[5 articles]

Ayers to speak at Brandeis despite dispute over his past

http://www.boston.com/news/local/massachusetts/articles/2009/04/23/ayers_to_speak_at_brandeis_despite_dispute_over_his_past/

By Jenna Nierstedt
April 23, 2009

Former radical William Ayers will get a chance to speak on a
Massachusetts college campus after all.

Two months after Boston College canceled a scheduled appearance by
Ayers, the onetime member of the 1960s militant antiwar organization
the Weather Underground will be at Brandeis University next Thursday
and will be welcomed by students and school administrators.

"This is about freedom of educational opportunity," said Brandeis
spokesman Dennis Nealon. "The university has made it clear that it is
not going to bar the talk despite the controversial nature of the speaker."

Ayers will speak about "lessons learned from the antiwar movement,"
said Lev Hirschhorn, a sophomore and a campaign coordinator for
Democracy for America, one of two student organizations that invited
him. "He might have some interesting insights about the successes and
the failures of the movement."

Now an education professor at the University of Illinois at Chicago,
Ayers was blocked from speaking at Boston College March 30 by school
administrators who cited pressure from Brighton residents and Boston
police officers. Boston police Sergeant Walter Schroeder was killed
during a 1970 bank robbery in Brighton Center by radicals who some
law enforcement officials believed were linked to the Weather
Underground. Ayers was in Chicago during his time in the movement.

Brandeis has its own links to the 1970 shooting. One of Schroeder's
daughters is a police sergeant in Waltham. Two of those involved in
the robbery, Katherine Ann Power and Susan Saxe, were Brandeis
students. One of their accomplices shot Schroeder in the back.

The event will be held at the Shapiro Campus Center and is open to
members of the Brandeis community.

The sponsoring student groups will hold meetings beforehand, on
Monday and Tuesday, to allow members of the university community to
learn more about Ayers and to provide an opportunity to voice support
or opposition to his appearance.

"Bill Ayers is a fairly controversial person undoubtedly, and we
think it's of value if he's coming to speak, for the community to be
able to speak about how they feel about him and the things he will
talk about," said Hirschhorn.

The other sponsor is Students for a Democratic Society. The
organizations said the idea for the invitation goes back to the
presidential election when the campaign of Republican nominee John
McCain accused Barack Obama of having ties to the former radical.

Democracy for America member Liza Behrendt said she brought up the
idea of a lecture by Ayers after the election issue made her
reconsider the meaning of the word activist.

"College activists don't always weigh the process versus the end
goal," said Behrendt, a sophomore studying politics. "This will make
us consider the difference between a goal and a method, how to keep
your actions in line with your values. Bill Ayers won't provide
answers necessarily, but he will spark a conversation and be a
valuable and puzzling figure to ponder."

--------

College visits by Ayers spark controversy

http://www.tuftsdaily.com/college-visits-by-ayers-spark-controversy-1.1720195

Matt Repka
Published: Friday, April 17, 2009

Bill Ayers, the Vietnam-era activist-turned-education-reformer who is
notorious for his membership in the radical Weather Underground
Organization, has been met recently with a mixed reception at
colleges and universities.

As he pursues a round of speaking engagements at colleges across the
country, Ayers has been unable to escape controversy and protest,
sometimes forcing the postponement or cancellation of his lectures.
Brandeis University postponed a lecture, while public outcry and
security concerns forced Boston College (BC) to cancel his scheduled
appearance altogether.

BC, where Ayers was scheduled to speak March 30 about urban education
reform, cancelled the event in the face of protests and threats
directed toward the university and students.

An "emotionally charged reaction" to Ayers posed a threat to the
safety of the student body, specifically to the student organizers
who worked to bring him to campus, according to BC Director of Public
Affairs Jack Dunn.

Ayers, who became a household name last year during the presidential
election due to his connection to now-President Barack Obama, remains
a controversial and polarizing figure. Those on the left see Ayers as
an activist, a political organizer turned education theorist, a
professor at the University of Illinois at Chicago and a leading
voice in the areas of social justice and education policy,
particularly for urban educational reform.

Ayers, however, is also a co-founder of the organization Weather
Underground, which participated in numerous violent acts in protest
of the Vietnam War, including bombings of the Pentagon and the United
States Capitol Building.

Ayers has defended these actions as legitimate acts of protest,
earning him the label of "unrepentant domestic terrorist" from the
right, who hammered then-presidential candidate Obama on his ties to
Ayers. For his part, Obama denies having had anything more than a
tenuous relationship with Ayers.

Ayers' involvement with the Weathermen is a bitter one in Boston,
where Boston Police Sgt. Walter Schroeder died in the course of a
bank robbery in Brighton that had alleged ties to the Weather Underground.

The Weather Underground never claimed responsibility for either the
robbery or the murder of Schroeder and has never been conclusively
linked to the incident. Nonetheless, Ayers' planned BC engagement
prompted a protest from members of Schroeder's family and supporters,
among other groups.

"Many in the Allston-Brighton community continue to associate the
Weather Underground with playing a role in the murder of Boston
Police Sgt. Walter Schroeder," Dunn said.

Following the announced cancellation, students tried to facilitate
Ayers' appearance via videoconference, but the school, citing the
same safety concerns, cancelled that event as well, according to the
student newspaper BC Heights.

"We in academia pride the free expression of ideas, and we recognize
that it is a difficult decision that alienates many on campus, but
our obligation to the safety and well-being of our students has to be
our first concern," Dunn said.

At Brandeis University, student groups including Democracy for
America and Students for a Democratic Society originally scheduled
Ayers to give a talk in late March; it has been postponed to April 30.

According to student newspaper The Brandeis Justice, Ayers' lecture
at the university will focus on issues of activism and social
justice, not education reform.

Many Brandeis students are excited and interested to hear what Ayers
will have to say. "I think the general feeling on campus is
'psyched,'" said Brandeis senior Dan Blynn. "There has been buzz
about it for a few weeks, and I know everyone who I've talked to
about it seems very interested in seeing him speak."

Brandeis Executive Director of Media and Public Affairs Dennis Nealon
said that the university has yet to experience anything approaching
the unrest that occurred at BC. "Safety is always an issue, but I
have not heard of any particular concerns specific to this event
itself," Nealon told the Daily in an e-mail. "We are aware that some
people do take issue with this speaker's past affiliations and
expressed political ideologies.

"I have not heard about or seen a lot of reaction to this planned
visit," he added.

In another example of the public controversy surrounding Ayers'
speaking tour, school officials canceled Ayers' discussion of his
Weather Underground activities at Naperville North High School in
Naperville, Ill. on April 8.

At Pitzer College in Claremont, Calif., Ayers successfully held a
discussion on both education and social activism on April 6. The
event did, however, prompt some protests outside the student center.

--------

Ayers' flap sparks forum on speech freedom

http://www.dailyherald.com/story/?id=287107

By Melissa Jenco | Daily Herald Staff
4/17/2009

The emotions sparked by the scheduled appearances of controversial
author Bill Ayers in Naperville earlier this month will have a formal
outlet Monday.

Anderson's Bookshop is holding a forum on freedom of speech to
discuss the backlash that caused Ayers' appearances at the store and
Naperville North High School to be canceled.

"We hope to accomplish that people, no matter how they felt about the
issue, maybe we can have a civil discourse on this and realize
freedom of speech not only in the country but in Naperville is very
important," said Becky Anderson, co-owner of the bookstore. "We're
not asking people to change their minds, but maybe understand each
other better."

The event is at 7 p.m. Monday, April 20, at the bookshop, 123 W.
Jefferson Ave. in downtown Naperville. The event is free and no
reservations are required.

Ayers, a University of Illinois-Chicago education professor, gained
notoriety in the 1960s and 70s when he co-founded the Weather
Underground, an anti-Vietnam war group responsible for a series of
bombings at public buildings. He had faded from the spotlight until
his ties to President Barack Obama were called into question during
the November election.

Ayers was scheduled to speak at both Naperville North High School and
Anderson's Bookshop on April 8 but when the community learned of his
impending appearances, some residents flooded Naperville Unit
District 203 and Anderson's with angry phone calls and e-mails. On
newspaper Web sites, commenters repeatedly referred to Ayers as a terrorist.

The controversy that erupted prompted both District 203 and
Anderson's to cancel the events.

"It literally made me sick to make that decision," Anderson said.

But store employees had become concerned about the responses they
were receiving from what she calls "a very vocal minority who
expressed themselves very hysterically."

"I was shocked by the reaction by some people, and to tell you the
truth, it went nationwide what happened here," Anderson said. "People
were looking at Naperville like what's wrong with Naperville ...
people can't have civil discourse and behave like this."

Ayers has discussed the controversy with the Daily Herald. He said he
has never hurt or killed anyone and has been inaccurately portrayed
by his critics.

Monday's forum will be moderated by Stephen Maynard Caliendo,
associate professor of political science at North Central College.
There will be both a panel discussion and a chance for public participation.

Panelists include Jane Barnes, president of the Naperville League of
Women Voters; Keith Carlson, Naperville Central High School
communication arts teacher and Central Times student newspaper
adviser; and Steve Macek, associate professor of speech communication
and coordinator of urban and suburban studies at North Central
College. Additional panelists may include a student representative of
the Naperville North High School student newspaper and two other
community members.

While Ayers won't be in attendance Monday, Anderson said she would
eventually like to invite him and his wife Bernardine Dohrn, also a
'60s-era activist and now associate professor of law at Northwestern
University, to talk about the book they wrote on race relations.

"It's a book that does good," Anderson said. "If people bother to
find that out, we could have a great discussion about it."

--------

Anderson's to host free speech forum

http://www.suburbanchicagonews.com/napervillesun/news/1533375,Andersons-host-free-speech-forum_na041809.article

April 19, 2009
From Staff Reports

Anderson's Bookshop will host an evening of discussion on free speech
at 7 p.m. Monday, moderated by Dr. Stephen Maynard Caliendo,
associate professor of political science at Naperville's North
Central College.

On hand will be a panel of experts representing diverse viewpoints to
discuss free speech and the recent controversy about Bill Ayers and
Bernardine Dohrn's canceled visit to Naperville. A period of public
participation will be included.

The event takes place at Anderson's Bookshop, 123 W. Jefferson Ave.
in downtown Naperville. No reservations are required for the free program.

"Just bring your ideas," said Becky Anderson, co-owner of the
longtime family-owned bookstore. "We want people to come in and have
a civil examination of issues stirred up by the scheduled appearance,
and subsequent cancellation, of the Ayers and Dohrn event."

That initial event, which had been arranged for April 8, was canceled
after it met with vigorous opposition via repeated phone calls and
angry e-mails that resulted in concerns about the safety of
Anderson's customers and staff.

The plug was pulled two days before the scheduled event with Ayers, a
professor of education at the University of Illinois ­ Chicago, who
was a '60s political activist and radical leader of the Weathermen
Underground. Also slated to join him was his wife, Bernardine Dohrn,
a fellow Vietnam-era reformer, today the director of the Children and
Family Law Justice Center and a clinical associate professor of law
at Northwestern University .

Anderson said the new program is being offered as a "town
meeting-style outlet for examining how respectful discourse can
enrich our lives and our community." Monday's forum, to be led by
Caliendo, will feature panelists Jane Barnes, president of the
Naperville League of Women Voters; Keith Carlson, Naperville Central
High School's communication arts teacher and Central Times student
newspaper faculty adviser, and Steve Macek, associate professor of
speech communication and coordinator of urban and suburban studies at
North Central College. Additional panelists may include a student
representative of Naperville North High School's North Star student
newspaper and two other community members whose participation has not
yet been confirmed.

For more information, contact Anderson's Bookshop in Naperville at
630-355-2665.

--------

Spurned ex-radical speaks on BC radio

http://www.boston.com/news/local/massachusetts/articles/2009/04/17/spurned_ex_radical_speaks_on_bc_radio/

April 17, 2009

Two weeks after Boston College administrators rescinded an invitation
by student groups for Weather Underground Organization co-founder
Bill Ayers to speak on campus, he was interviewed on a student-run
radio show last night without a glitch. Ayers called in to the weekly
WVBC Internet radio show "Blowback with Steve and Bill in the
Afternoon" at 5 p.m. and answered three questions, ranging from his
opinion of Teach for America to his relationship with the Weather
Underground. Calling it "by far our most popular broadcast," cohost
Steve Wagner, a senior, said the online link reached its capacity of
20 listeners. School officials did not return a call seeking comment.

.

Revisionist Views Can’t Override Long Racial Legacy

[2 articles]

It's Bill Parker's Time to Walk Off the Stage of History

http://www.tothecenter.com/index.php?readmore=9481

By LIONEL ROLFE
April 16 2009

Los Angeles is debating whether its new police administration
building in downtown should bear the name of William Parker, the
police chief from the '50s whose name has adorned the old building at
150 N. Los Angeles St. for more than half a century.

One former police chief, Bernard Parks, asked to preserve Parker's
name on the new building going up a couple of blocks or so away. A
conservative black man who joined the department in the '60s, he rose
through the ranks, like Tom Bradley, except Bradley became one of the
city's great mayors. Over issues of corruption, a successor replaced Parks.

The man who replaced Parks, William Bratton, came to Los Angeles from
back east, and was obviously a different sort of cat. Bratton, a
white man, thinks Parker's name should not be used on the new
building. He doesn't want to perpetuate the memory of those unpleasant times.

Parker was maybe the city's most famous and infamous police chief. A
lot of his image came from the famed television cop serial, Dragnet.

Parker was an unabashed racist, a fact I learned personally when I
was a student at Los Angeles City College in the '60s. I frequented
the Xanadu, a coffeehouse on Melrose Avenue on the south side of the
campus next to the Lithuanian Cultural Center. Folks like Jack
Nicholson and Dorothy Parker came by. Something unthinkable was
occurring at the Xanadu in those days. The black and white
intellectuals of the period were hanging out together against a
background that included some of the greatest blues musicians
casually playing for their own pleasure. Political activists mixed
with the writers and musicians and actors there and inevitably it
attracted Parker's concern. It was becoming a central point for
people going south to register blacks to vote as well as a hang for
folks whose primary goal in life was to play chess.

It was a deadly combination as far as Parker was concerned.

In addition, the Los Angeles Free Press, or "Freep" as it was called,
which had a significant impact on the circulation of the Los Angeles
Times, was born out of discussions at the Xanadu. The "Freep" came to
be the nation's first underground newspapers in the '60s, responsible
for the creation of the so-called counterculture that spread across the nation.

Parker's contribution to all this was to make it impossible to walk
out the front door of the Xanadu together with a person of the other
color, and certainly not of the opposite sex. Parker's goons would be
waiting to throw the Xanadu's patrons up against a wall or the radio
car's fenders, or take them downtown to the "glass house," as Parker
Center was known then.

If Sheriff Bull Connor was the essence of the brutal baton-wielding
cop of the Old South, L.A.'s Bill Parker was strong competition. He
was an unreconstructed enemy of civil rights and about as open a
racist as they came.

Today, Parker's "Glass House" has squatted in the shadow of Los
Angeles City Hall for more than half a century and it has been badly
diminished by time. Somehow no longer being shiny and new made it
lose that sense of brutal power it had originally exuded.

But in Parker's time, it was an imposing pile. No walls were visible,
only darkened glass, meaning the public couldn't see in but the cops
could see out. In its basement, a rogue cop or two hid purloined
cocaine. Over the years, the cockroaches and rats took the building
over as they boldly scurried around the premises. The air
conditioning only worked when it was cold, and the heating when it was hot.

In recent years, there had been talks about tearing the whole place
down. For one thing, it's earthquake fodder waiting to happen. The
way it was designed in the '50s makes it a death trap. It is unlikely
to survive the next big trembler. Still, someone voted to preserve it
rather than tear it down, which for many reasons would have been a
much better idea.

Even in the early days of the counterculture, most of the public's
perception of Parker was formed by the imagery of Dragnet's "just the
facts, ma'am" and the local headlines about Parker "running the Mob
out of town." There was plenty of corruption in the old LAPD, but at
least it wasn't being run by Jewish and Italian muscle. The wops and
kikes were regarded as better than the niggers, but not by much, in
those old Parker days.

Parker saw anyone fighting for the rights of oppressed people as
communists. That's why his goons greeting you at the door of the
Xanadu were never black, although a few black officers had been hired
for the ghetto. Most of those at the Xanadu were towering white guys
with blond hair and blue eyes who invariably seemed to come from
Oklahoma or Orange County.

Still, Parker got his comeuppance one day in an elevator going to his
executive office on the sixth floor. The unspoken but very real rule
in those days was that blacks weren't allowed above the second floor.

But one day, a woman who had been assigned to the stenographer pool
got assigned to the executive offices on the sixth floor. She got in
the elevator with Parker. Parker himself leaned over to press the
second floor stop to let her off at her appropriate floor. The
elevator stopped, but she didn't get off. Parker and his aides looked
at each other, but said nothing. The woman ended up riding with
Parker to the sixth floor and then got off and went to her new job.

It's not clear if her promotion had been inadvertent or purposeful.
But this is how the sixth floor ban on blacks ended. Of course,
Parker Center was still loaded with racism even after the hiring of
one stenographer. Racism didn't end with the hiring of a few black
and brown officers either. Police Chief Bernard Parks and Mayor Tom
Bradley suggested this.

Another black cop hired in that period later became a detective and
when he recently retired he told me how his first assignment had been
to frame Black Panthers for nefarious activities that actually
belonged to the schemers on the upper floors of Parker Center.

The detective said that Panthers were hardly hardened criminal types
but mostly intellectuals and dreamers. Yet they were portrayed on the
front pages as the greatest villains of the sixties. He said that a
lot of the skewed coverage targeted white people, convincing them
that their worst fears about sex-crazed angry "niggers" were true.

The truth, he said, was that the Panther's so-called violent
tendencies were mostly dreamed up by the diabolical brass. The
detective understood what he was doing and sometimes felt regret and
guilt over what he'd done during his career. He said that his
superiors gave him "permission" to kill in carrying out his
anti-Panther activities. He chose not to do this.

Yet somehow, the stenographer's trip up the elevator was more than
symbolical. It set the stage for real changes.

The department's racism in the Parker era was only the culmination of
a process that began with the department's subservience to the
proprietors of the Los Angeles Times, which in those days was the
city's most powerful single institution. The Times' proprietors saw
the Los Angeles Police Department primarily as its own army against
labor organizers.

All of this is not a pretty picture. It's a part of L.A.'s history
that has strutted itself on stage, and now should take its bows and
leave, forever. It might satisfy someone's primeval urges to
perpetuate Parker's name in something other than infamy, but not on
the entrance to a police building in the new Millennium.
--

Lionel Rolfe is the author of several books, including Literary L.A.
and The Uncommon Friendship of Yaltah Menuhin and Willa Cather.
These, and others of his books, will soon be available on Amazon's Kindle.

--------

The "New" William H. Parker Center Controversy:
Revisionist Views Can't Override Long Racial Legacy

http://www.blackcommentator.com/321/321_btl_new_parker_center_printer_friendly.html

By Dr. Anthony Asadullah Samad, PhD
April 23, 2009

The City of Los Angeles is about to unveil its brand new "state of
the art" world-class headquarters for what it considers its
world-class law enforcement agency. Just know there's one too many
"world-class" attributes in that last sentence, and given the latest
controversy­the public should decide where the "world-class"
attribute should actually go. A month ago, our city's resident
narcissist, former LAPD Police Chief and current Eighth District City
Councilman. Bernard Parks, motioned that the new LAPD headquarters
carry the same name as the old LAPD headquarters, that of former
police chief, the late William H. Parker. Yes, go ahead and blink
twice on that one. It's as ridiculous and outrageous as you read it.

Parks rationalization, if you want to call it that, was that Parker
was responsible for transforming LAPD into a "world class" law
enforcement agency. Uh-huh. Despite efforts to romanticize the Parker
era, which ran from 1950 to 1966, almost anybody who lived in Los
Angeles during that period remember what it was like to have an
encounter with LAPD. The first time I ever saw my father disrespected
by another man in was a white LAPD officer on a so-called routine
traffic stop because we were on the "wrong side of town." Over forty
years later, I still have an aversion to police officers-based on
that experience. Revisionist history aside, how William H. Parker was
is not what Los Angeles, or LAPD, wants to be known as today.

Who was William H. Parker? Yes, he did "transform" LAPD. From an
urban western, up-south "Mayberry" police force, to a para-military
organization based on his own military. William H. Parker was an
urban segregationist, no different from Bull Connor or Jim Clark down
in Alabama. Parker enforced racial protocols and Los Angeles' race
caste system that held until the early seventies (some say the
mid-80s as far as the valley areas go). Los Angeles didn't have the
outright de jure segregation (separation by law) that the South had,
but it did have racial restrictive covenants that prohibited blacks
and others from renting and buying in certain areas long after the
courts ruled them illegal in 1948. Where do you think "getting caught
on the wrong side of town" came from in Los Angeles? It came from
Parker's willingness to enforce unwritten racial boundaries that kept
blacks from going too far west of Western Ave., or above the 10
Freeway after dark, and the worst encounter a black or Latino could
experience was not from white ruffians but from the police enforcing
racial boundaries.

Parker recruited marines and army personnel after tours of duty and
he recruited Southern white males who had a certain racial view of
the world, then he put on the streets of Los Angeles. The mentality
was pervasive and abusive, and corrupt to its very core. Police beat
black and Latino residents, assaulted their women, and governed by
fear and intimidation in the same way they did in the South. South
Central and East L.A. became known for where blacks and Latinos
lived, not because they wanted to-but because of de facto segregation
(separation by social norms and residential patterns) that was
desired by the "city fathers" and enforced by the Chief of Police,
kept minorities "in their place" (geographical boundaries). Parker
was "their man" and his racially distorted views of blacks didn't
allow for promotions in the department and a culture that was as
discriminating within as it was without. "To protect and serve" only
applied to white people and he didn't have a problem saying that as
long as blacks and Latinos stayed "in their place," they would be
served too. Most of the time, they were served up.

It was a politic corrupt at it's very core, and Los Angeles burned
twice in 27 years because of its lasting mentality. Even FBI
Director, J. Edgar Hoover, stated he had "no use" for the man (and
few had any use Hoover at that point) because Parker refused federal
intervention when his policing policies were called into question.
Parker was the symbol for western "Jim Crow" and both his successor,
Daryl Gates, and obviously Gates' mentee, Bernard Parks, wanted to be
like Chief Parker when they grew up. It's a badge they both wore
proudly, to have been mentored by Parker. History having proven the
abusiveness and corruptness of LAPD's policing politic and codes of
silence, there's something to be said for that. Now they want to put
that badge on the new headquarters. It might be a badge of pride for
them, but it's not for the rest of us. We remember a totally
different William H. Parker. One who couldn't even call black people,
Negroes. He called them "Nigras" in public-so you know what he called
them in private--what his officers called them in the streets of Los
Angeles. Revisionist views can't over-ride the racial legacy of LAPD.

The transformation of LAPD into a racially abusive para-military
organization is the legacy of William H. Parker. If LAPD is really
trying to establish a "new" image, the "new" police headquarters will
not have William H. Parker's name on it. It's an insult to any
minority who lived in Los Angeles during the Parker years. It's
insane the proposal is even being considered.

.

Review of Diana Block's "Arm the Spirit"

A Review of Diana Block's "Arm the Spirit"

http://www.counterpunch.org/jacobs04032009.html

Artifacts for Survival

By RON JACOBS
April 3-5, 2009

In a nation like the United States, where history is not only
forgotten, but intentionally suppressed, it is no surprise that most
US residents do not understand the Puerto Rico is a colony of
Washington. Consequently, it is also no surprise that very few
people in the US know about the movement against Washington's
colonization and for Puerto Rican independence. Of those who are
aware of the situation, many are convinced that the movement for
Puerto Rican independence is composed of nothing but a few dozen
"terrorists" who deserve to spend the rest of their lives in
prison. Of those who actually support the independentista movement,
many would be surprised that its members and supporters include folks
different nationalities and backgrounds.

Diana Block's recently published book Arm the Spirit: A Woman's
Journey Underground and Back is the personal tale of one such
supporter. A white North American women involved in the feminist,
lesbian and gay rights and new left movements in the United States of
the 1970s primarily as a member of the Prairie Fire Organizing
Committee (PFOC) , Ms. Block joined forces with other white North
Americans to support the endeavors of the Fuerzas Armadas de
Liberación Nacional (FALN ) in its endeavor to free Puerto Rico. Her
support resulted in several years underground as the result of her
partner's entrapment in an FBI sting operation. The tale she tells
in these pages is the story of those years and the decisions and
circumstances that brought her to them. It is also the story of her
family's lives underground. For those who were involved in or at
least paid attention to the left in the 1970s and 1980s there will be
descriptions of moments that jog the memory. For those that didn't,
this will open their eyes to the reality that existed within Ronald
Reagan's morning in America.

This is a very political book. It is also a very personal book. It
is about lives determined as much by one's political beliefs as they
are by personal emotions and about the juncture between the two. It
is about very political people in an apolitical time. Many of those
who had been involved in the antiwar and antiracist moments of the
1960s and 1970s were moving their lives into more conventional arenas
that involved making money and buying things. Others, meanwhile, had
drifted deeper into the life of the street and poverty, leaving their
political personas behind in the daily struggle to
survive. Meanwhile, the men and women involved in leftist groups
like Prairie Fire Organizing Committee were existing on the fringes
of US society trying to figure out how to maintain a political
relevance. It may have been that existence on the outside that
colored the decisions they made: going underground when they maybe
should have involved themselves in a more public type of organizing;
adopting immovable positions that alienated them from other groups
with similar agendas, to name a couple such decisions.

Block's memories of that period are consistently evocative and
occasionally emotionally wrenching, compelling the reader to stay
glued to the text. Her reflections on the thoughts about how the
decisions made by her and her partner Claude Marks affected the lives
of their children and families reveal caring and thoughtful parents
whose politics are motivated by a love as deep as the love they have
for those closest to them. They also provide an insight into the
difficulties involved in living a life of resistance inside the belly
of the imperial beast that is the United States. To put it
succinctly, it is safe to say that Arm the Spirit is about the
multitude of forms love takes: familial, romantic, comradely and
revolutionary. It is also about the difficulties we face trying to
meet the ideals these loves represent, especially when they come into
conflict with one another.

Besides the aforementioned political and emotional realities revealed
in this book, there are the descriptions of daily life on the
run. Periods of normalcy when you and your family are as normal as
the neighbors next door interrupted by days and weeks of uncertainty
tinged with fear after your picture makes the FBI's Ten Most
Wanted. Joy and tears as you wrestle with how much information you
should share with your maturing child.

Genuine friendships made under assumed names that must be broken when
the presence of the law gets too near. The frustrations felt because
your political self can not speak out when the Empire attacks for
fear you will be recognized and taken away in chains. The decision
to finally give up your underground status and face the courts. The
period of adjustment to once again using your family name and living
as the person you couldn't be while underground.

Politically, Block's experiences as a revolutionary and a woman lead
her to a conclusion perhaps best expressed by the writer and
revolutionary Margaret Randall: that the inability of almost all
twentieth-century revolutionary movements to develop a feminist
agenda contributed to their failure to evolve new and equitable forms
of power sharing that might have helped keep them alive. The period
of adjustment mentioned in the previous paragraph provokes some
other interesting observations by Block. Foremost among them are her
observations regarding the changes in the progressive movement in the
1970s and the movement today, especially her remarks that much of the
work formerly done by organizations with no financial portfolio now
being done by what she calls the nonprofit industrial complex.

The shortcomings of this movement are even more apparent today as
funding for these nonprofits dries up in the wake of the economic
shocks throughout the capitalist world. This factor doesn't even
touch the political timidity of many of today's organizations--a
timidity certainly influenced by their need to gather money from
beneficiaries of the very system whose excesses and wrongs they hope
to remedy.

One other insightful observation is that, despite the multitude of
single issue movements and organizations, many of the groups and
individuals involved have no underlying philosophy to bind these
issues together and present a systemic analysis that would propel the
struggle for economic and social justice forward. Although Block
does not examine this much further, it is clear that she sees the
need to develop and provide that analysis as part of the role of her
and others involved in the struggles of the latter half of the
twentieth century. After all, the fundamentals of that analysis are
the same as those the left has always referred to. The economic
crisis of capitalism and the wars of Washington make that clear.
--

Ron Jacobs is author of The Way the Wind Blew: a history of the
Weather Underground, which is just republished by Verso. Jacobs'
essay on Big Bill Broonzy is featured in CounterPunch's collection on
music, art and sex, Serpents in the Garden. His first novel, Short
Order Frame Up, is published by Mainstay Press. He can be reached at:
rjacobs3625@charter.net

.

Hot Burritos: The True Story of the Flying Burrito Brothers

Hot Burritos: The True Story of the Flying Burrito Brothers

http://www.popmatters.com/pm/review/72444-hot-burritos-the-true-story-of-the-flying-burrito-brothers-by-john-ei/

Hot Burritos: The True Story of the Flying Burrito Brothers
by John Einarson with Chris Hillman
Jawbone
30 November 2008, 336 pages, 19.95

by Tom Useted
22 April 2009

The story of the Flying Burrito Brothers, probably best known as the
bridge between the Byrds and Gram Parsons' solo career, is brief and
oft-told. Any biography of Parsons­and there have been many, most
notably by Ben Fong-Torres, Sid Griffin, and David Meyer­will delve
into the relevant period of the Burritos' history. But, as Parsons'
tenure with the pioneering country-rock outfit was abbreviated, those
books have told only half the story.

John Einarson's new biography of the Burrito Brothers, written with
co-founder and longest-serving original member Chris Hillman,
attempts to redress the oversight of the post-Parsons band by
following their story to its conclusion. But that's not its only
goal. Hillman says in the introduction, "Certainly Gram's mystique
has overshadowed me. I know that. He overshadows all of us in the
Burritos, even if we've gone on to bigger careers since, like Bernie
[Leadon] in the Eagles. I don't want to dwell on it. It just is what
it is." And yet Hillman also calls Parsons "the Paris Hilton of rock
'n' roll," and all but dismisses the entirety of his output: his
vocals on the Byrds' Sweetheart of the Rodeo "aren't that good."

The only Burritos-era Parsons songs worthy of high praise are "Hot
Burrito #1" and "Hot Burrito #2", and of his solo albums Hillman
says: "Some of it makes my skin crawl. It's just bad country music."
The song "$1000 Wedding", which is usually held up as an example of
Parsons at his very best, comes in for particularly harsh criticism
from Hillman on several occasions. Einarson even adds: "It's not one
of his finest hours, and the decision to take it out of contention
for the second Burritos album, despite a scarcity of material, was a
wise one." I suspect you'd be hard pressed to find many Parsons or
Burrito Brothers fans who agree with that point of view.

It's true that the Cult of Parsons has grown considerably over the
last decade or so, with CD reissues, books, documentaries, and the
mildly amusing comedy Grand Theft Parsons appearing to capitalize on
his commercial viability. And that must get frustrating for someone
like Chris Hillman, who worked hard for years with absolute
professionalism, didn't die at 26, and will probably never get the
attention he deserves. He says he doesn't "want to dwell on it," but
come on. Hot Burritos is the obvious result of Hillman (via Einarson)
dwelling on it for 300 pages, winding up with a pathetic-sounding
plea for induction into the rock and country halls of fame.

And what a long 300 pages it is at times. It's obvious that Einarson
talked to everyone he could, and this range of voices gives the book
a thoroughness that will probably make it the definitive version of
the Burrito Brothers' story. On the downside, it's also an
occasionally sloppy and often redundant book. Aside from any number
of careless typos, simple editing would've caught references to
"Seals and Croft" and "John Prince" (alleged author of "There's a
Needle in Daddy's Arm Where All the Money Goes", better known as "Sam
Stone"), and repeated references to the post-Burritos trio of
"Souther, Hillman and Furay" are irritating if you know that that
group was actually called "The Souther-Hillman-Furay Band." Einarson
could have thrown a [sic] in there every once in awhile if he didn't
want to correct a quote. But he doesn't, and the result is that the
book just seems like it needed an editor.

Perhaps more frustrating are the redundancies, because they probably
tack 50 unnecessary pages onto the book: the multiple references to
the latter-day Burritos as "a dead horse," the brief biography of
Buffalo Springfield on page 276 long after we first heard about them
(according to the index it's the book's ninth reference to that
group), the tired use of the "too rock for country, too country for
rock" cliche, all the mentions of how the Eagles took what the
Burritos and others started and used it to make money, and more. And
sometimes this stuff happens only paragraphs apart. It seems like
Einarson was more eager to include multiple perspectives, no matter
how much they overlapped, than he was to craft a flowing narrative.

Hot Burritos does go further than any other book out there in terms
of its coverage of the post-Parsons Burrito Brothers­the last third
of the book takes place after Parsons was sacked­but it's
questionable whether there's much of an audience for the final
chapters. Einarson and Hillman can try all they want to make the case
for the third and fourth Burrito Brothers albums, and criticize the
"roughness" of The Gilded Palace of Sin, but there aren't many
listeners who are going to agree. Selling the majority of readers on
the idea that Parsons was the weak link in the original band is going
to be practically impossible, especially when Parsons fans are the
folks most likely to pick up Hot Burritos in the first place. If they
have access to the music itself, they're likely to hear soullessness
in the latter-day albums where Hillman hears consummate
professionalism, and a whole lot of heart in the Parsons records
(particularly Gilded Palace) where Hillman hears missed opportunities
and flaws, particularly those of Gram Parsons.

It's all a matter of perspective, and although Hillman's is long
overdue, it also comes across too often as a mean-spirited attempt to
knock Parsons off his pedestal. I suspect it won't work in the long run.

.

Jonah Raskin on Chesa Boudin's 'Gringo'

Jonah Raskin on Chesa Boudin's 'Gringo'

http://theragblog.blogspot.com/2009/04/books-jonah-raskin-on-chesa-boudins.html

16 April 2009

Chesa rarely if ever takes anything or anyone for granted, least of
all his own privilege. He looks behind the scenes, asks difficult
questions and gets underneath social pretense, hypocrisy and phoniness.
--

[Gringo: A Coming of Age in Latin America, Chesa Boudin; Simon &
Schuster; $25.]

One-word book titles can pack a lot of wallop. Dick Gregory's
autobiography, Nigger, did, and so did Dalton Conley's Honky, his
memoir about growing up as a white boy in a largely black world in
New York. Chesa Boudin's Gringo conveys a lot of force in its one
word title, too. The book itself often pulses along with the power of
the Amazon, a river that the author explored on one of his many
adventurers across Latin America. Yes, that's an exaggeration, but
the book calls for it. Part memoir, part reportage, Gringo offers a
close look at life in Guatemala, Chile, Argentina, Brazil, Bolivia,
Columbia, Ecuador and Venezuela.

In part, Chesa has followed in the footsteps of Che Guevara who
traveled across the continent when he was a medical student, and
wrote about his journey in The Motorcycle Diaries, a riveting story
that was made into a movie. Since Chesa is a North American ­- a
"gringo" ­- he inevitably sees South America through different,
though no less valuable, eyes than Che's. Like Che, he has the gift
of empathy. He's also a reliable journalist.

Chesa rarely if ever takes anything or anyone for granted, least of
all his own privilege. He looks behind the scenes, asks difficult
questions and gets underneath social pretense, hypocrisy and
phoniness. Of the dangers of dogma, ideology and partisanship he is
also well aware, but that awareness does not prevent him from
reaching out to people he meets along the way, and getting to know
them intimately well. He looks at himself and sees himself clearly as
an individual, and also as a representative of the culture of which
he is a part, and from which he is also in flight. Sometimes he seems
too honest, too transparent and vulnerable. But he doesn't cover up
or dissemble.

The story of his birth in 1980, and his childhood, would make a book
in and of itself. He tells the outline of the tale in Chapter Two,
"Border Crossings." His biological parents, Kathy Boudin and David
Gilbert, took part in October 1981 in a bungled attempt to rob a
Brinks Armored Vehicle carrying $1.6 million. Three people were
killed. His parents were arrested and sentenced to 25 and 75 years in
prison. Two of their friends, Bill Ayers and Bernardine Dohrn, took
him into their family and became his parents. All that personal
history he sometimes found difficult to convey to people he met in
South America. Others seemed to grasp it immediately and to embrace
him all the more readily because of it.

As a North American who lived in Mexico in 1975, along with Abbie
Hoffman, who was in flight from the law, I was always conscious of
being a "gringo," and so was Abbie. Perhaps because we both had dark
hair, dark eyes and olive complexions no one ever called us
"gringos." But that did not stop us from seeing ourselves that way
and, though we tried to escape our identities as "gringos," it was
never easy. Chesa was called a "gringo," sometimes affectionately,
sometimes not. He knows the power of words like "gringo," "nigger,"
"honky" and "Yankee." Sensitive to language, and to nuances of
expression, he pays particular attention to the different ways
Spanish is spoken in all the many places he visited, studied and
worked. Sometimes he is a tourist; at other times he is a traveler,
and on still other occasions, he is a later-day Beat voyager.

Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg would recognize him instantly with
his beard and backpack at the back of the bus. They would beckon him
to join the Beat brotherhood of adventurers who wanted to get away
from the American colossus, and to live side-by-side, in Mexico and
in Morocco, with the "fellaheen," as Kerouac always called them, by
which he meant the lost, the lonely, and the dispossessed men, women
and children of humanity who are everywhere in our midst. "Gringo"
and "fellaheen": they are world's apart, and yet they are ever so
close. Chesa Boudin brings them close together in his new and
wonderful book about life on the road in this, our 21st century.
--

Dancing Into the World:
An Interview with Chesa Boudin

By Jonah Raskin / The Rag Blog / April 16, 2009

JR: With the name "Chesa," I assume that it derives somehow from Che Guevara.

CB: Actually, Chesa comes from the Swahili verb Ku-Chesa that means
to dance or to play. I was born feet first and my dad said it looked
like I came dancing into the world.

JR: You have two dads and two moms, don't you? How has that been to
have two sets of parents?

CB: To their great credit it has mostly been double the love, double
the support. Obviously there are aspects that are difficult but those
are mostly related to the nature of maintaining relationships from
the distance incarceration creates, not the reality of having two
sets of parents.

JR: Your grandfather Leonard Boudin was a lawyer ­- for the Cuban
government, for a time. You're in your second semester at Yale Law
School. What's next?

CB: I am not exactly sure, but maybe something to do with
international human rights law. I'm also interested in labor and immigration.

JR: In your book Gringo in which you describe your travels from
Guatemala to Ecuador, you say you have traveled to more than 80 countries.

CB: It's up to more than 90 countries now, ever since I traveled from
Istanbul to Shanghai by land from March to July 2008. I went from one
side of Asia to another and I saw a lot of commonalities between
countries that I had thought of as being totally cut off from each
other. That was eye opening.

JR: You speak English and Spanish and what other languages?

CB: Portuguese, and I pick up other languages, too, when I travel.

JR: When I was growing up they called people like you
"internationalists" or "world citizens."

CB: Yes, I know those terms. Labels are complicated, and identity is
so multidimensional. I suppose I see myself as a kind of travel expert.

I prefer land travel, and I like adventures on the road.

JR: What do you take with you when you travel?

CB: In 1999 when I went on my first solo trip out of the USA I had a
cheap camera, a Walkman and sunglasses. I traveled with the idea that
if I lost anything on the way I wouldn't be upset. Recently I went
with a friend who had a laptop, and that came in handy.

JR: Do you have a Blog?

CB: I don't. I write book reviews for Truth Dig and articles for The Nation.

JR: In Venezuela you worked for Hugo Chavez's government. Are you
now, or have you ever been a Chavista?

CB: I have criticisms of the Chavez government that the Chavistas
don't welcome. There is a lot of corruption in Venezuela and a lot of
crime in the streets. The government has not made genuine progress in
those two areas, and recently Chavez devoted a lot of time and energy
to reforming the Constitution so he could stay in office longer,
legally. I thought they should have spent more time developing new leadership.

JR: If Che Guevara were alive today how do you think he'd feel?

CB: He'd be excited about the possibilities for change all over Latin
America. There has been a shift away from following the dictates of
Washington D.C. and toward more independent leadership.

JR: Ought we to give Che himself credit for some of these positive changes?

CB: He's an inspiration all over Latin America. In Bolivia people
still talk about him. He did make strategic errors in Bolivia that
led to his death.

JR: Would he be a guerrilla today?

CB: Well he'd be pretty old and it would be hard to survive in the
jungle, though he was a tough fellow.

JR: Would he be an elder statesman and involved in a Latin American government?

CB: Democracy is being reinvented in Bolivia, Venezuela and
elsewhere. Ecuador isn't as far along in its own process but it's
coming along. All over the continent there is more grass roots
participation in political movements than there has been for a very
long time. Che gets some of the credit for that.

JR: Can you see a time when there might be guerrilla movements again?

CB: Right now there is no need for guerilla movements. If the masses
of people are able to be included in the political process there will
be less likelihood of guerrilla violence in the future.

JR: Is President Obama making a break with old patterns of North
American interference?

CB: He is taking steps in the right direction. He just relaxed travel
restrictions to Cuba, and that's a good thing. That would have been
unthinkable under Bush. But of course, the hard-line leftists in
Latin America think he represents the imperialist state.

JR: Is the American Empire in crisis now?

CB: The financial meltdown is a sign of the crisis. And the shift in
power in Latin America is another sign. Those things are evidence, I
would say, that U.S imperialism is stressed. But at the same time I
would have to say that it is an amazingly resilient system. The
American Empire is not likely to collapse in your lifetime and
perhaps not in mine either.

JR: What should we be doing here?

CB: Exerting leverage to create a political space so that the U.S.
does the right thing in Latin America.

JR: Is there something I haven't asked you that you'd like to say?

CB: I want to say that my book, Gringo, is political, and that it's
also personal: an adventure story. It's about travel. I urge everyone
out there to see the world for themselves and not watch it on TV. Go
out and see and relate and experience the world. That's what I try to
do anyway.

JR: Sounds to me like you have been living up to the name Chesa;
you've been dancing all around the world.

CB: I guess I have.
--

[Jonah Raskin is a prominent author, poet, educator and political
activist. His most recent book is The Radical Jack London: Writings
on War and Revolution. He contributes regularly to The Rag Blog.]

.

Lindy's Great Escape [Presidio Mutiny 1968]

Lindy's Great Escape

http://theragblog.blogspot.com/2009/04/randy-rowland-lindys-great-escape.html

Randy Rowland
21 April 2009

The Presidio mutiny was a sit-down protest carried out by 27
prisoners at the Presidio stockade on October 14, 1968. The stiff
sentences given out at courts martial for the participants (known as
the Presidio 27) attracted attention to the extent of sentiment
against the Vietnam War in the armed forces… [and] brought press
investigation of the conditions at the stockade and of the situations
of the protesters.
--

Part one

It was 40 years ago. We were all young. Facing a potential death
sentence for singing "We Shall Overcome," the 27 "mutineers" held a
meeting in the cell block of the Presidio Stockade. Everyone who
could escape should, we decided. We were not cooperating with the
Brass, not even to participate in their kangaroo court-marital.

Not long after, some of the Presido 27 did escape. Walter Pawlowski,
the guy who stood up during our sit-down, to read our demands to the
commandant, was one of the escapees. Keith Mather, one of the
"9-For-Peace," and the contact I was supposed to meet up with when I
arrived in the stockade, was another. They were recognizable
ringleaders in the stockade protest which became known as the
Presidio Mutiny. They had good reason to leave. Even before the
sit-down strike, both were already facing many years in prison for GI
resistance to the US invasion and occupation of Viet Nam. Now they
faced additional charges of mutiny, the most serious of military
offenses. Military regulations simply say "there is no maximum
sentence" for mutiny.

Later, Lindy Blake and I, both "mutineers," were cell mates in the
prison ward of the post hospital when the first mutiny sentences came
down, for 14 and 16 years, given to the first two of the 27 to be
court martialed. I was the third ringleader, sent in to the stockade
by the movement after a guard had killed a prisoner. My mission had
been to learn what was going on inside, and find out what could be
organized to take the prisoners' struggle to a higher level. Lindy
was a free spirit from LA, a lanky, blond hippie dancing to his own
tune through the stockade experience. He had refused to go to Viet
Nam, and was facing five years at hard labor. He was quick to flash a
grin, knew some yoga postions, and could sing all the words to every
Bob Dylan song there ever was. In the photo of the sit down where
Pawlowski stands up to read our demands, I can be seen directly
behind him, with glasses on. Lindy sits in front of Pawlowski, arms
linked with Mike Marino and Ricky Dodd, looking over his shoulder at
the camera.

Now we were in this cell together, with the mandate to escape if we
could. Lindy and I decided this was as good a chance as we were
likely to get. We were outside the fence, but heavily guarded. Our
cement-walled cell was one of several lining both sides of a short
corridor. A guard, who held the keys to each cell, was stationed in
the corridor. Another guard manned his post outside a locked gate not
far down the corridor, which separated the prison wing from the rest
of Letterman General Hospital. A third guard, a rover, armed with a
.45, patrolled back and forth outside, covering both sides of the
prison wing. We had an outside window and decided the best escape was
through its bars, so we arranged for a hack-saw blade to be smuggled
in, and began to saw.

We only worked at night. One of us would stand watch at the cell
door, straining at the barred inspection port to catch the first
sight of an approaching guard. The other guy would saw, timing his
efforts to correspond to the five or so minutes when the roving guard
was on the other side of the building. To cover the sound of sawing,
whoever was watching at the cell door would call down the corridor,
asking the guards to turn up their radio. It was San Francisco, 1969.
The guards were young too, and at night they tended to sit on either
side of the mesh that separated them, listening to the FM. If they
were nice guys, they would turn up the music when asked, which kept
them from hearing the sound of our saw blade working the metal bar.
If they were jerks, the lookout at the cell door would loud-talk
them, with non-stop begging or verbal abuse. Most of the time they
would turn it up just to drown him out. If they didn't, his constant
nagging provided the sonic cover needed to mask the sound of sawing.

The bars were fairly big, and the going slow. Each morning, when we
knocked off for the day, we'd fill in the saw marks with soap, then
blend in the soap with dirt from the floor to make the bar look
whole. It was tense work, stressful enough to give you the bad pit.
If we were caught, it would mean many years of additional charges on
top of all the years we already faced. We only had one chance to get
this right, so we were determined, methodical, and very, very
careful. Finally we had one cut completed, and began on the next. Our
blade was already dull, but eventually we could take the big bar
completely out of the window and then soap it back into place to
cover our progress. Each dawn we'd fill in our night's work with the
bar of soap, dispose of the night's debris, hide our saw blade and
collapse wearily into our bunks to sleep until the turn-key would
kick us awake for morning count.

When we were about a week away from being done, I got a visit from
the Catholic priest who served as my connection to the movement.
"We've been talking it over, Randy," he told me, "and we don't think
you should escape." His reasoning was sound: the other recognizable
ringleaders had already escaped. If I fled as well, those still in
custody would be left with no solid connection to the movement. He
had a moral argument as well. I had been sent into the stockade to
organize the protest and if I ran away, those who had answered the
call to resist would be left to face the drum roll alone. It was the
moral equivalent of the captain being the last one off the sinking ship.

I wasn't eager to spend my life in a penitentiary. I was young and
newly married. I had put a lot of work and many tense nights into our
escape plot. But I immediately knew that the priest was right. I
couldn't go. Back in the cell, I explained to Lindy my decision to
stay, and pointed out as cheerfully as I could that there was nothing
in the new situation that said that I couldn't help him escape. So
that night we started up our old routine, one at the cell door, one
sawing at the window.

One time we thought that the plot was exposed. Thinking back, I can't
remember why we thought that, but to get rid of the evidence we
ditched our hacksaw blade in a laundry hamper, hidden in our dirty
sheets. Almost immediately we realized that we had panicked. But now
our blade was across the corridor in a little utility room. Somehow
we conned the turn-key into unlocking the cell to let one of us get
into the utility room barely long enough to retrieve the blade, while
the other distracted the guard momentarily. That clown act blows the
top off any stress scale ever devised. Once back in the cell with our
precious blade, and with the turn-key returned to his chair down the
corridor, we danced wildly, between the bunks, out of our minds with
fear and excitement. Even now, I can hardly believe we managed to
retrieve our blade, but somehow we did, and the work went on.

Then one day, not too long before we figured to be done with our
nightly sawing, the guards put another prisoner into the cell with
us, a guy we didn't know. Since we didn't know him, and didn't have
contact with the general prison population to get anyone else to
vouch for him, we decided not to risk the plot by bringing him in on
it. His presence in the little cell added a whole new level of
complexity to our efforts. We would be as boring as possible each
evening, and he would eventually drift off to sleep. Once he was
sound asleep, one of us would take the cell door position, and call
down to the guards like usual, asking them to turn up the music. Only
now, if they wouldn't do it, we'd have to wait, because the plan B
razz we had used in the past to cover the noise of sawing would most
likely wake our cellmate. But often enough the guards would turn up
their radio, and whoever was at the window, minding the rover
outside, would begin to saw.

The lookout at the door had to watch for the guards in the corridor,
and keep another eye on our cellmate. This guy turned out to be a
sound sleeper, and although he woke up a few times, he never
discovered our plot. It was incredibly tense, with the lookout job
the worst, all worry and no activity. Sawing through steel with a
hacksaw blade is tough but the guy with the blade had only to saw and
to keep an eye out for the rover. Somehow, the act of sawing seemed
to dissipate the tension. On the other hand, the lookout had to put
himself into a state of hyper alertness, to watch our sleeping
cellmate, watch for the turn-key in the corridor, and count the
minutes before the rover would most likely return to our side of the
building. We took turns in each position, not so much to relieve the
saw man's aching fingers, but to relieve the lookout's stress.

Progress slowed down, but eventually the big night came. I don't know
how we were able to bore our cellmate to sleep. Finally, at the
appointed hour, in the wee hours of a dark night, we waited for the
rover to head to the other side of the building. Lindy stripped, to
avoid having his clothes hang up on the jagged metal. I helped stuff
him through the hole. He dropped to the ground below. I handed down a
pillowcase full of broken window glass and other debris, threw him
his pants, and he scampered off, naked, into the darkness, sack under
his arm, pants over his shoulder, heading for a pre-arranged place
where a car was supposed to be waiting to pick him up. That vision of
Lindy, sprinting nude into the night, making a break for freedom, was
my last look at him for many years.

Soaping the big bar back into place, I stuffed his bunk to make it
look like somebody was in it. The longer it took for the guards to
notice he was gone, the greater Lindy's chances of making good his
get-away. Pleased, but already missing the company of my comrade, I
sat for a while on the edge of my bunk. We had pulled it off! Filled
with both a big sense of victory and a huge empty place of sadness, I
finally curled up and went to sleep.

The next morning, as usual, the turn-key opened the cell door and
came in, kicking each bunk to rouse the prisoners for morning count.
At night they just periodically shine a flashlight through the
inspection port to count bodies sleeping in bunks, but each morning
they made you get up. This particular morning started off as usual.
The guard kicked our cellmate's bunk, "Get up, get up!" he barked.
The cellmate stirred. The guard walked over to Lindy's bunk and
kicked it, repeating his command. Then he turned to my bunk. The rasp
of his key in the lock had put me instantly awake, but I feigned
sleep. He kicked my bunk and I pretended to be groggy. Lindy had been
gone for hours, but there was no way I could know for sure that he
had been picked up by our co-conspirators on the outside. Determined
to stall as long as possible as a rear-guard action, I took extra
time waking up. Finally I was dangling on the edge of my bunk when
the guard turned back to Lindy, who had not moved. Kicking his bunk
with greater force, the guard yelled "Get up!" and yanked back
Lindy's covers, only to realize there was no body in the bed.

Turning to me with a nervous look, the guard growled, "How many
prisoners are supposed to be in this cell?"

"I don't know, you're the turn-key," I shrugged.

Nervously looking around the cell, he retreated back into the
corridor to consult the gate guard. I could hear them swearing down
the hall. In a couple minutes they both came into the cell, a
violation of prison protocol for the gate guard to come inside the
gate. They didn't know what to do. The roster listed three prisoners,
but the cell looked intact. If they reported a missing prisoner, and
there was only supposed to be two of us, then they would be
laughingstocks, at best. If they failed to report a missing prisoner,
on the assumption that the paperwork was wrong, they would be in deep shit.

They nervously talked to each other while looking around the cell.
After all those nights of high anxiety, I was calm. The cellmate
really didn't know what was going on, but prisoners always enjoy
seeing guards get some of their own medicine, so we just silently sat
on our bunks enjoying the show. The guards were ramping up, searching
the cell now. There wasn't really any place for a prisoner to hide,
but they searched anyway. They looked under all the bunks. One of
them walked over, picked up a towel off the floor, as if he expected
to see Lindy hiding beneath it. They were really nervous now, sure
there was supposed to be three prisoners, but with no explanation for
what might have happened. They went back out and consulted the rover.
Soon enough all three were in the cell, demanding to know where the
third prisoner was. The cellmate truly didn't know, and I played
dumb, offering them nothing to ease their situation. The rover, who
is never supposed to come into a prisoner area with his weapon, was
nevertheless smarter than the other two and started methodically
shaking the bars, determined to find an explanation. When he came to
the soaped bar, it pulled off in his hand. He pivoted, wild-eyed,
face contorted, steel bar held out like it was some sort of vile
object. All three guards cried out like they'd been stung, and
stampeded for the cell door, trying to get through all at once, in
their rush to sound the alarm. We were left behind to placidly eat
our breakfast, in a cell with a gaping hole. It was a long time later
when somebody higher up the chain of command finally ordered the
remaining prisoners be moved to a different, more secure cell.

Lindy had indeed been picked up at the designated place that night,
and was spirited away to Vancouver, Canada, where he joined Mather
and Pawlowski and a whole community of GI resisters living in exile.
--

Lindy's Great Escape, part 2

It was almost exactly forty years ago that I helped Lindy escape from
jail. Now Lindy lays dying in this cabin. His granddaughter is softly
playing the old piano. Propped up in a hospital bed, in his own
living room, Lindy is surrounded by windows that look out on the
trees, mostly evergreens, which ring his giant garden. In his line of
vision are rhododendrons in bloom, sagging fences and hand-hewn
sheds. A black tail deer stands mid-day in the yard, accepting the
generosity of family and strangers who have gathered for this passing.

Lindy's 3-corner fool's hat, its velvet somewhat faded with age,
hangs on a hook near the bed. He lies quietly, mostly sleeping, but
arousing once in a while to flash his grin at some new arrival here
to pay him respects. Lindy's time is measured in days, if not hours.
The hospital opened him up, saw he was a goner, and merely sutured
him back up. They released him to spend his last days in the place he
loves, among those who love him.

Both of his sons are here with their families. There is a scattering
of friends sitting in the yard. Neighbors drop in with food and
supplies. I notice that the women seem to curtsey or bow to Lindy
when they approach, flashing mischievous grins. They treat him with
the tenderness of old lovers, which­as it turns out­is pretty much
universally true.

This place is a hippie's dream of back to nature. The house posts are
pealed logs, some found on the beach nearby, and some harvested from
this patch of land on this remote Canadian Island. Walls and ceilings
are unfinished tongue and groove. The plywood floors are painted in
wild shades of blue and purple. Water comes from rain barrels on the
roof, electricity from solar panels. The room is toasty, heated by
the warm rays of the spring sun, and a wood stove.

Lindy told me he knew in his heart for a long time that something was
wrong with him. Then a few months back, part of a tree he was felling
struck him in the chest. After that he attributed his escalating pain
to the blow, not to cancer. Finally Lindy drove himself to the
hospital, and now, only a week or so later, we gather to bid him farewell.

In response to my call that Lindy was dying, Keith Mather, one of the
key players in the Presidio Mutiny flew up from San Francisco.
Together we drove north from Seattle, over the border, taking three
ferries to this island, where there are no policemen, to stand by our
comrade in his final hours.

One of the women who was with him during his short stay in the
hospital tells us a classic Lindy story. At one point after receiving
his grim news, he held his breath, she told us, pretending to be
dead. She fell for the gag, until he laughed and said "Got you!"

"I was yelling at him, 'You BASTARD!'" she related in her Quebec
French accent, "I was so mad at him. The nurses must have thought I was crazy."

When Lindy called me from the hospital, to say his end was near, he
remarked in that whimsical way of his, "Randy, it seems like I'm
always escaping and leaving you behind." As I sit beside him now, I'm
thinking that the significance of a person's demise is commensurate
with the value of their life. Sharing the prison cell with Lindy, I
learned lessons from him that I have treasured and held true ever
since. I'm up here now because he sat down then. I'm sure that each
person holding death-watch in this hand-made cabin, and many who are
not right here, can testify how they, too, were touched and enriched
by rubbing alongside this amazing spirit, my old comrade.

My mental image of Lindy has always been of a lithe young man dressed
in a three-corner fool's hat, dancing gently to his own tune, through
a happy crowd on a warm summer's day. He never lost that flop-eared
grin, he never ceased being a free spirit. On April 9, 2009, forty
years after he escaped from the Presidio, Lindy Blake, Presidio 27
mutineer, lover of many, father of two, passed away in his home on
Cortes Island, at the mouth of Desolation Sound, in Canada. Keith
Mather and I stood at his bedside and sang "We Shall Overcome" one
last time for him.

I wrote the following while sitting by his bedside that day:
Free Spirits Will Always Escape

Its me, Lindy, the one who helped you peck your way
From the cell so many years ago.

I have come now, so you may take wing again.
I was your co-conspirator then and I call you now,
My hummingbird, my jailbird, my escapee.
Hover about in the garden. Check the flowers.
Peer in the window from time to time,
Then flit on, as you will.

I'm here to saw the last bar. I'll soap you up.
Here's my hand, Brother, step up.
Wiggle through the hole to freedom.

I have come for you.
When the guards turn their backs,
I'll give you the signal, and when you're gone,
I'll replace the bar to mask your retreat.

Free Spirits will always escape.

[To learn more about the Presidio Mutiny and about the large scale
resistance among active duty GIs to the Vietnam War, visit the
archives at Sir! No Sir!] http://www.sirnosir.com/home_reference_library1.html

.

Take a sightseeing tour of London Beatles style

Take a sightseeing tour of London Beatles style

http://www.examiner.com/x-2082-Beatles-Examiner~y2009m4d22-Take-a-trip-to-London--Beatles-style?cid=examiner-email

April 22, 2009
by Steve Marinucci

Anyone visiting England knows that as the years go on, the sites
associated with the Beatles become fewer as time makes its changes on
the landscape.

Fortunately, there are ways to remember them. "The Beatles' London:
A Guide to 467 Beatles Sites in and Around London," a marvelous
travelogue of the places we'll remember all our lives, catalogs and
preserves those locales in great detail.

Co-authored by Piet Schreuders, Mark Lewisohn and Adam Smith, "The
Beatles London" compiled an authoritative guide to where the Beatles
lived and worked. Included are pictures associating them with the attractions.

And it's a trivia buff's delight. The lads' association with each
entry doesn't have to be a major one.

In Heading West, 11 Edith Grove, SW 10, gets an entry for a 1965
photo shoot done by Paul McCartney, reasons unknown.

Prospect Studios is noted for the Saturday Evening Post photo shoot
where, after two pictures, Ringo became ill with tonsillitis just
prior to the group heading out to tour, where he was replaced
temporarily by Jimmy Nicol.

On the other hand, St. John's Wood is where Abbey Road is located.
The book features 2 1/2 pages on the famous "Abbey Road" cover shot,
with various aspects of the cover and the sequence of the photo shoot.

The book is organized by areas of the city and also includes separate
sections for film shoots for "A Hard Day's Night," "Help!," "Magical
Mystery Tour" and the famous "Mad Day" photo shoot.

For example, one of the opening scenes in "Help!," where a bystander
says, "Still the same as they was before they was ... ", was shot on
Ailsa Avenue. The book has pictures of the street then and now.

There are similar fascinating items throughout this great book, a
great addition to any collection.

.

An Ideological Odyssey

[See URL for numerous embedded links.]

An Ideological Odyssey

http://www.lewrockwell.com/burris/burris12.html

by Charles A. Burris
April 22, 2009

The late 1960s, early 1970s saw a dramatic shift in the American
political matrix, a redefinition of competing political ideologies or
belief systems.

War, urban riots, campus protests and student alienation,
assassinations, inter-generational mistrust, monetary inflation, the
growth of the welfare-warfare state, and the "Sexual Revolution,"
were the background sociopolitical issues driving this sea change.

While 1968 was the pivotal year in this process, I want to focus upon 1970.

This was the year I entered college as a political science student,
and began my own personal ideological odyssey.

In November of 1970, Republican Richard Nixon was president. He and
his outspoken vice president, Spiro Agnew, had been aggressively
waging war on what they described as "Radical Liberals," or
"Radiclibs" during this off-year midterm congressional election.

While staunchly portrayed by the media as "anti-Communist," many
conservatives never really trusted Richard Nixon. Spiro Agnew came
from the "Nelson Rockefeller-wing" of the GOP. Detente', Nixon's
trips to the Soviet Union and China, and Watergate were still two
years in the future.

Strategists and analysts dictated that a political realignment was
needed. "Demographics is destiny" became the formula of the day.

The Republicans made as their centerpiece in this campaign the
disingenuous slogan of "Law and Order." Liberal Democrats were said
to be weak on this issue, cowardly advocating withdrawal of American
troops from the war in Vietnam, and coddling student protesters
against the war on college campuses.

"Law and Order" were actually GOP code words to angry, status
resentful working class and middle class whites who made up the
ethnocultural base of the Democratic Party.

"Law and Order" meant "getting tough" on urban blacks who had rioted
in the cities and believed in expansion of the welfare entitlement
programs such as Lyndon Johnson's Great Society.

"Law and Order" also meant class warfare against upper-class antiwar
student protesters at elite Ivy League universities.

These new Republican "conservatives" were said to represent the
patriotic "Silent Majority" of Americans who believed in God,
Country, and the State against the effete "radical chic" Democratic
"limousine liberals" who championed Peace (appeasement),
Non-intervention (isolationism), and Pluralism (permissiveness).

Those "Radical Liberals" were driven from office in a GOP midterm
electoral victory.

This pejorative labeling set the ideological tone for politics for
the next several decades. It continues today in the mindset of what
commentator Lew Rockwell has described as "Red State Fascists."

This watershed period saw a battle of the books trying to explain
what was happening in American politics. There was Richard Scammon
and Ben Wattenberg's The Real Majority, Kevin Phillips' The Emerging
Republican Majority, Barry Goldwater's The Conscience of a Majority,
Kenneth M. and Patricia Dolbeare, American Ideologies: The Competing
Political Beliefs of the 1970s, Charles A. Reich's The Greening of
America, Arnold S. Kauffman's The Radical Liberal, and Jerome
Tuccille's Radical Libertarianism: A Right-Wing Alternative. As a
young college student I heard Scammon, Phillips, and Goldwater
address these issues on the University of Tulsa campus, while the
Dolbeare book was a key text in a poli-sci class.

In that fall of 1970, since I considered myself a "radical liberal,"
I had eagerly read Kauffman's The Radical Liberal. In it he
championed the "New Left" ideas of opposition to the war in Vietnam,
participatory democracy, and community control of local institutions.

I was singularly unimpressed.

However, next to this book on the shelf of the local library was
Tuccille's Radical Libertarianism: A Right-Wing Alternative.
Right-Wing Alternative? I almost dropped the book in disgust. And
what in the world was a "libertarian?" I curiously opened this book,
scanned through it, and stared at the photo of the author on the back
flyleaf cover.

With his debonair mustache and fashionable turtle-neck sweater, he
did not resemble your typical "right-wing" spokesman of the day.
Neither did the contents of this slim volume.

I took it home, read it in about an hour and a half, and as they say,
the rest is history. This amazing book changed my perceptions about
politics and the world about me. It was my "red pill."

In 1974 I had the opportunity to personally thank Jerome Tuccille for
writing this seminal book that changed my life.

So what was going on in America? What was changing? How were ideas,
perceptions, and ideological concepts being remolded and refashioned?
The two works providing the best, most thoughtful answers to these
questions are Murray N. Rothbard's The Betrayal of the American Right
and Jeff Riggenbach's In Praise of Decadence.

Both books tackle the same basic subject but their analytical
framework or approach is very different. However, each work
compliments the other in this search for the truth. Rothbard's book
was originally written during this period (but only published in
2007), while Riggenbach's was published in 1998.

I commend them both to you as able guides to this ideological odyssey
that both America and I have undertaken in the past four decades.

But our journey is not yet over.

A Brief Addendum:

After writing Radical Libertarianism: A Right-Wing Alternative,
Jerome Tuccille went on to describe his own ideological odyssey
towards libertarianism in his hilarious and insightful book, It
Usually Begins With Ayn Rand.

Tuccille cogently recognized that in the early 1970s, most persons
alienated by the sterile conventional politics of left and right who
had made the same intellectual quest towards libertarianism as
himself, arrived via acquaintance with the published works of the
controversial novelist-philosopher Rand.

But as I described above, for me it began with Jerome Tuccille, for
which I am eternally grateful.

Tuccille has gone on to author more than twenty books, including
best-selling, highly acclaimed biographies of Donald Trump, Rupert
Murdoch, Alan Greenspan, and the Hunts of Texas, as well as several novels.

In the pages of The Libertarian Forum, Tuccille and Murray N.
Rothbard debated the merits of Charles A. Reich's phenomenal
best-seller, The Greening of America.

Tuccille hailed this revolutionary work celebrating the birth of a
new political awareness, or "Consciousness III," provided by the New
Left's counterculture and its critique of liberal corporatism.

Rothbard savagely attacked the book as "the Conning of America,"
defending the values of traditional middle-class America
(Consciousness I) against both the liberal onslaught of the Corporate
welfare-warfare State (Consciousness II), and the misguided
communitarianism and loopy egalitarianism of Reich's Consciousness
III counterculture.

(The best, most thorough examination of the Reich book and its
powerful impact is The CON III Controversy: The Critics Look At The
Greening of America, edited by Philip Nobile.)

Looking back in hindsight of how our technocratic society has
actually evolved over the past several decades, I believe Tuccille
and Rothbard posed a deceptive Hobson's choice. It was never really a
matter of either/or, of insisting one choose between Consciousness I
or Consciousness III, in opposition to the dreaded, stultifying
Consciousness II of the bureaucratic Corporate State.

What has emerged can only be described as a bold synthesis of
seemingly disparate elements, of Consciousness I entrepreneurial
savvy and dynamic capitalistic innovation combined with Consciousness
III's holistic vision of self-realization and celebration of freedom.

These ideas are put forth in one of the most brilliant, and
under-appreciated books of our time, Fred Turner's From
Counterculture to Cyberculture: Stewart Brand, The Whole Earth
Network, and the Rise of Digital Utopianism.

What a refreshing and incredibly illuminating book. There is
absolutely nothing like it.

This fascinating volume tells more about what has really been going
on for the past fifty years to shape our digital present and cyber
future than anything else I've encountered.

More than anything else, it confirms Ron Paul's liberating assertion
that "Freedom Brings Us Together."

Exactly the powerful and reassuring message we need on our continuing
ideological odyssey.

.

Friday, April 24, 2009

No counterparts to the young Kerry at war hearing

No counterparts to the young Kerry at war hearing

http://www.boston.com/news/nation/washington/articles/2009/04/22/no_counterparts_to_the_young_kerry_at_war_hearing/

Senator's panel to call Afghanistan veterans

By Farah Stockman
Globe Staff / April 22, 2009

WASHINGTON - Thirty-eight years ago today, a soldier fresh from
Vietnam riveted the nation by recounting the horrors of a far-away
war, famously asking the Senate Foreign Relations Committee: "How do
you ask a man to be the last man to die for a mistake?"

The speech by 27-year-old John Kerry launched his rise from antiwar
protester to presidential nominee to chairman of that very same
powerful committee.

Tomorrow Senator Kerry will listen as veterans of the war in
Afghanistan shine a spotlight on a conflict that a small but growing
number of Americans are beginning to question, even as President
Obama increases troops. But in a sign of how much Kerry - and the
country - has changed since 1971, tomorrow's hearings will feature
few - if any - dramatic calls for withdrawal.

Kerry's committee did not invite any witness from the Iraq Veterans
Against the War, the modern-day analog of the antiwar group he
represented when he testified in 1971. That group, which includes
Afghanistan war veterans, has called for an end to the Afghan war. At
least three out of the four Afghan war veterans who will testify
tomorrow oppose a US withdrawal.

Kerry himself, now an elder statesman and key ally of the president,
has resisted drawing parallels with Vietnam.

"In Vietnam, there was no threat to the United States in any direct
form whatsoever," Kerry said in a recent telephone interview. "The
consequence of not being in Vietnam was in no way to increase the
danger to America. The exact opposite is true in Afghanistan with Al
Qaeda. The threat is very real."

Still, the witness list has frustrated those who believe Afghanistan
is on its way to becoming the next Vietnam.

"I was a little disappointed that there wasn't any outreach made to
hear from veterans who are against the war in Afghanistan, given that
he played a similar role in Vietnam," said Perry O'Brien, a medic who
served in both Afghanistan and Iraq, and belongs to Iraq Veterans
Against the War.

Back in the '60s, veterans who opposed the Vietnam war tried for more
than four years to testify about their experiences, but the Senate
Foreign Relations Committee called "everybody except soldiers,"
recalled Jan Barry, founder of the Vietnam Veterans Against the War.

In January 1971, the group conducted their own hearings, interviewing
over 100 soldiers about alleged crimes against Vietnamese civilians
and other dark aspects of the war. But the hearings, known as the
Winter Soldier investigation, got little media coverage. So Kerry, an
articulate Yale graduate who had recently returned from combat,
suggested the group take its message to Washington. Weeks later, they
camped on the national mall and began contacting members of Congress.

It worked. The State Department invited Kerry and Barry to brief
officials and, at the last minute, the Foreign Relations Committee
asked Kerry, whom Barry considered the veterans' most articulate
spokesman, to testify.

Kerry stayed up all night writing what would become the most famous
speech of his life.

"It was a moment to crystallize a lot of thoughts," Kerry recalled.
"I was shocked to walk in there and see that I was going to be only witness."

Before television cameras, Kerry accused senior US officials of
forcing soldiers to continue an unwinnable war. He said it was the
height of "criminal hypocrisy" to say that America's freedom was
threatened by what happened in the rice paddies of Vietnam. He
recounted testimony from the Winter Soldier investigation, saying
that crimes such as rape, beheadings, and random shootings at
civilians occurred "on a day-to-day basis with the full awareness of
officers at all levels of command."

The televised hearings changed the way many Americans saw the war.

"My grandfather, after seeing John Kerry on television, said he
finally understood what I was talking about," Barry said.

The speech launched Kerry's career, but also may have planted the
seeds of political defeat.

His antiwar stance made him an enemy of President Richard M. Nixon,
who undermined Kerry by boosting another Vietnam veteran who accused
Kerry of embellishing his war record. That man, John O'Neill, later
appeared in the so-called "Swift Boat" ads that helped bring down
Kerry's 2004 presidential campaign.

The ads stirred the anger of some veterans who felt betrayed by
Kerry's antiwar stance, but Kerry said he has never regretted giving
the speech.

"A few phrases might have been more artfully expressed, and there
were a few things I left unsaid," he said. "But for an all-night
effort, and the passion of the moment, and the honesty of the moment,
I'm proud of what I said. I think it had an impact and it helped to
save lives and end the war."

Kerry did not become the president in 2004 or secretary of state in
2008, a post many believe that he wanted. But today, he finds himself
at the helm of some of the president's greatest foreign policy
challenges: marshalling support for a climate change treaty, a ban on
nuclear testing, and more funding for Afghanistan.

"He is at a very special moment in his career of public service,"
said Representative William D. Delahunt, a Quincy Democrat. "If one
could write the history of his career trajectory, it is as if he was
destined to be where he is now."

But much has changed since Kerry delivered his call to conscience
four decades ago.

Anger over the Iraq war has been muted by Obama's pledge to withdraw
most combat troops by the middle of next year. Afghanistan remains an
escalating conflict, but many still support it as a necessary
response to the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks.

With military deaths in the thousands, rather than tens of thousands,
the two wars have not generated the same public clamor that consumed
the country in 1971.

Tomorrow, at least three of the four Afghan war veterans invited to
testify will say that the United States should stay in Afghanistan,
even though there is no guarantee of success.

Westley Moore, a former Army captain, will call not for withdrawal
but for "a smart victory," he said. Genevieve Chase, a reservist,
will call for longer stints for soldiers so they can learn the
culture and language, while Chris McGurk, a retired US army staff
sergeant, believes that humanitarian assistance must be greatly
improved. A fourth Afghan war vet could not be reached for comment.

But Kerry did not invite O'Brien, who opposes both the Iraq and
Afghanistan wars, even though Kerry invited O'Brien to stay at his
Nantucket home in 2006 during a film festival featuring an antiwar
documentary that O'Brien was in.

Last year, O'Brien organized his own Winter Soldier hearings
featuring testimony from soldiers about how "extremely loose rules of
engagement" and air strikes in Afghanistan kill civilians and
alienate the population.

"I think we presented clear evidence that soldiers were being ordered
to do terrible things," he said. "But there wasn't much of a response."

Members of the group testified before the Congressional Progressive
Caucus, but have never been invited to an official hearing.

A spokesman for Kerry's office said he is "looking for perspectives
from troops who have spent time on the ground, without regard to
their opinions about the war overall."

In an interview, Kerry said it is important "to let democracy work,
in terms of airing differences and options."

Kerry is calling one witness who will urge a dramatic policy shift:
Andrew Bacevich, a Boston University professor and Vietnam veteran
who lost a son in Iraq.

"The significance of young John Kerry's testimony at that time was
that it seemed to capture something very essential about the Vietnam
war," said Bacevich. "I do believe that today, there is a fairly
urgent need to pose the same essential questions."

.

When Skateboards Will Be Free

When Skateboards Will Be Free

http://frontpagemagazine.com/Articles/Read.aspx?GUID=C8E23E90-35E1-430F-9274-9440DDD7C3CA

By David Forsmark
April 21, 2009

When Skateboards Will Be Free
A Memoir of a Political Childhood
By Said Sayrafiezadeh
Dial Press, $22, 287 pp.

It's been commonly observed that socialists have great love for The
People, but they can't abide actual people.

When Skateboards Will Be Free -- Said Sayrafiezadeh's unsparing but
compassionate and wryly funny memoir of growing up in a household
dominated by the Socialist Workers Party -- shows that truism applies
to family as well.

Said's father, Mahmood, was an Iranian-born "leading comrade" with
the Socialist Workers Party. He had come to America as the winner of
a scholarship given by the U.S. government to the winner of an essay
contest on liberty ­ an irony lost on Mahmood.

His wife, Martha Harris, was an American Jew and sister of writer
Mark Harris, whose best-known novel is Bang the Drum Slowly. When
Mark changed his name from Finkelstein to Harris to appear "less
ethnic" on book covers, Martha followed suit.

Martha, however, kept the name Sayrafiezadeh and stayed married to
Mahmood for decades after he abandoned her, so he could use the
freedom afforded by America to foment revolution against it.
True-believer Martha willingly sacrificed her life ­ and her
children's ­ for the Cause.

Mahmood took his two oldest children and abandoned his wife to go on
the road for the Party when Said was only 9 months old. Sayrafiezadeh writes:

"… (T)he logic behind my mother's explanation was that the separation
with my father was only temporary, and once this socialist revolution
was achieved, he would return to us…

"And since there was something so immensely redemptive and exciting
for me to imagine that my unknown father was not just a man who had
abandoned me but a noble man of adventure who had no choice but to
abandon me, I succumbed quite easily to my mother's version of events."

Martha, left to raise a child on her own on a meager secretarial
salary, devoted the rest of her life to political meetings and
selling the Party news organ, The Militant. But the fact that life
was hard was not his parents' fault, Said was taught -- it was the
burden of everyone born in under capitalism.

In fact, a misery existence was all but required, Sayrafiezadeh
observes, writing: "To suffer and to suffer greatly was the point.
There was nothing more ignominious than to succeed in a society that
was as morally bankrupt as ours."

But even young Said began to realize that the suffering in his
household was self-inflicted. When he and his mother moved to a
squalid apartment in Pittsburgh to be near the Party's headquarters
-- despite offers of help from Martha's brother, who also lived in
the city -- Said could not help but notice:

"The difference between us and the other poor people in the
neighborhood was that our poverty was intentional and self-inflicted.
A choice to be chased after, as opposed to a reality that could not
be avoided. … It was all artifice. We were without money, yes, but
not without options…

"Instead, my mother actively, consciously, chose not only for us to
be poor, but for us to remain poor and the two of us suffered greatly
for it. Because to suffer and to suffer greatly was the point. …
Because there was nothing so ignominious as to succeed in a society
that was as morally bankrupt as ours. It was no accident that nearly
every comrade was from a middle-class background and had repudiated
their upbringing and their college degrees to pursue a higher, more
profound calling. If you flourished in this society, you flourished
because you were deviant and unethical, an exploiter of the middle class."

Sayrafiezadeh mines the socialist hair shirt for both humor and
pathos. Said's single-minded desire for grapes while his mother
enforces the Cesar Chavez farm workers' boycott leads to some
laugh-out-loud moments.

The book's title comes from an anecdote when Said finally lets his
desire to have some of the accoutrements of a normal American
childhood get the better of him. When he gets up the nerve to ask his
mother to buy him an $11 skateboard, she replies, "Once the
revolution comes, everyone will have a skateboard, because all
skateboards will be free."

But the book's most chilling moment also comes from the determination
to suffer and sacrifice for the Cause. Since the Party did not
recognize private property, it was expected that homes would be
opened for traveling comrades.

While his mother is at a meeting, Said is molested by a visiting male
Party member who has set up shop in their cramped apartment. When his
Martha reports the assault, the Party apparatchik shrugs and says,

"Under capitalism, everyone has problems," then takes several more
days to find new accommodations for the predator.

The SWP was a Trotskyite group, so no portraits of Mao and Stalin
adorned the walls of Martha and Said's home as their deprivations
were considered over the line. Still, murals, tributes and portraits
saluting anti-imperialist thugs -- from Third Worlders like Castro,
Che, the Iranian hostage takers and Ayatollah Khomeini to such
home-grown radicals as Malcolm X and the Black Panthers -- were
prominently displayed.

Just when Said was beginning to carve out a bit of pre-teen normal
life in his school, the Iranian hostage crisis of 1979 dealt him a
double whammy. Living with his "peculiar rules" did not have nearly
the social jeopardy as identifying with an enemy (Iran) that nearly
all Americans were unified against.

Said admits he did not suffer from the hatred that the mainstream
media insists Americans routinely exercise in such situations. He hid
from his classmates that his father had moved back to Iran to join
the revolution and run for president of the country and the fact that
he and his mother watched Walter Cronkite every night to root for the
other side.

But exclaiming "I SUPPORT THE STRUGGLE OF THE IRANIAN WORKERS AND
PEASANTS AGAINST U.S. IMPERIALISM," in response to a routine "bomb
Iran" comment was not exactly the way to become a big man on campus
in 1980, and it cost him friends and the little popularity he had achieved.

When Skateboards Will Be Free at times sounds like the reminiscences
of a ex-cult member. Sayrafiezadeh's account of the SWP annual
convention at Oberlin College in Ohio, with its tent revival-like
atmosphere and kids shouting party slogans back to communist
preachers, is a prime example.

As a freshman, Said even wins the "honor" of a trip to Cuba, in which
the group tour runs around touring deplorable conditions and
pretending the Workers' Paradise has arrived. All Said really wants
on the trip is a clean bathroom ­ which he finally, blissfully
encounters at the Miami airport.

Unlike David Horowitz's classic Radical Son and other former Red
Diaper Babies' memoirs, Said's story is not really about his
political awakening or conversion. He more or less drifts away from
the Party. He gets a job with Martha Stewart but doesn't really see
it as the rebellious act it obviously must be.

Like Winston Smith in Orwell's 1984, Said rebels by simply living his
own life. And, like Smith, it is love that spurs his the final break
with the Party.

As an adult in his 20s, while he no longer lives by the Party's
standards, Said still accepts the "truths" he learned as a child
until a serious girlfriend begins challenging his rote slogans by
asking follow-up questions. Said suddenly realizes the rhetoric is empty.

Throughout the book, Sayrafiezadeh has a running bit about how his
mother saves every issue of The Militant. Huge piles of the paper
dominated their various apartments, Said recalls, but she never
looked at them or organized the collection.

The magazine madness serves as a metaphor for the dominating dead
weight the Party exerted on Said and his mother. Said eventually goes
to the thick volumes of Lenin and Marx that fill the bookshelves of
his mother's apartment and discovers the bindings have never been
cracked. The fanatics of the SWP didn't need to know anything in
particular when they know Everything and have the keys to the universe.

This is especially evident in his father, who periodically pops back
into Said's life without warning. Mahmood usually buys Said's dinner,
mouths a few platitudes, then disappears again to spread the
revolution. As he begins to question his own reflexive stands, Said
begins to notice that even his father has no grasp of basic facts and
cannot explain very much beyond Party dialectic.

When Skateboards Will Be Free is the best political family memoir
since Ron Radosh's Commies, with which it shares a deadpan sense of
humor. Said Sayrafiezadeh also belongs in the same league as Tobias
Wolfe and Homer Hickam as telling a very American story about growing
up in a particular ­ and, in this case, "peculiar"­ culture and
honestly but lovingly telling of his family's role in it.

.

Unitarian Universalist Fellowship marks 50 years in Manatee

Manatee Unitarian Universalist Fellowship marks 50 years in Manatee

http://www.bradenton.com/living/faith/story/1372746.html

By WENDY DAHLE - Special to the Herald
Apr. 18, 2009

For the past 50 years, the Manatee Unitarian Universalist Fellowship
at 322 15th St. W. in Bradenton has celebrated being a place where
people can embrace their spirituality regardless of race, gender or
religious belief.

"It's about spiritual and moral freedom with respect," said the Rev.
Dr. Bonnie Devlin, the first minister in the 50 years of the
fellowship. "We all try to make it work under one roof."

Unitarianism is not something new. It has been around since the
Protestant Reformation of the 1500s, according to Devlin. The
Puritans embraced Unitarian principles when they fled to the United
States in the 1600s in search of religious freedom. It was officially
recognized in the United State