Tuesday, June 30, 2009

The legacy of Brian Jones lives on

The legacy of Brian Jones lives on

http://jam.canoe.ca/Music/Artists/R/Rolling_Stones/2009/06/24/9913351-sun.html

By JOHN KRYK -- Sun Media
6/24/09

In 1962 Brian Jones formed the Rolling Stones, named the band the
Rolling Stones, picked the songs the Rolling Stones played, hustled
all the gigs for the Rolling Stones, chartered the musical direction
and non-conformist vision for the Rolling Stones -- and was the
unquestioned leader of the Rolling Stones.

Seven years later, he was fired by the Rolling Stones.

A month after that, he was dead.

Of all the 40-year-anniversary musical and cultural milestones you'll
be blasted with this summer, the story of the enigmatic Jones -- who
died 40 years ago this week -- is one you probably won't read much
about elsewhere.

Magnetic, sympathetic, adorable, deplorable, handsome, heartless,
self-assured, self-absorbed, talent-rich but insecure -- Brian Jones
was all these things rolled into one. Out of all that, he became
arguably the first patron saint of "sex, drugs and rock and roll."

Sex? He fathered three children out of wedlock before even forming
the Stones, then quickly had another, all before age 20. He once
claimed to have bedded 64 groupies in one month. Sixty-four!

Drugs? He was the first Stone to try all the hard ones, and he was
burned out before most people had even heard of Timothy Leary.

Rock and roll? Well, Jones formed the Stones as a blues and R&B band.
But later, when singer Mick Jagger and guitarist Keith Richards began
producing their own rock compositions, Jones contributed some of the
most memorable rock sounds of the 1960s.

Jones also was a fashion pioneer, paving the way for the
gender-blurred glam-rock statements of the early 1970s.

He even beat Jimi, Janis, Jim, Duane and all the rest up the stairway
to rock 'n' roll heaven.

But back to the band's beginning.

It was in April 1962 when Mick Jagger, a university economics major
who sang blues only on weekends, and his quiet, ambition-free friend
Keith Richards first laid their eyes and ears on Brian Jones. It was
at a blues gig, and Jones was showing off his acumen as the first
great slide guitar player in England.

Mick and Keith were awestruck by Jones that day, and were ecstatic to
be asked by Jones to join the blues band he was forming. The trio
eventually lived together in squalor in a seedy London flat, as Jones
started pulling the whole thing together. He and Keith were the tight
ones, while Jagger attended classes or studied. By December 1962,
Jones allowed bassist Bill Wyman to join. A month later, Jones'
pestering paid off when highly regarded jazz and blues drummer
Charlie Watts agreed to come aboard.

By May 1963, the Stones were the hottest London-based band. And Jones
was getting as many squeals from the girls as Jagger.

Young hotshot producer/promoter Andrew Loog Oldham signed the Stones
to Decca, and Stones-mania in England began in earnest. These were
the absolute best of times for Brian Jones.

But by the end of 1963 the power base within the band began to shift,
thanks to two situations.

First, at an October tour stop in Liverpool, Jones let it slip to the
other Stones that he was planning on staying in a nicer hotel than
the rest of them.

"He had an arrangement ... that, as leader of the band, he was
entitled to this extra (five pounds a week) payment," Richards
recalled. "When we discovered this, everybody freaked out, and that
was the beginning of the decline of Brian."

Second, producer Oldham correctly was panicking that the Stones'
shelf-life would be short if they couldn't come up with original
material, like the Beatles. Jones, Richards and Jagger all tried to
write bluesy pop songs and failed miserably. Jones especially
struggled. As the legend goes, Oldham locked Jagger and Richards in a
kitchen until they produced a decent song. The Glimmer Twins were born.

Over the next two years the Stones shot to worldwide fame, thanks in
large part to their 1965 monster hit (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction --
a Jagger/Richards composition. It was a song on which Jones had
almost no musical role, which pained him. Jones would act out,
screwing over the others in little ways, but also in big ways, such
as missing concerts and recording sessions.

By the end of 1965, with Mick clearly the leader on stage and in the
press, and Keith now the leader in the studio, Jones was becoming an
after-thought. Crestfallen, he turned to drink.

"Brian was in bad shape, far away from the rest of the band,"
Richards told Playboy in 1989. "He needed to be in a f---ing
hospital. He needed help. Then he turned up with Anita."

That would be Anita Pallenberg.

A drop-dead gorgeous actress from Germany, Pallenberg defined blond
ambition in Swinging London. Jagger, Richards and just about everyone
else wanted her badly, but she threw in with Jones, giving him a
great boost of confidence at the exact time he needed it.

Unable to write hit songs himself, Jones resolved to embellish the
Jagger/Richards pop-rock compositions by learning to play any
instrument he could procure. With his immense talent, he added vital,
exotic, fresh sounds to the Stones' musical pallet -- from sitar
(Paint It Black) to marimbas (Under My Thumb) to Japanese koto
(Mother's Little Helper) to dulcimer (Lady Jane) to accordion
(Backstreet Girl) to recorder and cello (Ruby Tuesday).

By the end of '66, the Stones -- like the Beatles before them -- quit
touring after three gruelling years. Richards and Jones became tight
again. Brian and Anita's flat was party central for the coolest artists.

But Jones' renaissance was short-lived.

On a group trip to Morocco in March 1967, he sensed Pallenberg was
falling in love with Richards and, in an insane attempt to show her
who was boss, insisted she join him in bed with a couple of Moroccan
prostitutes. When she declined, Jones beat her up.

The next day, Richards and Pallenberg made their dramatic escape,
fleeing the country together. In one fell swoop, Jones lost his best
friend, the love of his life to that best friend, and any last chance
he'd ever have to retake control of his band. Triple catastrophe.

The final two years of his life were, in a word, ruinous. Many photos
of him in '67, '68 and '69 are painful to look at.

Drugs became his grieving soul's salve, but he couldn't handle them.
He took LSD, pot and cocaine, yes, but mostly he gobbled uppers and
downers -- "prescription death," as Pallenberg later called it.
Washed down by lots of alcohol.

Occasionally he could pull himself together long enough to add
splashes of brilliance in the studio -- such as his otherworldly
mellotron on 2000 Light Years From Home, or his whole new style of
country slide guitar phrasing on No Expectations. More often, it got
to the point that Jagger and Richards sometimes wouldn't even turn on
the tape machine in the studio as Jones strummed away on some guitar
part that sounded good only in his head. "He became something you
just sat in the corner," Richards said.

No shortage of people reached out to try to help. But it was a chore.

"He ended up the kind of guy that you'd dread when he'd come on the
phone," John Lennon said in the '70s. "He was really in a lot of pain
... He was one of them guys that disintegrated in front of you."

By April 1969 Jones was no longer bothering to show up at recording
sessions. A month later, guitarist Mick Taylor was picked to replace
him. In early June, Jagger, Richards and Watts drove to Jones' rural
estate to inform him they were kicking him out of, well, his band. He
made it easy for them.

Over the next few weeks, Jones talked excitedly about forming a new
band that would play upbeat, raw, rootsy rock like Credence
Clearwater Revival. Some think former Jimi Hendrix Experience drummer
Mitch Mitchell was on board.

But on the night of July 3, 1969, Brian Jones was found dead at the
bottom of his swimming pool. He was 27.

The coroner ruled it an accident -- death by misadventure -- after
Jones had consumed a large quantity of downers and alcohol. Rumours
and, later, authors alleged he was murdered. No proof.

Years later, after Richards eventually dumped her, Pallenberg
remarked that even though Jones died, his personas have lived on in
the forms of Mick Jagger and Keith Richards. Think about it: A
serious student before he met Jones, Jagger seemingly becomes more
and more hung up on topping Jones' roguish sexual exploits (Mick is
up to seven children by four women) -- while Richards, a shy,
confidence-lacking layabout before he met Jones, relishes his rep as
rock's baddest bad boy and champion drug-taker.

More than three decades later, Bill Wyman summed up the original
Rolling Stone this way:

"Brian was weak, had hang-ups and at times was a pain in the arse.
But he named us, we were his idea and he chose what we first played ...

"Brian Jones is a legend and his legacy is there for all to hear.
While the Rolling Stones damaged all of us in some way, Brian was the
only one who died."

.

Hippie fashion never fades away

Hippie fashion never fades away

http://www.chicagotribune.com/features/lifestyle/chi-tc-fash-hippie-0629-0628jun28,0,5249843.story

But drop the head-to-toe hippie looks

By Wendy Donahue | Tribune Newspapers
June 28, 2009

Hard-core thrifter Erin Rembert, 23, used to have no problem finding
old maxi-dresses to transform into mini-dresses or tops like the one
she was wearing recently at the vintage shop where she works in Chicago.

"Now everything is totally picked over," Rembert said.

And the old maxi-dresses that she does find? No updating required.

"The hippie look is having an aesthetic revival," she said.

As even the most shameless shopaholics have watched the sun set on
the era of acquisitiveness, a new age of Aquarius is dawning. Hippie
looks carry at least an air of thrift -- even if that maxi-dress
comes from a mainstream store such as Forever 21 or Target.

"People are reworking materialism," Rembert said.

Hippie looks always rally in the sweaty months. But with "Hair"
returning to Broadway, the Grateful Dead resurfacing, Phish reuniting
and Woodstock's 40th anniversary approaching, the resurrection is
more robust than usual, with crochet bags and trims, peasant tops,
vests, ethnic embroideries and prints, fringe, tie-dye fabrics, denim
cutoffs, peace-sign jewelry, braids, beads and boots.

The prevailing vibe this time around: Tune in, try on -- but turn
away from a head-to-toe hippie homage.

A modern approach, says Erica Strama, a fashion expert for the
national shopping center chain Macerich, is to pair one or two
'60s-inspired pieces, such as a graphic tank layered under a crochet
vest, and keep the rest of one's attire modern, simple and unsentimental.

"I love colorful peasant tops paired with slim skirts and strappy
shoes," she said.

Macy's windows have been radiating the Summer of Love theme, the
origins of which can be traced in part to St. Tropez, where gladiator
sandals and long dresses began sweeping the streets a few seasons ago.

"I go to St. Tropez every year to look at spring/summer trends
because they are still very advanced," said Nicole Fischelis, group
vice president/fashion director for Macy's stores. "I noticed the
whole attitude and mood of long dresses, off-the-shoulder blouses ...
and boots for summer."

Now, hippie iconography is turning up in not just women's fashion but
beauty and home goods, as well as men's fashion. That captain of the
conspicuously consumptive age, former Gucci fashion designer Tom
Ford, has introduced a White Patchouli fragrance for women. Home guru
Jonathan Adler created a Hashish candle. Tie-dye fabrics flutter
through Crate & Barrel's CB2 stores. Hickey Freeman's customized
men's polo shirts include a peace-sign logo option.

It all confirms that the neo-hippies don't shun commerce and the
establishment the way their forebears did.

With good reason, says Julia Chaplin, who wrote the new
hippie-influenced book "Gypset Style" (Assouline, $45).

"It's not the same as it was in the '60s and '70s," Chaplin said.
"We're in a moment in the culture with the economy and environment
that we kind of need to work together. I think our establishment
right now with [ President Barack] Obama is so exciting and cool. Who
would want to opt out of that?"
--

wdonahue@tribune.com

.

Party like it's 1969: Woodstock forty years on

Party like it's 1969: Woodstock forty years on

http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/music/features/party-like-its-1969-woodstock-forty-years-on-1722695.html

Four decades on, does Woodstock still define the festival experience?
A raft of anniversary DVDs and CDs and a new film aim to keep the mood alive.

By Pierre Perrone
Monday, 29 June 2009

Talking about Woodstock is like talking about the Second World War,"
says Graham Nash, whose recall of the three-day festival which
defined the hippie dream for decades, gives the lie to the adage that
if you can remember the Sixties, you weren't really there.

In fact, his recollections and those of the rest of Crosby, Stills,
Nash and Young, the supergroup who played their second-ever gig at
the Woodstock Music & Art Fair in August 1969, inspired Joni
Mitchell's ode to the festival and its "golden" generation. "We were
enthused tremendously about what had just gone down. And she, in
talking to the four of us, got such a depth of feeling about
Woodstock, and she wasn't even there!" marvels Nash who had advised
his then girlfriend not to travel to the site because she was due to
appear on The Dick Cavett Show in New York the day after the festival
ended. "It was such a great song, the whole feeling. As soon as the
four of us heard it, we wanted to do that record so bad. And we did."

Nash was there, at Max Yasgur's dairy farm in Bethel, New York, and
literally bought the T-shirt. Indeed, Nash's original 1969 Woodstock
T-shirt was on display in the Hard Rock Backstage VIP Tent at Hard
Rock Calling last weekend and will now adorn the walls of the Hard
Rock Café in London for a fortnight. Another key item from the Hard
Rock's Woodstock Collection on show was the Gibson SG Special guitar
used by Pete Townshend during The Who's sensational set, not only to
manically strum "Pinball Wizard" but also to whack activist Abbie
Hoffman on the head after he rushed the stage to make a speech about
the imprisonment of MC5 manager John Sinclair. "The most political
thing I ever did," later declared Townshend whose experiences at
Woodstock planted the seed of "Won't Get Fooled Again".

"What they thought was an alternative society was basically a field
full of six-foot-deep mud laced with LSD. If that was the world they
wanted to live in, then fuck the lot of them." Canned Heat drummer
Fito de la Parra remembers the band's singer Bob "The Bear" Hite
commandeering a helicopter to the site and throwing the TV crew
already on board out saying: "We're going to make the news". The
first sight of Woodstock from the air woke me up," he says. "A small
city of a half million people. Tents and sleeping bags and blankets
made little patches of blue and yellow and red on the green grass of
the rolling hills from horizon to horizon. We had no idea that we
were about to play the most famous gig of our lives."

The fact that Woodstock memorabilia and reminiscences, along with a
raft of 40th-anniversary releases including the director's cut of
Michael Wadleigh's award-winning documentary Woodstock: 3 Days of
Peace and Music on DVD, the remastered reissues of the albums Music
from the Original Soundtrack and More: Woodstock ­ a number one in
the US for four weeks in 1970 ­ and Woodstock Two, and Woodstock 40,
an upcoming 6-CD box set of performances featuring 38 previously
unreleased tracks, can create such an interest is testament to the
hold the festival still has over our collective unconscious.

Yet, it so very nearly didn't happen. When Michael Lang, John
Roberts, Joel Rosenman and Artie Kornfeld set up Woodstock Ventures,
they struggled to find a suitable site and eventually settled on
their third choice location in New York state, barely a month before
the festival was due to take place. Having told local authorities
they were planning an event for 50,000 people, they sold around
185,000 three-day tickets in advance ­ at $18 a pop ­ and expected 10
per cent more to show up. In fact, close to half-a-million people
attended what was eventually declared a free concert, causing
gridlock on the roads and monopolising the weekend's news coverage in
the US. Amazingly, despite the rain, the lack of food and the absence
of basic amenities, the festival was a peaceful, "beautiful"
occasion, even if it over-ran so much that when Hendrix closed the
proceedings with incendiary versions of "The Star-Spangled Banner"
and "Hey Joe", it was Monday .

That might well have been it for Woodstock, a hazy memory for the
peace and love generation to tell their children and grandchildren
about, but for the fact that the whole thing had been filmed and
recorded for posterity, mainly as a way of funding the festival in
the first place. Kornfeld had had the nous to contact Fred Weintraub
at Warner Bros. and asked for an advance of $100,000 to allow the cameras in.

Wadleigh quickly assembled a 100-strong team including Thelma
Schoonmaker and Martin Scorsese, and told them to go for the cinéma
vérité approach and focus on the hippie audience as much as the
musicians. Skilful editing by Schoonmaker ­ who was nominated for her
work ­ along with the use of freeze frames, split screens and
superimpositions turned the documentary into an epic. Shown at Cannes
in 1970, the three-hour film was released internationally, made $50m
­ 100 times its budget ­ for Warner Bros. in the US alone, and saved
the film studio from bankruptcy. It also enabled the organisers to
recover their original investment, and ensured the event's cultural
impact increased over the years, as festival-goers around the world,
at the Isle of Wight in 1970 and beyond, mimicked the behaviour of
their American brothers and sisters. Having seen the documentary,
Michael Eavis contacted Wadleigh and took a few leaves out of
Woodstock's book when he held the first Glastonbury Festival on his
farm in 1970 and let the cameras in for Glastonbury Fayre in 1971.

While acts such as the Paul Butterfield Blues Band, Canned Heat,
Country Joe & The Fish, The Grateful Dead, Jimi Hendrix, Jefferson
Airplane, Janis Joplin, Ravi Shankar and The Who had already played
the better-organised Monterey International Pop Music Festival in
California in June 1967, Woodstock sealed their status as icons of
the counter-culture movement. The 1969 event and 1970 documentary
also made stars of Richie Havens, the impromptu opening act, Melanie,
who wrote "Lay Down (Candles in the Rain)" about the experience,
Santana ­ yet to release their debut album and with leader Carlos
Santana tripping throughout his set ­ Arlo Guthrie, Sly & The Family
Stone, Joe Cocker, Ten Years After and even rock'n'roll and doo-wop
revivalists Sha Na Na. John Sebastian's "I Had a Dream" and Joan
Baez's rendition of "Sweet Sir Galahad" leapt from the screens and
the soundtrack speakers and fed the feverish imaginations of
teenagers the world over. The band Mountain missed out on the boost
to their profile until the release of Woodstock Two in 1971, while
Creedence Clearwater Revival, The Grateful Dead and Johnny Winter
held out on releasing any of their performance until much later,
while a combination of management and record company politics,
technical hitches and time restrictions also meant Sweetwater, The
Incredible String Band, Bert Sommer, Tim Hardin, Quill, The Keef
Hartley Band, Blood, Sweat & Tears and The Band also disappeared from
the public's perception of Woodstock, though this will at long last
be rectified for most on the Woodstock 40-box-set. Over six CDs, this
mammoth endeavour re-establishes the chronological sequence of
performances and still finds time for stage announcements from Chip
Monck ­ "the brown acid is not specifically too good" ­ and other
audio curios like the Hoffman vs Townshend incident.

Performers flying in on helicopters ­ a portentous sight in the
Vietnam era ­ food and drinks spiked with LSD, acts going on 14 hours
or a day late, the myth and legend of Woodstock has remained a potent
signifier for baby-boomers ever since. It has served as the backdrop
to films like A Walk on the Moon, directed by Tony Goldwyn in 1999,
and starring Diane Lane and Viggo Mortensen, and Ang Lee's
forthcoming comedy Taking Woodstock. It has also inspired several
follow-up events, most notoriously an ugly, chaotic 30th anniversary
festival with the wrong bands ­ Limp Bizkit, Metallica, Red Hot Chili
Peppers ­ attracting the wrong kind of crowd, as if the nu-metal
generation had been intent on killing off the dream of the flower children.

Best remember the original Woodstock as Jefferson Airplane singer
Grace Slick does. "So much of Woodstock's appeal was the chance to
simply come together and touch what we knew had already taken birth.
It was our turn", she writes in Somebody to Love?, her autobiography.
"We were ready to breathe, ready to celebrate change. I really
believed the whole world would look like that in about sixteen years
­ the different skin colours weaving in and out of the tapestry, the
unrestricted language and lack of cultural animosity, and the
beautiful power of our main language: rock'n'roll.

"Did the gigantic dream work? It not only worked, it remains a
magnificent symbol of an era. We are all accustomed to big outdoor
concerts these days; they've become part of our culture. Not so in
1969. Today, the mere name Woodstock immediately conjures an image of
a specific point in time where for four days and nights in the spirit
of acceptance, celebration, and profound ritual, wherever we were, we
were all different ­ and we were all the same."
--

'Woodstock: 40th Anniversary Edition' is out now as a four-disc DVD
and a two-disc Blu-ray on Warner Home Video. 'Music from the Original
Soundtrack and More' and 'Woodstock Two' are out now on Rhino. The
six CD-box set, 'Woodstock 40', will be out on 17 August on Rhino.
Items from the Hard Rock's Woodstock Collection are on display at the
Hard Rock Café in London. Ang Lee's 'Taking Woodstock' is out on 30 October

.

Corso – The Last Beat

Corso ­ The Last Beat

http://www.variety.com/review/VE1117940566.html?categoryid=31&cs=1

(Documentary)

By JAY WEISSBERG
Jun. 26, 2009

An Arkwright Ventures production. Produced by Gustave Reininger,
Damien Leveck. Executive producers, Reininger, Donna Stillo, Jane
Albrecht, Fred Milstein, John Ptak. Co-producers, Haven Reininger,
Amanda Gill. Directed, written by Gustave Reininger.

With: Gregory Corso, Allen Ginsberg, Ethan Hawke, Gustave Reininger.
--

The least known of the Beats comes off as the most appealing in
Gustave Reininger's enthralling docu "Corso -- the Last Beat." The
helmer, best known for his collaborations with Michael Mann (most
notably on "Crime Story"), befriended Gregory Corso in his later
years, documenting that final period and helping to expel ghosts from
the poet's haunted past. Once it's gotten the clumsy period-setting
out of the way, the pic comes into its own, tugging at the emotions
in genuinely cathartic ways. "Corso" will easily see success on
bicoastal art screens and beyond.

In a sign of how successfully Reininger gives life not just to the
man but to his poetry, the public jury at Taormina awarded the docu
their best film prize. Opening scenes introduce Corso exhorting the
Muses at the ancient temple in Delphi, looking very different from
the handsome figure seen in early photos. With his thick New York
accent and unkempt appearance, he looks and sounds more like a common
schnorrer than the man Allen Ginsberg called "a poet's poet."

Reininger shifts back in time in an attempt to capture the era
leading up to the Beats' takeover of popular culture, though piling
on photos does little to illuminate the subject. Fortunately this
hyperbole-prone section segues into scenes of Corso and Ginsberg
pointing out old haunts in New York's Greenwich Village. With
Ginsberg's death in 1997 -- seen in deliberately out-of-focus images
-- Corso became the last of the Beats.

Docu's long gestation is evident both in this original footage and in
Reininger's subsequent journey with Corso to Europe, where the poet
was rejuvenated by sites in France, Italy and Greece he first visited
in the 1950s.

Born in New York in 1930, he led a hardscrabble childhood: Convinced
by an abusive father that his mother abandoned him, Corso grew up on
the streets, thrown into "the Tombs" at age 13 for nabbing a toaster.
At 17, he was sentenced to three years in the maximum-security
Clinton Correctional Facility for stealing a suit. The docu enters a
new realm with scenes of Corso returning to Clinton and speaking with
the inmates about his discovery of classical texts in prison. There's
nothing of the schoolmaster in his manner; he speaks inspirationally,
without condescension and with enormous understanding and gratitude.

From here, Reininger's story gets better and better, as he fills in
Corso's childhood and investigates the real tale of his mother's
supposed abandonment. Even auds aware of the story are bound to be
moved by how it develops, and the film captures it with respect and warmth.

Much is left out -- there's no sense of how Corso supported himself,
and the film does viewers a disservice by avoiding any mention of his
drug use and lifelong methadone addiction.

Ethan Hawke delivers onscreen narration in a relaxed style akin to
that of a teacher educating friends. The thesp is an appropriate
choice: His propensity for grunge could never have existed without
the Beats and, as seen toward the end, he was a visitor at Corso's
deathbed. Sound quality is occasionally fuzzy around the edges, but
otherwise, the docu plays fine on the bigscreen.

Camera (color/B&W, DV), Harry Dawson, Richard Rutkowski, Jesse M.
Feldman; editor, Damien Leveck; music, Steven J. Edwards; sound, Adam
Hawk; associate producer, Peter Kirby. Reviewed at Taormina Film
Festival (Beyond the Mediterranean), June 14, 2009. Running time: 87 MIN.

.

Listening to the Beats with Naropa anthology

Listening to the Beats with Naropa anthology

http://www.dailycamera.com/news/2009/jun/26/listening-to-the-beats-naropa-kerouac/

By Clay Evans
Friday, June 26, 2009

Among those who know of the Beat Generation, its works, its
personalities and its impact on American literature and culture,
there seem to be a few basic camps.

First, there are those who virtually idolize the Beats, most notably
the "biggies" -- Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, Gary Snyder, William
S. Burroughs. Interestingly, the lionizers cannot be easily roped off
by generation: Passion for the beats seems to crop up repeatedly, so
that one is just as likely to find a 20-something fan as one 60 or older.

Then there are those who really couldn't care less, who see the Beats
as oh-so-yesteryear, hardly more relevant than hippies.

And there are those who fall in the middle -- I count myself as one
-- who recognize the influence of the Beat movement but don't accord
rock-star status to its featured players.

"Beats at Naropa," a new compilation of interviews, "rap sessions"
and panels taken from the extensive audio archives at Boulder's
Naropa University, which played a key latter-day role in maintaining
the Beat mystique, is a fascinating opportunity to eavesdrop for the
curious and the besotted alike.

Not everything will appeal to the casual reader. Some pieces, such as
"Reading, Writing and Teaching Kerouac in 1982" by Ann Charters,
"Commonplace Discoveries" by Philip Whalen and "Basic Definitions" by
Gary Snyder, are essentially lectures.

But it's an awful lot of fun watching Beat brains in action. The
recorders were on, but the banter in "'Frightened Chrysanthemums':
Poets' Colloquium" and the fascinating interview, "You Can't Win: An
Interview with William Burroughs," reveal the personalities as
cranky, odd, brilliant and fascinating.

The "Poets' Colloquium" records a freewheeling conversation at
Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche's Boulder home between Naropa's founder (who
"was curious to meet and converse with the poets" ) and Beat giants
Ginsberg, Burroughs, W.S. Merwin, Anne Waldman and several others.

From "astral travel" to meditation retreats to writing, they're all
over the map -- just as you'd expect in casual conversation.
Burroughs, for example, reveals a certain skepticism of Trungpa's
thoughts on meditation, and the rinpoche comes off as almost frustrated:

"BURROUGHS: But I would like to have a typewriter.

"TRUNGPA: Well, a typewriter becomes an out for us...

"GINSBERG: Yes, but he's also saying the typewriter, the use of
typewriters, is his zafu, that's his yoga. Is that possible?

"TRUNGPA: It's possible, of course, but it's very deceptive.

"WHALEN: Or you could take the ribbon out." ...

The seemingly cantankerous Burroughs -- the reader is free to apply
emotion to the words on the page -- is delightfully stubborn: "But
suppose in retreat (the writer gets) an idea for a great novel?"

The conversation goes on for almost 30 pages, and it's anything but
boring, magically revealing the personalities in the room.

The 1978 Burroughs interview is equally fascinating, and he comes off
as both brilliant and somewhat humble. He is remarkably prescient,
arguing against Dr. Timothy Leary's fantasies of sending all humanity
off to live in space and firmly disputing the notion that there will
be a nuclear war between the United States and the Soviet Union. He
counters Waldman's assertion that "the planet will have to have some
sort of world socialism ... to survive ultimately." And you have to
love that he cops to not reading "much serious fiction," preferring
the "science fiction, horror," that Waldman calls "grade-B pulp stuff."

Beat fans will eat up "Beats at Naropa," as will anyone who just
feels nosy and wants to "sit down" with some of the characters and
listen in. And who knows? Maybe the eavesdropping will be enough to
inspire the curious to try out a few of the more academic pieces.

.

John Lennon: the power of art and peace

John Lennon: the power of art and peace

http://www.greenleft.org.au/2009/800/41196

Barry Healy
29 June 2009

Forty years ago, between April and May 1969, John Lennon and Yoko Ono
began an international cultural struggle against the Vietnam War
using their fame and notoriety to draw attention to their peace message.

Now, it is almost impossible to comprehend how capitalist states
rallied against the pair, but Lennon's Beatles fame and increasingly
radical politics caused officials throughout Europe to hound him.
Eventually, when he moved to the United States, President Richard
Nixon personally ordered the FBI to target him.

In early 1969, the war in Vietnam was entering its final, bloody
stage. The previous year, Vietnamese liberation fighters had driven
the US to the negotiating table and talks were set to begin in Paris.

The US manoeuvred for political space as its 543,400 ground forces
were rapidly demoralised and youth around the world moved into open revolt.

Nixon spoke of "Vietnamisation" to pull US troops out of the front
line, while unleashing terror bombing on North Vietnam and secret
bombing of Cambodia. On April 9, 1969, 300 anti-war students at
Harvard University seized the administration building, threw out
eight deans and locked themselves in. The US public was stunned when
police heavy-handedly ejected them.

This was the tumultuous background against which Lennon and Ono set
out first to get married and then speak against the war.

Denied the right to marry in Britain by reactionary officials, they
began a highly publicised cross-European flight looking for a country
that would allow it. Finally they succeeded in holding the ceremony
in Gibraltar. The Beatles' hit "The Ballad of John and Yoko" was one
product of this escapade.

Between March 25 and 31, capitalising on the press frenzy, they spent
their honeymoon in the Amsterdam Hilton Hotel inviting reporters into
their room every day between 9 am and 9 pm. They confounded the press
by receiving them in their pajamas, sitting in bed, and talking about
world peace.

A second bed-in was planned for New York, but Lennon was refused a
visa because of a marijuana conviction. So on May 26 Lennon and Ono
started a one-week stay in Montreal.

Just days before, the infamous battle of Hamburger Hill had been
fought near Hue in central Vietnam. In what became a symbol of the
war's futility, this 10-day, gruesome battle cost the lives of an
unknown number of Vietnamese freedom fighters and 46 US soldiers.

After capturing the hill, the US forces were ordered to withdraw,
whereupon the Vietnamese seized it unopposed.

In Montreal, the press interviewed Lennon and Ono in bed and
broadcasted their anti-war sentiments. They recorded the song "Give
Peace a Chance" with a gang of friends including radical poet Allen
Ginsberg and psychedelic drug advocate Timothy Leary.

Lennon was a personally complex, extremely intelligent and
artistically outstanding individual. Born in WWII Britain, he was
abandoned by his father and barely noticed by his mother.

When Lennon was five years old his seafarer father returned and
announced that he wanted to move to New Zealand. He demanding John
choose between staying with his mother or leaving with him.

The horror of that moment haunted Lennon for the rest of his life and
inspired the fractured, questing nature of his songs, as opposed to
Paul McCartney's more restful lyrics and melodies.

As an adult, Lennon had contact with two revolutionary groups in
Britain, the International Marxist Group and the Workers
Revolutionary Party. To the latter he donated money and his
hand-written lyrics of "Working Class Hero".

Lennon had the courage to work through his demons in public, turn his
pain into art and try to articulate a vision of human liberation.

His nemesis, Richard Nixon, a paranoid alcoholic, hid his demons
behind the mask of power, causing untold death and misery before
being driven from power.

.

The Fish hits retirement road

The Fish hits retirement road

http://www.dailydemocrat.com/ci_12662751

By ELIZABETH KALFSBEEK/Special to the Democrat
Created: 06/22/2009

When Barry Melton first started practicing law, he was still a
full-time musician, having gained notoriety as "The Fish" in the band
"Country Joe and the Fish." He rented an office and had read up on
how to run a law practice.

"It's fair to say in the first year my time was spent 90 percent on
music and 10 percent on law," Melton said. "I'm not sure that the law
office was paying for more than the rent and phone bill. Today, my
time is spent 90 percent law and 10 percent music."

But not for long. Melton is one of a number of Yolo County employees
accepting early retirement incentives in an effort to help the
county's budget crisis, reducing the need for layoffs.

"The reason (I'm retiring) is dictated more by financial reasons than
by me feeling I had to retire," Melton said. "It feels early to me,
but it's not early for our budget."

According to Yolo County officials, retirement incentives for Melton
-- along with more than 90 others -- will save $3.1 million in the
$24 million budget gap for the 2009-10 fiscal year, beginning July 1.

"To me, it's win, win, win," Melton said. "It's good for the county,
for me and for our department. I truly believe (Tracie Olson) will
make a great public defender," he said of his replacement.

Melton remembers he had a calling for music at a young age. He was
classically trained on guitar at age 5 by a retired New York
Philharmonic violinist. Later, around 8 or 9, Melton studied under
the Kay Kyser Band's guitarist, Milton Norman, and learned big band jazz.

When Melton graduated from high school, his parents wanted him to be
a professional guitar player and play music for political causes. The
graduate had other plans -- he wanted to be a lawyer. So, inspired by
S.I. Hayakawa's book, "Language and Thought and Action," Melton
packed his bags in February 1965 and headed to San Francisco State to
study with the semantics professor. That was his plan, anyway.

What backfired, Melton explained, is that he ended up in San
Francisco in the 1960s as a young guitar prodigy at a time when
guitar was becoming the dominant instrument of American popular music
and San Francisco was the epicenter.

"Just so we're clear, I wanted to be a lawyer, not a guitar player,"
Melton said. "But I was a guitar player. I was faced with the dilemma
of being a poor student versus making a good living as a musician. I yielded."

While it would have taken seven years to become a lawyer, it took
Melton two years after arriving in Northern California to find
himself on the Billboard Hot 100 list, along with contemporaries such
as The Beatles, The Doors, Jimi Hendrix and others. He played the
Monterey Pop Festival in 1967 and Woodstock in 1969 with Country Joe McDonald.

Melton never gave up his dream of being a lawyer and in 1982 he
passed the State of California Bar exam, without attending law school
or graduating from college. He worked in San Francisco, Mendocino and
Sacramento before being hired as Yolo County's Chief Deputy Public
Defender in 1999.

When he was interviewed for the Yolo County position, he was asked
what experience he had managing people.

"I was a band leader for more than 30 years," Melton said. "Musicians
and criminal defense lawyers are fiercely independent people. There
is a magical balance involved in getting the best out of people,
without micromanaging. Yet, it's necessary to keep everyone moving in
the same direction."

Just like with music, there is a creative process in how to approach
a case, where the whole is greater than the sum of the parts, not
unlike a rock 'n' roll enterprise.

"(The Public Defender's office) is a living, breathing laboratory
where ideas can be discussed," Melton said. "There's something gained
from the very fact that we're a group. It makes us better lawyers."

When Melton retires June 30, handing the reigns over to Tracie Olson,
he plans to continue to work on cases part-time. A "rabid baseball
fan," he's looking forward to taking in more River Cats games and
working on other pet projects.

"Ultimately, I'm looking forward to a less structured existence,"
Melton said. "Hopefully I'll be smart enough not to fill it in
entirely. I have a tendency to do that."

What many might not know is that Melton also has inkling toward
science. He has had astronomical observations published in "Sky and
Telescope." Melton may use retirement as way to leave his mark on the
scientific world as well.

"I have this idea that I've done the letters and arts thing to the
extent that is possible for me, and I want to branch into the
sciences," Melton said. "I want to round out the Renaissance man
ideal that I've always had."

While Melton does not liken himself to historical figures such as
Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin or John Adams, he does draw a
parallel: all the above-mentioned great men were recognized in a
number of different fields.

Jefferson, for instance, was not only the author of the Declaration
of Independence, but also a violinist, inventor and scientist.
Franklin, while a statesman, also played the violin, harp and guitar.

Adams, one of Melton's heroes, was a criminal defense attorney for
the British soldiers on trial for the Boston Massacre.

"(Adams) championed an unpopular group of people, not unlike what
public defenders do everyday, because of his deep, personal
conviction in the rule of law," Melton said. "The basic lesson that
we should all remember is that our country was founded on a notion
that all people will get justice in the courts and will get a good defense."

Adams went on to be one of the founders of democracy and the second
President of the United States. He was also a teacher, a writer and a
historical analyst.

"We have a tendency to fill our lives up," Melton said. "One hopes
and aspires to have more free time on the schedule."

Melton admits he's a realist and doesn't think he'll ever have quite
enough free time. But, in a perfect world in which he did, how would
his time be spent?

"I don't know," he said. "That's the whole point."

.

Cambridge native says new book not anti-Beatles

Cambridge native says new book not anti-Beatles

http://news.bostonherald.com/entertainment/music/general/view/20090628cambridge_native_says_new_book_not_anti-beatles/srvc=home&position=also

By Jim Sullivan
Sunday, June 28, 2009

You'd be hard-pressed to find a book with a more confrontational
title than the one Elijah Wald chose for his latest: "How the Beatles
Destroyed Rock 'n' Roll: An Alternative History of Popular Music."

Attack the Beatles and you're attacking rock royalty.

"Please write that I do not hate the Beatles," said Cambridge native
Wald. "I grant you 'destroy' is a provocative word. The title is an
attempt to make people pick up the book. But if Paul McCartney picked
it up, I don't think he'd disagree. He is truly conscious that the
music he loved (as a kid) was gone by the late '60s and the Beatles
were largely responsible for that."

Of course, rock 'n' roll rages on. "Obviously, in some way the title
is inaccurate," said Wald, 50, a blues guitarist and author who
recently finished a stint in Los Angeles teaching at UCLA. "Because
in some form, rock 'n' roll is still around. But there were a couple
of points I was trying to make. One was any shift in music produces
winners and losers, but some stories always get told the same way.
The Beatles story always gets told as them starting as a fun band and
developing into this greater, artistically more-mature thing. I don't
disagree with that, but there's an equal way of telling it. They
started out playing mainstream pop and simply abandoned what had been
their core constituency."

Up to the British invasion, Wald maintains, black and white audiences
often enjoyed the same music, and that music was often dance music.

"The Beatles took a huge part of the huge white rock world with them,
particularly with the release of 'Sgt. Pepper,' " Wald said. "That's
at the core of my argument. We created a split between white and
black music. The way music history has been told over and over is you
hear 'the Beatles introduced Americans to black music,' which sure
would have been news to kids dancing to Motown."

Wald also notes that James Brown's seminal 1962 album, "Live at the
Apollo," was a massive pre-Beatlemania hit in 1963, reaching No. 2.

The Beatles are a hook for the book, which Wald will discuss Tuesday
at Cambridge's Porter Square Books, where he'll also pick a little
guitar. But the Fab Four are by no means its focal point. Wald's
"Alternative History" covers the 20th century of music, "from ragtime
to rap," as he puts it.

He says critics and historians, mostly male, have stressed certain
values - harmonic, melodic and lyrical development - over rhythm.
Audiences, women in particular, respond to rhythm, he argues. If
critics valued innovation and progression, the mainstream favored the
beat. Wald sees his book as a corrective.

Singer-songwriter Tom Waits, to name one notable admirer, praises
Wald's take. "It nailed me to the wall," he said. "Not bad for a
grand, sweeping, in-depth exploration of American music with not one
mention of myself. Wald's book is suave, soulful, ebullient and will
blow out your speakers."

Wald says he was just trying to set the record straight.

"It's a strange position to be considered a contrarian for standing
up for the majority," he said. "I've tried to write a serious,
enjoyable book that's easy to read, but is not a dumbing-down."
--

jim@jimsullivanink.com

.

How Michael Jackson acquired the Beatles catalog

How Michael Jackson acquired the Beatles catalog: a short outline

http://www.examiner.com/x-2082-Beatles-Examiner~y2009m6d27-How-Michael-Jackson-got-the-Beatles-catalog


June 27, 2009

Since the subject has been bandied the past few days with many
misconceptions, here is a brief review of the events that took place
that enabled Michael Jackson to buy the Beatles catalog. It's a very
complex issue that this article can't completely begin to cover, so
we've listed sources at the bottom that offer additional information.

The sale of Northern Songs had been bandied about for some time. EMI
Music had considered, at one time, buying ATV Music, which included
Northern Songs, but never made an offer.

Paul McCartney and Michael Jackson, when they were working together,
discussed investments in music copyrights. Jackson had commented to
McCartney that he might one day buy his and John Lennon's songs.
McCartney took it as a joke.

But in November, 1984, Jackson's representatives called with serious
intentions. "When the ATV music publishing catalogue, which contains
many Lennon-McCartney songs, went on sale, I decided to put up a bid.
I consider myself a musician who is also a businessman and Paul and I
had both learned the hard way about business and the importance of
publishing and royalties and the dignity of song writing," Jackson
was quoted as saying.

The book "Northern Songs" by Brian Southall says Jackson's lawyer
talked individually to both Yoko Ono and Paul McCartney, suggesting
they each each buy the catalog. Both said no. Ono was concerned about
having copyrights of other Beatles' songs, while for McCartney, it
was said the price was more than he expected to pay. There's no
indication in the book that the two considered making a joint deal.

Nobody expected Jackson to pull it off. In fact, according to Robert
Hilburn of the Los Angeles Times in a lengthy article on the Beatles
catalog deal in 1985, negotiators at first thought Jackson was
standing in for McCartney. "It seems Paul's people once told one of
the ATV officers that their client was interested in buying the
copyrights, but that he didn't want to go through lengthy
negotiations. They said, in effect, 'You go out and get your best
offer and we'll pay 10% more,'" Hilburn quoted an unidentified person
involved with the negotiations.

Jackson was said to have told McCartney he planned to buy ATV.
McCartney has said he was never told.

The negotiations took time -- with another buyer entering and exiting
the picture -- but Jackson persisted. In a note to his lawyer
pictured in "Northern Songs," he writes, "John, Please not let's
bargain. I don't want to lose the deal."

He didn't.

Jonathan Morrish, former CBS UK and Sony press chief and Jackson
associate says in the book "Northern Songs," "He'd (Jackson) done
tracks with McCartney, they used to hang out a lot, went to the BRITs
together, so I can completely understand why buying Northern Songs
was something he wanted to do. It was beyond money, and Michael does
not feel he ever betrayed McCartney by buying Northern Songs."

The outcome, not surprisingly, irked McCartney.

"The annoying thing is I have to pay to play some of my own songs.
Each time I want to sing 'Hey Jude' I have to pay," he was quoted by
the UK Mirror.
--

(The most complete source of information on this subject is Brian
Southall's "Northern Songs: The True Story of the Beatles Publishing
Empire," also available through Amazon.co.uk. Another excellent
source is the Los Angeles Times 1985 article by Robert Hilburn, "The
Long and Winding Road.")
--

For more info: [See URL for links below]

Los Angeles Times 1985 article by Robert Hilburn, "The Long and Winding Road"
NPR "All Songs Considered": "The Beatles Catalog and Michael Jackson"
Bloomberg.com: Sony/ATV Said Planning to Keep Beatles Songs Post-Jackson Death
Link to purchase Brian Southall's "Northern Songs: The True Story of
the Beatles Publishing Empire"
Beatle news briefs: Report says Macca won't get chance to take back
Beatles catalog
Could Paul McCartney get back the Beatles catalog from Michael
Jackson? Maybe, if and if ...
With Michael Jackson gone, what happens to the Beatles catalog now?

.

Generation gap in US largest since 1960s

Study: Generation gap in US largest since 1960s

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/06/29/AR2009062900278.html

By HOPE YEN
The Associated Press
Monday, June 29, 2009; 12:10 AM

WASHINGTON -- American adults from young to old disagree increasingly
today on social values ranging from religion to relationships,
creating the largest generation gap since divisions 40 years ago over
Vietnam, civil rights and women's liberation.

A survey being released Monday by the Pew Research Center highlights
a widening age divide after last November's election, when 18- to
29-year-olds voted for Democrat Barack Obama by a 2-to-1 ratio.

Almost eight in 10 people believe there is a major difference in the
point of view of younger people and older people today, according to
the independent public opinion research group. That is the highest
spread since 1969, when about 74 percent reported major differences
in an era of generational conflicts over the Vietnam War and civil
and women's rights. In contrast, just 60 percent in 1979 saw a generation gap.

Asked to identify where older and younger people differ most, 47
percent said social values and morality. People age 18 to 29 were
more likely to report disagreements over lifestyle, views on family,
relationships and dating, while older people cited differences in a
sense of entitlement. Those in the middle-age groups also often
pointed to a difference in manners.

Religion is a far bigger part of the lives of older adults. About
two-thirds of people 65 and older said religion is very important to
them, compared with just over half of those 30 to 49 and 44 percent
of people 18 to 29.

In addition, among adults 65 and older, one-third said religion has
grown more important to them over the course of their lives, while 4
percent said it has become less important and 60 percent said it has
stayed the same.

"Around the notion of morality and work ethic, the differences in
point of view are pretty much felt across the board," said Paul
Taylor, director of the Pew Social and Demographic Trends Project. He
cited a greater tolerance among younger people on cultural issues
such as gay marriage and interracial relationships.

Still, he noted that the generation gap in 2009 seems to be more
tepid in nature than it was in the 1960s, when younger people built a
defiant counterculture in opposing the Vietnam War and demanding
equal rights for women and minorities.

"Today, it's more of a general outlook, a different point of view, a
general set of moral values," Taylor said.

Among the study's other findings:

-Getting old isn't as bad as people believe in terms of health, but
isn't as good when it comes to lifestyle. While more than half of
those under 65 think they will experience memory loss when they are
older, only one-quarter of people 65 and older say they do so. Older
people reported fewer instances than expected of problems such as
serious illness, not being able to drive, being less sexually active
or depressed.

On the other hand, older adults end up having less leisure time than
expected. While 87 percent of those under 65 think they will have
more time for hobbies and other interests in older age, only 65
percent of older people report having it. Life at 65 and older also
fell below expectations when it came to time with family, travel,
having more financial security and less stress.

-Hispanics are more likely to report problems in old age. About 35
percent of Hispanics 65 and older say they have a serious illness,
compared with 20 percent of whites and 22 percent of blacks in the
same age group. More older Hispanics reported being depressed, lonely
or a burden to others than did whites and blacks. They also were less
likely to do volunteer work or be involved in their communities.

-Younger people are more likely to embrace technology. About 75
percent of adults 18 to 30 went online daily, compared with 40
percent of those 65 to 74 and about 16 percent for people 75 and
older. The age gap widened over cell phones and text messaging. About
6 percent of those 65 and older used a cell phone for most or all of
their calls; 11 percent sent or received text messages. That's
compared with 64 percent of adults under 30 for cell phone use and 87
percent for texting.

-Americans differ on when old age begins. On average, they say 68.
People under age 30 believe it begins at 60, while those 65 and older
push the threshold to 74. Of all those surveyed, most said they
wanted to live to 89.

Pew interviewed 2,969 adults by cell phone or landline from Feb. 23
to March 23. The poll has a margin of error of plus or minus 2.6
percentage points. In cases where older persons were too ill or
incapacitated, their adult children were interviewed. Pew also used
surveys conducted by Gallup, CBS and The New York Times to identify
trends since 1969.
---

On the Net:
Pew Social and Demographic Trends:http://pewsocialtrends.org/

.

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Filth and Wisdom: Levon Helm's Electric Dirt

Filth and Wisdom:
Levon Helm's Electric Dirt

http://www.washingtoncitypaper.com/display.php?id=37466

By David Dunlap Jr.
Posted: June 24, 2009

Electric Dirt
Levon Helm
Vanguard

Robbie Robertson may have written "The Night They Drove Old Dixie
Down," but the song would've come off as hokey carpetbagger artifice
if drummer Levon Helm hadn't sang it with such gritty earnest. In
fact, as the lone American in the Band, the Arkansas native lent
every ounce of his ample Southern authenticity to the rest of the
members, all Canadians. It was as if merely being in the Band with
Helm baptized Robertson, Rick Danko, and the others with a generous
splash of moonshine. Helm continues to demonstrate a love and
knowledge of all strains of Southern American music, despite having
abandoned Turkey Scratch, Ark., for Woodstock, N.Y., some 40 years
ago. His last record, 2007's Grammy-nabbing Dirt Farmer, is as raw
and engaging a country folk record as any in recent memory. Electric
Dirt, his latest, faces South, too. Helm kicks it off with a cover of
the Grateful Dead's "Tennessee Jed," which sounds more like a real
country standard than Jerry Garcia and Robert Hunter's original. And
his take on Carter Stanley's "White Dave" is a mournful masterpiece
that sounds like the songs on the slightly superior Dirt Farmer.
"Growin' Trade" is an aggie lament about a good farmer who is forced
to start growing America's biggest cash crop, despite its illegality.
Helm teases with an intro that would trick a straight person into
thinking it's a version of the Band's "The Weight." The catchy hook,
blue-collar vibe, and reverence for marijuana make it sound like the
best Neil Young song he's never sung. Helm teams with New Orleans
legend Allen Toussaint for the first time since Toussaint arranged
the horns for the Band's classic live gatefold double album from
1972, Rock of Ages. The resulting covers of Randy Newman's "Kingfish"
and Billy Taylor's "I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to Be Free" sound
as rich and engaging as the songs Helm and Toussaint crafted during
their primes. Helm's few missteps on Electric Dirt occur when he gets
bluesy. A cover of the Staple Singers' "Move Along Train" sounds like
a selection from a house band at a strip mall blues club. Helm, more
than most, has earned his blues credentials by growing up with and
later headlining the King Biscuit Blues Festival, but his pair of
Muddy Waters covers, "Stuff You Gotta Watch" and "You Can't Lose What
You Ain't Never Had," are tepid tributes to the Father of the Chicago
Blues. Still, with all due respect to Don Henley, Phil Collins, and
Peter Criss, Helm is the greatest singer-drummer in rock history­he
anchored one of the greatest bands ever and whipped throat cancer's
ass. And despite Electric Dirt's few rare moments of inauthenticity,
Helm is still rock's most authentic man.

.

OBIT: Sky Saxon 1946-2009

[6 items]

Sky Saxon RIP

http://www.electricroulette.com/2009/06/sky-saxon-rip.html

06/25/2009

Sky Saxon, vox-ace and genius behind The Seeds has passed away. Sky's
partner, Sabrina broke the next on Facebook saying "Sky has passed
over and YaHoWha is waiting for him at the gate. He will soon be home
with his Father. I'm so sorry I couldn't keep him here with us. More
later. I'm sorry."
Saxon was in Salt Lake City, Utah and cut it through doo-wop and R&B
groups before forming the The Seeds who gave us 'Can't Seem to Make
You Mine' and the vicious brilliance of 'Pushin' Too Hard'. Saxon's
vocals were always a weird, wonderful noise mixed with pained howls
and finger waggin' sermonizing.

He broke up the Seeds in '67 to form the Sky Saxon Blues Band to
release one LP, 'A Full Spoon of Seedy Blues' before reestablishing
the Seeds. During the '70s he became a member of the Source Family
religious group, a Hollywood Hills commune led by YaHoWha who gave
Saxon the names Sunlight and Arlick.

The Seeds remain one of the finest examples of psychedelic garage
punk from the '60s underground and every reader should go and pay
tribute by listening to some Seeds at full tilt.

-------

R.I.P. Sky Saxon

http://www.austin360.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/austin/music/entries/2009/06/25/rip_sky_saxon.html

By Joe Gross
June 25, 2009

Sky Saxon, founder of the brilliant '60s garage band the Seeds, died
Thursday morning at St. David's Hospital.

The newly minted Austinite, born Richard Marsh, was hospitalized
Monday with what doctors suspected was an infection of the internal
organs, but cause of death has not yet been released.

Saxon fell ill last Thursday, but performed at Saturday at Antone's
with recent Austin collaborators Shapes Have Fangs.

Sky's wife Sabrina Saxon posted news of his passing on Facebook this
morning: "Sky has passed over and YaHoWha is waiting for him at the
gate. He will soon be home with his Father. I'm so sorry I couldn't
keep him here with us. More later. I'm sorry."

We are sorry as well.

Saxon was the founder of the Seeds, one of the all-time great
first-wave garage rock bands. If the Rolling Stones was the sound of
five British guys trying to imitate Muddy Waters and Howlin Wolf and
failing in new and strange ways, '60s garage rock was the sound of
American kids trying to imitate the Stones and (similarly,
brilliantly) missing the mark.

The Seeds fell together in 1965 around a core of Saxon and guitarist
Jan Savage with keyboardist Daryl Hooper and drummer Rick Andridge.
The bands's first couple of singles ­ 'Can't Seem To Make You Mine'
and 'Pushin' Too Hard' ­ are '60s punk classics, snotty and fuzzy and
brief. Check out their first two albums ­ 'The Seeds' and 'A Web of
Sound,' both from that magic rock year 1966 ­ for perfect examples of
proto-psychedelic roar.

After a few more records, Saxon broke up the Seeds in 1970, joined
the spiritual commune the Source Family, adopted the name Sunlight
and played with the Source Family band YaHoWha 13 now and then.

He continuted to make albums since with various lineups, distributing
his music via the Internet at www.skysaxon.com. He came to Austin in
March for the second annual Psych Fest and never really left,
according to his publicist, keeping a very low profile until recently.

We profiled him here in March. [See below.]
http://www.austin360.com/music/content/music/stories/xl/2009/03/0312xlmusic.html

--------

Garage Rock Icon and Seeds Front-man Sky Saxon Dies in Hospital

http://www.exclaim.ca/articles/generalarticlesynopsfullart.aspx?csid1=133&csid2=844&fid1=39487

6/25/2009
By Brock Thiessen

According to various media reports, Seeds front-man and all-around
garage rock legend Sky Saxon has died. Saxon, who was born Richard
Marsh, was hospitalized in South Austin, Texas, on Monday (June 22)
due to an undiagnosed condition and remained in critical condition in
the ICU in St. David's South Austin Hospital, where he passed away
this morning, LA Weekly's West Coast Sound blog reports.

Saxon's wife, Sabrina, broke the news earlier today on her Facebook,
writing "Sky has passed over and YaHoWha is waiting for him at the
gate. He will soon be home with his Father. I'm so sorry I couldn't
keep him here with us. More later. I'm sorry."

At this point, the cause of death is unknown, but doctors suspect an
infection of the internal organs, Austin360.com reports.

Many believe Saxon was born around 1946, but his exact date of birth
is not clear.

Saxon founded the Seeds in 1965 and went on to pen such garage
classics as "Pushin' Too Hard" and "Can't Seem to Make You Mine."
After the Seeds broke up in 1970, Saxon joined the spiritual commune
the Source Family, adopted the name Sunlight and played periodically
with the Source Family band YaHoWha 13.

Saxon was to join a Seeds/Love/Electric Prunes tour this summer as
part of the California '66 Revue. No announcements have been made yet
regarding the future of the tour.

--------

Seeds Frontman Sky Saxon Dies in Austin

http://www.spinner.com/2009/06/25/seeds-frontman-sky-saxon-dies-in-austin/

6/25/09

Sky Saxon, lead singer and bassist of '60s garage rockers the Seeds,
died Thursday in an Austin, Texas hospital. He had been in the ICU
since Monday suffering from an undisclosed illness -- doctors
suspected an internal organ infection -- until his wife, Sabrina,
announced his passing via Facebook.

Influenced heavily by the Rolling Stones, Saxon -- born Richard Marsh
-- founded the Seeds in 1965 in California. The next year, the
psychedelic rockers released two albums, 'The Seeds' and 'A Web of
Sound,' and had hits with 'Can't Seem to Make You Mine' and 'Pushin'
Too Hard,' their most successful song. In 1967, the band released two
more albums: 'Future,' a psychedelic rock album, and 'A Full Spoon of
Seedy Blues,' which was credited to the Sky Saxon Blues Band and
featured liner notes by the legendary Muddy Waters.

After some lineup changes and a few more commercially unsuccessful
albums, Saxon dissolved the band in the early '70s. He joined a
California commune, the Source Family, adopted the name Sunlight and
occasionally performed with their trippy house band, the Ya Ho Wa 13.
In 1989, Saxon reformed the Seeds to tour with other '60s acts like
Big Brother and the Holding Company, and Arthur Lee and Love. They
toured again in 2003, and Saxon kept busy musically, releasing an
album last year, and recording with the Smashing Pumpkins. Though he
fell ill last Thursday, Saxon still managed to play a short gig on
Saturday night at Austin rock club Antone's.

Earlier today, Sabrina Sherry Smith Saxon wrote on her Facebook page,
"Sky has passed over and YaHoWha is waiting for him at the gate. He
will soon be home with his Father. I'm so sorry I couldn't keep him
here with us. More later. I'm sorry." No other announcements have been made.

--------

NELS CLINE ON SKY SAXON: "MY FIRST ROCK IDOL"

http://larecord.com/news/2009/06/25/nels-cline-obituary-on-sky-saxon-my-first-rock-idol/

June 25th, 2009

Guitarist Nels Cline (spotted most recently with Wilco) grew up in
the shadow of the Seeds and Sky Saxon and later went on to perform
and record with Sky himself. He takes some time today to send L.A.
RECORD these thoughts:

I am truly saddened to learn of the death of Sky Saxon. As a boy
growing up in Los Angeles, Sky Saxon was my first rock idol of sorts.
The Seeds' music was important to me, sure, but Sky's amazing
charisma­as he appeared rather ubiquitously on TV shows like "Boss
City" and "The Groovy Show" around 1966­was galvanizing. I would
stare in disbelief as he­clad in shiny satin Nehru shirts bedazzled
with some gaudy brooch­would gyrate around lasciviously, holding the
microphone in every cool way imaginable. He seemed from another
planet. I thought he was amazing.

Years later, in the late '70s, Sky became known as "Sunlight," and
manifested a few eccentric and quite acid-soaked (or so they sounded)
recordings that led credence to the rampant stories of his decaying
mind and artistry. He came into the record store I worked at for
years and­with his face covered in a long mane of hair, massive
beard, and shades­went silently through the stacks with wraith-like
fingers. I was dismayed and a bit freaked out by this creature­the
former beautiful god of rock 'n' roll otherness.

But only a few years ago as my friend and colleague Carla Bozulich
and I were going into our local Trader Joe's, we ran into a bass
player friend of mine named Rick, who had in tow a gray-haired, aging
hippie type of man with an unavoidably compelling face and style.
Carla, not normally interested in old hippies, immediately whispered
to me, "Who's THAT?!" Of course, you know it was Sky Saxon. And Rick
was playing in the new version of the Seeds, recording just down the
street from Carla's house! Long story short, I went and hung out a
bit, ended up recording a song about a corrupt judge on the
then-upcoming Seeds record. (Sorry that the titles escape me today.)
Sky was really quite deferential to me. Plus he seemed to be in quite
good shape. He gave me a record, recently issued, of some of his
pre-Seeds 1950s doo-wop-ish rock songs. How old IS this guy? I wondered.

We ended up doing a duo gig of almost totally improvised music one
night at Zen Sushi. I was ecstatic. I suggested we call ourselves the
Flower Lady & Her Assistant, but Sky immediately countered with the
Flower God Men and Their Assistants. I had gear problems on the gig,
and Sky had a bit too much sake before we played, but it was amazing
to me. There were barely 30 people there anyway! I started plotting
ways to do some more improvising with him. He was going off in a very
Beat-style manner. I thought of collaborations with my trio, The
Singers, but then Sky went off to more European touring, headed back
to Shasta. Rick moved to New York…

I won't ever be able to do those things with Sky. I feel lucky to
have ever even seen him on TV, yet alone to have played some wild,
extemporaneous psychedelia with him. They say Mick Jagger copped tons
of his moves and style, and I believe it. But there was so much more
to this man that remains to be revealed.

- Nels Cline
Glendale, CA
6/25/09

-------

Fest hosted by Austin's guardian Angels of psych

http://www.austin360.com/music/content/music/stories/xl/2009/03/0312xlmusic.html

By Joe Gross
AMERICAN-STATESMAN STAFF
Thursday, March 12, 2009

It has been said before and it bears saying again: All respect to San
Francisco and all, but Austin is the birthplace of psychedelic rock,
Texas is the soil from which it sprouted. Starting with the 13th
Floor Elevators, continuing with Golden Dawn up through the Butthole
Surfers in the '80s and '90s and the Black Angels, Cavedweller and
Shapes Have Fangs today, psychedelia is as important to the musical
fabric of Austin as blues, folk or country.

Which is why the folks in the Austin psych rock act the Black Angels
are throwing their second annual Psych Fest this weekend at Radio
Room, sort of a warm-up gig for that venue before it's used for South
by Southwest.

Trippy buzz bands such as the Wooden Ships, Dead Meadow and A Place
to Bury Strangers join the aforementioned locals and dozens more,
including Sky Sunlight Saxon of legendary Los Angeles garage rock
titans the Seeds. Not too shabby for a festival that's only on its
second year.

Black Angels leader and fest organizer Christian Bland wasn't wild
about last year's middling attendance at the first Psych Fest and
wasn't sure if a second was possible. "Then my friends started asking
about it," Bland says. " We had more buzz than I thought."

Most of the out-of-town bands on the bill are acts the Black Angels
have played with, including louder-than-God shoegazers A Place to
Bury Strangers and stoner rockers Dead Meadow, who have mastered the
unique lope of their particular brand of hard rock.

A few couldn't make it this year: "The Ravonettes were supposed to
headline one night," Bland says. "And Brian Jonestown Massacre were
going to play one night; it was going to be us, Brian Jonestown, then
us with Roky, but that wasn't able to happen."

Oh, yeah. Roky.

The Black Angels have moseyed to the head of the current crop of
Austin psych rockers. Not only does their music blend the fevered
noise of the Velvet Underground with the sun-staring trippiness of
Pink Floyd, they've also had their hip card punched in a way very few
others have ­ they backed up Roky Erickson on a short West Coast tour
last year. While Roky couldn't play this year's Psych Fest, Bland is
effusive about the experience playing with him.

"It was as amazing as it was surreal," he says. "The Elevators are a
band that we all adored. It took a little while for him to warm up to
us, I think, but eventually he felt comfortable enough with us to
play a few more Elevators songs than he usually plays. We ended up
learning the first five songs on their first album, 'You're Gonna
Miss Me,' 'Splash One,' 'Reverberation,' 'Rollercoaster' and 'Don't
Fall Down.'" Bland says the Halloween 2008 show in Los Angeles was
filmed, and they hope to have a DVD available by Friday.

Sky Saxon captures the spirit of psychedelic rock

The most unexpected guest at Psych Fest 2009 is Sky Saxon. Born
Richard Marsh, Saxon formed the Seeds in Los Angeles in 1965. The
bands's first couple of singles ­ 'Can't Seem To Make You Mine' and
'Pushin' Too Hard' ­ are garage punk classics, snotty and fuzzy and
brief. Their first two albums ­ 'The Seeds' and 'A Web of Sound,'
both from that magic rock year 1966 ­ are perfect examples of
proto-psychedelic rock. After a few more records, Saxon broke up the
Seeds in 1970, joined the spiritual commune the Source Family,
adopted the name Sunlight and played with the Source Family band
YaHoWha 13 now and then.

Saxon has made many albums since with various lineups. These days, he
distributes his music like many truly independent artists, especially
those who like to keep a lot of music in print ­ via the Internet at
www.skysaxon.com. At the Psych Fest, he'll be backed by Shapes Have
Fangs, which he has renamed World Spirits Band for the occasion.

'I needed a name I could get behind,' Saxon said from his home in
California. 'Sky Saxon and World Spirits Band initiates this band.'

As you might have guessed, Saxon is old school ­ he talks like a man
who has spent more time than most on the business end of psychedelic
technology, musical, chemical, spiritual, whatever. We touch on
everything from oil ('you can't just take it out of the ground and
not expect payback from the planet' ­ a pretty fair assessment) to
file sharing ('Music takes a long time to make and as soon as you
make it, it's out there. I can see a Third World country bootlegging
your music and that's OK, but Americans doing it to Americans, come on.').

He's perfect for Pysch Fest 2. He might not be from Texas, but it's
that sort of one band against the world spirit (so to speak) that
infuses psychedelic rock then and now ­ it's a state of mind.
--

Psych Fest 2 is Friday-Sunday at the Radio Room (508 E. Sixth St.).
Music starts at 9 p.m. Friday, 1 p.m. Saturday and Sunday. Three-day
passes are $45, individual tickets are $15 per day. Full lineup at
www.livemusiccapitol.com.

.

YA HO WHA 13: A Space and Time Out of This Reality

YA HO WHA 13:
A SPACE AND TIME OUT OF THIS REALITY

http://larecord.com/interviews/2009/06/22/ya-ho-wha-13-interview-a-space-and-time-out-of-this-reality/

June 22nd, 2009

Ya Ho Wha 13 were the band formed out of the pre-dawn practice
sessions that served also as morning meditation for the Source
Family, the L.A.-area religious sect that ran their own health food
restaurant during the '70s. They released nine albums but recorded
hours of material. Drag City has collected nine unreleased songs for
this month's Magnificence in the Memory. This interview by Dan Collins.
--

--How did you get your name, Isis?

Isis Aquarian (Source Family historian): It was the family name given
to me. Father said that the names we were given were for several
reasons­either because that's the name that we needed to learn from,
or that's the name of who we were, or that's the name we needed to
get qualities from. In other words, whatever name we had, nobody
could go on an ego trip about because you never knew why you had that name.

--You never had an ego trip about being named after an Egyptian goddess?

No, not really! I always related to her, though. Manly P. Hall from
the Philosophical Research Society­who did Secret Teachings of All
Ages­was a mentor to Father when he was Jim Baker, before he became
Father and started the Source. And we had gone over to see Manly P.
Hall in the early days, and he handed Father a list of names, and he
said 'These names are the names to give the people in the Family.'
And we went back and people either picked what name they liked, or
Father gave them a name. And somebody gave me the name Isis, and I
didn't relate to it. I said, 'No, I'm not going to take that name!'
And Father was standing there and he said, 'No, that's your name.'

--What was your original role in the Family and in the Source?

I had known Father as Jim Baker, when he had his other restaurant
called the Old World. He had three restaurants­the Aware Inn, the Old
World, and he opened up the Source. And they were all within, I would
say, four or five blocks of each other on Sunset Boulevard. And they
were all very famous. And he had his first two as Jim Baker. I met
him, he had the Old World, and he was living with his wife of the
time, Dora, a French girl. And I became friends with Dora, and I hung
out at the Old World. And I knew Jim, but we never seemed to really
connect, which was very strange, because he was very good looking,
and he was the kind that would flirt with everybody. But there just
seemed to be a hold on us at the time. But then I went my way, and he
went his way, and I ended up living with Ron Raffaelli. He was a
famous rock photographer­he was known as Jimi Hendrix's photographer.
That's how I met him. I was asked to go on a shoot with Jimi Hendrix,
and we became engaged. And I had my life at the studio with him for a
couple years. And I had heard that Jim had opened up the Source, and
was being known as Father, and was starting a spiritual family. We
were looking for a group of people with long hair that looked like
Jesus, because we were doing a poster for Jesus Christ Superstar. And
I said to Ron, 'I know where there's a bunch of people running around
looking like Jesus. They're at this place called the Source! I'm
going to go down there­I'll get us some models.' So I drove down to
the Source, and oh my god, the place was incredible. As soon as you
stepped near it, you knew something was happening. And I stepped onto
the patio, and I asked for Jim Baker and somebody said 'Oh, you mean
Father.' And he came walking out, and he was like 6'3', and he looked
like Moses. He had long hair and a beard, and he was no longer the
Jim Baker I knew. And I was immediately smitten, as they say, and he
just embraced me and said 'I was wondering how long it was going to
take you to come home­to come back.' And I basically forgot what I
was even doing there. And he invited me to come to morning meditation
the next day, and then I basically never left. So I just walked out
of my home life and became a full time part of the Source family.

--How old were you?

I was in my late twenties. A lot of the kids were sixteen, seventeen,
and in their early twenties. I'm not saying I was the oldest one
there, but I had also known Jim Baker so I wasn't intimidated by him.
Most people were finding their guru and their masters, and I found
him as my earthly spiritual father, for sure. But I knew that I had a
destiny with him. I basically became his right hand­that's what he
called me. The Family had other names for me. 'Bulldog'­you know
there's a bulldog in every family. And 'hatchet lady,' 'dragon lady'…

--Did you like those nicknames?

It didn't bother me, no. In fact, 'Dragon Lady' was kind of
endearing! You had your role, and you played it out, and Father
always had my back.

--When did the band Ya Ho Wa 13 start?

We had musicians in the Family that would always gather and play. We
weren't doing anything 'musically,' but we did realize we had some
very talented musicians. Music seemed to be playing all around the
house. And that was the thing to do back then. Everybody carried a
guitar. It was like music was the new language. And one day I think
Octavius came in and was talking about being a drummer, and a lot of
people had been musicians, and just gave it up when they came
in­whatever any of us were, we gave up when we came in. It was of no
necessity at that point. And I just remember Father one day saying,
'Wait a minute. I have a drummer. I have a guitar player. I have a
bass player. We have singers. We have a band. Let's do some music!'
So, bands started being formed to see what we wanted to do with them.
And at this point, Father wasn't really in them­he was just having
fun seeing what we could do. And because we were very famous, and
everybody came to the Source, all the movie producers, directors,
musicians­John Lennon was there all the time­they all came there. So
we figured, 'Well jeez, we can just start letting people hear it and
see if we can do something with it.'

--I heard you would play every day from 3 to 6 in the morning! When
did you sleep?

Right! That was when we gathered for morning meditation. Father would
be so full of energy and so excited, and he would say, 'Let's go to
the band room!' And the band room was just a converted garage off the
meditation room, and speakers had been hooked up, so no matter what
was happening, we could all hear it. Because we all couldn't fit in
the band room.

--A lot of your movement's spiritual beginnings and influences have
been chronicled. But what seem less well known are the specifics of
the musical side of things.

He formed Ya Ho Wa 13 and started playing with it, and that was like
his signature when he started playing with the Family. It's not like
he could play or sing. It was another way of morning meditation. It
was another way of his talking about the wisdom teachings. He often
said, 'Long after I'm gone, my teachings will continue because of the
music we're doing now. Music has no barriers. Everyone understands
music because it's a soul thing.'

--One of the interesting things about your band is that, given your
spiritual and cosmological underpinnings and your emphasis on
improvisation and spontaneity, I was expecting you to sound like Sun
Ra or something jazzy. But you guys are a rock 'n' roll combo.

Very much so. When the band first now started getting back together,
I was wondering how it was going to work. Because when you have the
head guy no longer there, how does that work? And I know the public's
been going on the albums that had Father in it, like Penetration. So
when the three Brothers got together and decided to continue playing
as Ya Ho Wa 13, it was interesting to see how that was going to play
out: Octavius, drummer, Djin, guitar, and Sunflower, bass.

--Was there ever fighting about the music?

There were disagreements, but we never got into bickering or arguing.
The short time we lived together was so incredible because we lived
in a space and time out of this reality. Certain things didn't exist
that exist for us now that we're back. We lived in a kind of free
zone where certain rules and regulations didn't exist. We related to
people's souls, not their personalities. When the Family
dispersed­and now we're trying to deal with each other again thirty
years later­we're just starting to relearn those techniques. In 2001,
we had our first big reunion, and the last ten years we've just been
dealing on a social level with each other and trying to be nice. A
lot of stuff has come up that we never got to work on, because we all
just left. It was like The Day the Earth Stood Still. We looked
around and nobody was there.

--I remember reading that the Beatles were a big influence on the band.

I think definitely because that's what the band grew up with. The
Beatles were very cosmic. They had stepped over into spirituality,
and they were given incredible messages.

--Were there specific Beatles songs that you wanted to emulate?

No, once the Family was formed we didn't listen to other people's music.

--You never stepped into a discotheque or club and heard another band?

The only time that happened was in the early days when we did try
stuff like that. We got booked at the Whisky a Go Go, and we walked
into the Whisky a Go Go in our robes and our long hair­and we did get
laughed at! But when they got up on the stage, everybody was quiet
because they could sing. They had some good music happening.

--But you must have noticed that at the same time you were making
this music, bands such as Pink Floyd, they were doing the same…

Oh, yes, absolutely! I do know that we opened the Crater Festival in
1976, sunrise, here in Hawaii for the 200th anniversary of America,
and we opened for Sly and the Family Stone. We asked for that slot,
and we led the thousands of people in Diamondhead Crater in star
exercise, and we got them chanting.

--Do you think if any band forms, even if it's just four or five
people, that something spiritual forms?

Music seems to touch the largest amount of people at one time than
anything I know about all over the world. It has no barriers, it has
no race, it doesn't distinguish between color, religion, and
nationality. You can put a song on and put it out over the airwaves,
and thousands of people, their soul can get out of it whatever it
gets out of it.

--Contemporaries of yours in the avant-garde, such as La Monte Young
and Angus Maclise, have kind of said that there is a spiritual plane
you can achieve with pure musical tones. Was there a certain way of
playing for you that was more in tune with your spiritual quest?

We were into frequencies. Like­the F note is the sound of nature. And
the fact that vibration, if you tune into like a F note and another F
note comes before, then you vibrate. Like a tuning fork. He tried
that with the gong and the kettle drum. We had the gong from Dr.
Zhivago­the movie! He bought it and we still have it, and it's huge!
Often in morning meditation, when we weren't even doing anything with
the music, he would have us all go into meditation, and he would do
the gong throughout chakras because the gong had the frequencies­all
the frequencies of the chakras.

--There was kind of a no-drug policy, wasn't there? Despite your band
being considered psychedelic?

I think marijuana, since we don't consider it a drug­that is probably
being used.

--But psychedelics like mushrooms or LSD?

No, no, we didn't do it in the Family, and as far as I know, it's not
being done now. The family dispersed and we all went our ways and
created a new life with new members, and so some thirty years later,
we all are not on the same page and we are not responsible for what
anyone does or does not. As human beings now out here on our own, it
has made it somewhat harder to 'ante up' as they say.

--Sky Saxon, who joined the band later, has been known to have some
drug issues. Did he have those when he was in the band?

Sky Saxon was an entity unto himself. He does his thing. I'm talking
about Ya Ho Wa 13.

--Whoa! Are you saying the album he recorded with Ya Ho Wa 13 was
outside the realm of what you consider their music?

Um… well, during the Family days, after Father left and said he was
no longer going to be in the band, he invited Sky­'Arelick' was his
family name­into the band. And they renamed the band Fire Water Air.
And it either didn't do anything, or we moved. We didn't accomplish
or finish a lot of what we did because we would move and go on to
something else, and it was disruptive of what we were doing.

--Was Sky part of the Source?

He was. He would kind of come and go, though. Father loved him, but
he was always just Sky! The way he is now is the way he was back
then. And I think Sky does a lot of things that the rest of us don't do.

--Was there a conscious decision about which instruments to use in the band?

No, that's just the instrumentation that the band played. And I think
it's the basic formation of a band that you have drum, guitar, and bass, right?

--Definitely in rock 'n' roll. But did you ever introduce any other
instruments?

I think they brought in Pythias for a while on guitar, and Lovely
with a violin. Lovely was Andre Previn's daughter. That was one of
the forms of Ya Ho Wa 13 that Father was trying to put together. And
they brought in a couple other brothers­Home, who sang and played
guitar, and Rhythm, who played piano. After we left L.A., we tried
different forms of the band, when we moved to San Francisco and moved
to Hawaii.

--Brian Wilson considered himself a very spiritual songwriter, and
made many songs about Hawaii. You still live there now! Is there a
spiritual purity there?

There was to us. Hawaii is very clean. The air is clean. We don't
have pollution. We have nice weather all year. It's called paradise
for a reason!

--Were you happy with the Obama presidency being that he was a
resident of Hawaii?

I don't really 'do' politics, but as far as being a local Hawaii boy,
he's right here where I live­Kahlua. When he stayed here, he was just
like three blocks down the street. We saw him on the beach all the time.

--Did he go surfing?

He tried to, but the Secret Service wouldn't let him surf anymore!
--

YA HO WHA 13'S MAGNIFICENCE IN THE MEMORY RELEASES TUE., JUNE 23, ON
DRAG CITY. VISIT YA HO WHA 13 AT YAHOWHA13.COM. FOR MORE INFORMATION
ON YA HO WHA 13 AND THE SOURCE FAMILY, SEE THE SOURCE: THE UNTOLD
STORY OF FATHER YOD, YA HO WHA 13 AND THE SOURCE FAMILY BY ISIS AND
ELECTRICITY AQUARIAN AVAILABLE NOW FROM PROCESS MEDIA. PROCESSMEDIAINC.COM.

.

San Francisco Mime Troupe turns 50

[2 items]

San Francisco Mime Troupe turns 50

http://www.insidebayarea.com/entertainment/ci_12682325?nclick_check=1

By Pat Craig
CONTRA COSTA TIMES
Posted: 06/24/2009

It was a different time in 1959, really different ­ Ike was in the
White House, the Barbie doll had just been introduced and the really
cool kids on campus were well groomed in Ivy League togs and
listening to folk tunes.

At the same time, the R.G. Davis Mime Troupe was evolving from
traditional mime and dance into a sort of avant grade theater company
combining mime, commedia dell'arte and a healthy dollop of politics
and shock. The result set the foundation for what became the San
Francisco Mime Troupe and was perhaps a preview of the '60s in San Francisco.

The company, still a collective, still ultraliberal and still kicking
one target or another, celebrates its 50th year Saturday (on its
traditional July 4 opening) with its latest show, "Too Big To Fail,"
which it describes as a "tale of greed and sacrifice, high finance,
love, goats, and the terrible curse that tore our little village
apart "... Credit!"

Wilma Bonet, a veteran Bay Area actress and member of the mime
troupe, is directing this year's production.

"Yes, it is quite unusual and quite an honor with all this
tradition," she says of the milestone anniversary. "Really, though, I
haven't had that much of a chance to think about it. We've been so
busy just putting together the show."

In its early years, the company performed late nights in the SF
Actors' Workshop's Encore Theater, with shows that occasionally would
lapse into nudity (before the Broadway topless boom) and language
similar to that which got Lenny Bruce busted in the late '50s and early '60s.

All of that evolved into the troupe's familiar outdoor shows, which
in the beginning often were broken up by police, mostly for violating
park regulations and for obscenity ­ something that seems quaint
compared to the outdoor excesses of the Summer of Love and the
guerrilla theater movement that flourished throughout the Bay Area in
the mid- and late-'60s.

Divisions arise

R.G. Davis is still a member of the troupe's board, but is not
actively involved with productions. He broke with the company some
years ago over a series of disagreements, including over the move to
replace the troupe's commedia dell'arte, a centuries-old, highly
stylized form of Italian comedy usually performed in masks, with
something more akin to musical comedy.

"I don't do musical comedy," he said flatly in a telephone
conversation. "Musical comedy/theater is melodrama used by the SFMT,
Hollywood and Broadway."

Another hotly debated issue in the troupe is whether to aim its comic
barbs mainly at lampoonable government personalities ("This works
when the Republicans are in power but not so when the Democrats are
in office," notes Davis) or delve into the issues ­ rather than
personalities ­ behind social problems.

In a theater troupe that is both politically charged and geared to
activism, disagreement and descent are part of the package, but
through it all, the group has managed to remain vital and together
for 50 years.

Internally, the group has been in an ongoing dialogue about mission
and methodology, but the company has managed to show a unified
external front and produce at least one show a year for the past
half-century, which makes it one of the oldest theater companies in
the Bay Area.

Joan Holden, whose ex-husband, Arthur, was a member of the troupe
from nearly the beginning, has observed much of the company history,
"as sort of a mime troupe groupie."

"I remember the first time I saw the troupe was at the Encore
(Theatre) on Mason, where the Actors' Workshop was," says Holden, who
has written 30 scripts for the company since the mid-'60s. "This
would have been 1960 or '61, and I saw them doing commedia dell art
and I had never seen that much energy on stage. I'd never seen people
move like that. I fell in love with the company right there."

New issues

Holden found herself at loggerheads with Davis over the
commedia/melodrama question in the late '60s and '70s. She and others
viewed melodrama as something of an American version of commedia,
more accessible to audiences and a more flexible form to present
stories. And it seemed to resonate with the audience.

"Melodrama turned out to have this undreamed-of power," she said.
Holden says she and many mime troupe members found the form much more
flexible and adaptable to addressing the issues at hand, particularly
to an American audience more familiar with the form of melodrama than
with commedia and its stylized costumes, conventions and stock characters.

Right around this time, she added, the troupe found itself "mobbed by
the women's movement," and discovered feminist issues also needed a
voice in the troupe's productions. "The passions of the play were
usually incendiary and we would see radical lesbians start necking in
the back of the crowd with their shirts off. We got giant crowds and
found we had tapped into something huge and very powerful, speaking
the zeitgeist."

Throughout the '60s and '70s, particularly in the Vietnam War era,
The Mime Troupe toured extensively and was a particularly hot ticket
on college campuses, where veteran performer Dan Chumley became
acquainted with the group. He wound up joining it from 1967 to 2003.

"I was at Harvard University and they came in the middle of the whole
Vietnam War thing. And I became a technician because one guy quit, so
I dropped out and traveled with them; it seemed reasonable at the
time," says Chumley. "The hardest part was telling my dad I was
dropping out of Harvard to travel with the mime troupe, but it was
just as good of an education."

The experience taught him "an important new way of looking at life."

Over the years, the company has retained some longtime members, then
picked up kindred spirits along the way, either on the road or in San
Francisco.

Ed Holmes, who enlisted in the Navy in Cleveland and enrolled in Cal
State Hayward when he was discharged in 1973, fell in love with the
mime troupe the first time he saw it, but he didn't join until 1986
after stints in the Berkeley Mime Troupe, Antenna Theatre,
commercials and TV work, a long stretch with Fratelli Bologna, the
San Francisco-based sketch comedy group, and a stint in Los Angeles
for the obligatory stab at movies.

Unique circumstances

Holmes figures at least part of the troupe's success can be
attributed to the Bay Area weather.

"Both the physical and mental weather," he says. "We've always
performed in outdoor venues and we've never been rained out. You
couldn't do that in Seattle or Portland; it's too hot in LA. And the
mental weather, that's the magic of the Bay Area ­ progressive with
an experimental attitude of, 'Why don't we give it a try?'"

For the past eight years, Holmes has taken advantage of his physical
appearance to play former Vice President Dick Cheney, whom he played
not only in Mime Troupe shows, but in a run of "Dick and Dubya," a
successful comedy with Bill Allen from Duck's Breath Mystery Theatre,
and a separate production called "The Biggest Dick in America."

But the Mime Troupe is what he enjoys and he's pleased to be
returning in this year's anniversary show.

"It does feel good to be back for it; kind of a historical honor," he
says. "It's really a grand style of theater."
--

Reach Pat Craig at pcraig@bayareanewsgroup.com
--

Theater preview
WHAT: San Francisco Mime Troupe presents the satire "Too Big To Fail"
WHEN: 2 p.m. Saturday and July 5 WHERE: Mission Dolores Park, 18th
and Dolores streets, S.F. HOW MUCH: Free MORE INFORMATION: The troupe
performs the play at venues through the Bay Area through Sept. 27; to
see a complete schedule, go to www.sfmt.org.

--------

Bay Area has seen its share of political comedy

http://www.contracostatimes.com/entertainment/ci_12689363?nclick_check=1

By Pat Craig
Contra Costa Times
Posted: 06/25/2009

The Bay Area has seen more than its share of entertainers who've
gleefully mixed comedy and politics. Here are a few examples:

MORT SAHL: Clad in a cardigan and toting the newspaper, Mort Sahl
pretty much invented the counterculture, at least in comedy, from the
time he stepped on stage in the '50s. He simply commented on what he
read ­ pointed political commentary that was wickedly funny and
opened the floodgates for a new style of humor that found itself a
home in San Francisco at places like the hungry i and the Purple Onion.

LENNY BRUCE: Another comic pioneer who made frequent stops in the Bay
Area, Bruce, whose career was peppered with heroin addiction and
obscenity arrests, explored new regions of humor in sex and politics
and created an anything-goes vocabulary for American stand-up comedians.

THE SMOTHERS BROTHERS: The brotherly duo was starting at about the
same time at the S.F. Mime Troupe. They were students at San Jose
State performing at campus dives with bits of silliness and parodies
of folk songs which Tom Smothers, the slow brother, butchered, much
to the dismay of his brother, Dick. They weren't political when they
began at the Purple Onion, but in less than a decade, they hosted the
most controversial variety show on TV, becoming the center of the
counterculture on commercial television in the process.

DICK GREGORY: A sophisticated, gimlet-eyed comic who focused on
politics, particularly the civil rights movement of the early '60s,
Dick Gregory approached the stage in the style of a standard stand-up
of the era ­ cigarette-smoking, sport coat-wearing funny man perched
on a stool, cracking wise. But the material was something few had
heard, and was the first black comic to break into the comedy mainstream.

CULTURE CLASH: A trio of comic actors, this group, which performed in
theaters rather than night clubs, emerged from San Francisco's
Mission District and the farm workers movement to present a Hispanic
point of view on political and historical commentary. Using many of
the same tools as the mime troupe, Culture Clash has developed into a
major theatrical force in the United States, playing many first-tier
theaters throughout the country.

.

SCLC renews King's campaign

Shining a light on poverty: SCLC renews King's campaign

http://www.southernstudies.org/2009/06/post-29.html

By Desiree Evans
June 25, 2009

In the daunting heat of Jackson, Miss. this past weekend, the
Southern Christian Leadership Conference relaunched a national
campaign to help the poor: a modern-day "Poor People's Campaign," an
initiative first envisioned by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in the 1960s.

The original campaign aimed to reduce poverty in some of the poorest
and hard-hit areas across the country. It was to include a march on
Washington in 1968, but King was killed in Memphis, Tenn. before that
could take place.

With the national recession deepening, SCLC members see this as a
prime moment to push the issue of solving poverty back into the
national discussion. Initially focused on several states in the South
including Mississippi, Alabama, Florida and Louisiana, the campaign
aims to highlight the persistent problem of poverty in the United
States and to break the silence around it.

As the federal government focuses on bailing out corporations,
interim SCLC President Rev. Byron Clay said that America's poor have
been left to fend for themselves. "The working families in this
nation are in deep trouble,'' Clay told the Associated Press.

The new Poor People's Campaign's first major event was a June 20
march and rally through Jackson, where about 1,000 civil rights
activists, faith leaders, and community members marched to the steps
of the state Capitol. Mississippi leads the nation in poverty and
that's why the campaign was being renewed in Jackson, Clay explained.
The SCLC wanted to marchers to learn first-hand about the
impoverished conditions in the state, which ranks last in the nation
on overall human development. Organizers said areas like the
Mississippi Delta need extra resources to help them recruit doctors
and teachers.

At the Jackson march, the SCLC called for increased funding for
health and social services, and announced plans to take the campaign
to Washington and challenge Congress to help the poor. "Poverty is a
national epidemic that must be addressed," Clay told the AP.

The SCLC is urging President Obama to establish a presidential
commission on poverty and is seeking congressional hearings to
explore ways to combat the poverty created by the millions of jobs
lost since the economy began sliding into recession in December 2007.
The SCLC also plans to hold a march and poverty hearings at their
national convention in Memphis in August.

.

A Great Feeling of Love’: Hilda and Che

A Great Feeling of Love: Hilda and Che

https://nacla.org/node/5908

Jun 19 2009
Hobart Spalding

The Cuban Revolution has probably been given more attention in the
U.S. mass media than any other revolution to date. This is due to its
longevity, its proximity to the world center of empire, the United
States, and not least to its many achievements. It also reflects the
colorful, dynamic personalities who have led the revolution, the
remarkable spirit and élan of the Cuban people, and, one must say it
too, the violent opposition of its detractors, who waste no
opportunity to attack the whole process. The revolution's 50th
anniversary and recent changes in Cuba have engendered an unusual
crop of materials about the island and its leaders. Works like
Ignacio Ramonet and Fidel Castro's collaboration, My Life: A Spoken
Autobiography (Scribner, 2008), and Steven Soderbergh's recent epic
Che are but two examples.

Hilda Gadea's My Life With Che, while actually a reprint of a 1978
release, falls within these parameters. It offers, however, a
slightly different perspective. Most works on the Cuban Revolution
concentrate on larger political issues, breakthrough moments, and
endless political debates, but this book strikes a more personal,
day-to-day note without ever neglecting the political. It reminds us
of the ties between the political and the personal, which are often
overlooked in writings about famous personages.

Gadea, who became Che Guevara's wife, narrates in the first person. A
Peruvian activist and economist, she chose exile in Guatemala after
the coup in her native country led by General Manuel Odria in 1948.
Guatemala was then the scene of a progressive revolution headed first
by Juan José Arevalo (1945) and after 1951 by Jacobo Arbenz. It had
become home to many exiles fleeing repressive regimes, and Hilda
became a fixture among that group. In this context Che walked into
her life, and the narrative about this fascinating relationship
begins. It becomes at once a tale of courtship and of two people
struggling to make the world a better place.

As in any good story, several subplots run through the text. At the
personal level the book details how their friendship and socializing
grew into something more over time. Hilda broke off the relationship
several times but always succumbed to Che's subsequent advances and
apologies. They married in September 1955 and had a daughter,
Hildita, in February.

A lot of space is given to Che's doting fatherhood (although he
wanted a boy), and several letters to his daughter from faraway
places are included in the text. He continued to visit frequently
after the couple divorced in 1959. The narrative also includes
descriptions of parties, food, and music, as well as accounts of
trips the couple took to ancient Mayan ruins around the country. The
photos included in the book help bring all this to life.

Life among the exile community, mostly in Guatemala but also Mexico,
constitutes another theme. The reader is struck by the deep level of
solidarity that the exiles felt and their willingness not only to
protect each other but to share when often they had very little
themselves. Clothes, a room, a job­all became currency within the community.

Almost as in a Dostoyevsky novel, the local, national, and
international police (including the FBI and CIA) are never far away
in this memoir, forcing sudden departures, missed connections, the
jettisoning of incriminating papers and books, and semi-clandestine
lives. Here one is struck by the number of times either or both Hilda
and Che ended up in the hands of the authorities, only to walk free,
sometimes because friends or diplomats intervened on their behalf,
sometimes through bribery. In fact, at one point, U.S. authorities
deported Che from Miami back to Argentina. If they had only known!

The couple read voraciously together, and heated discussions ensued.
Their choices included 19th-century Russian novelists as well as
Marxist standards like Capital or What Is to Be Done? Hilda also
introduced Che to the Chinese Revolution through Mao's writings, and
had events not intervened, the couple might have ended up going there
to see it for themselves. Both, although with some reservations,
expressed interest in the Soviet Revolution as a model. The young
Argentine liked Sartre, read John Reed, and even digested John
Maynard Keynes. The couple also shared many 19th- and 20th-century
Spanish classics. What emerges is a portrait of keen minds, eager to
learn, ready to discuss, and always searching for more.

The two vigorously debated what they read, not only with each other
but at the larger social gatherings that formed a regular part of
their lives. From these discussions there emerges a picture of how
Che's thinking evolved during these years. One central issue in these
debates centered on the role of the United States as an imperialist
power and the need to counteract that power. The couple often
discussed roads to change. Che, more than Hilda, remained convinced
that elections would never provide the answer and that armed
revolution by a small group, fully supported by the people, presented
the only clear path. They thus to one degree or another rejected the
left-leaning social democratic parties of the time (APRA in Peru, the
MNR in Bolivia, AD in Venezuela) as insufficiently anti-imperialist.
While both recognized the importance of working inside their own
countries (Hilda more than Che), they thought that aiding a truly
revolutionary movement in one Latin American country represented the
first advance toward continental liberation.

The U.S.-backed invasion of Guatemala in 1954 proved a milestone. The
couple sat in Guatemala City while the Arbenz government crumbled,
while refusing to arm the people or even take to the hills or jungles
in resistance. Che roundly criticized this as a grave mistake,
stoutly defending the necessity for any government to rely firmly on
the people.

Hilda had introduced Che to Cuban exiles in Guatemala soon after they
met. From them he got to know those in Mexico. Of course, he met both
Fidel and Raúl. They come across as fascinating young
revolutionaries. Although the pages on Che's relationship with the
Castro brothers are few, it becomes obvious why Fidel commanded the
respect, devotion, and undying loyalty of those around him. In the
tide of events, and after some soul searching, Che signed up to go on
the fateful expedition to Cuba in fall 1956. Here some anecdotal
material may be of interest. Fidel originally tried to get two or
three boats for the invasion. He only secured one: the Granma. Since
only so many of the group could go they had to decide who would stay.
In part the decision rested on an individual's body weight, since the
boat could carry only so many pounds.

The final chapters tell the story of Hilda and Hildita waiting for
news from Cuba. She returned to Peru in the meantime but did visit
Che's parents in Argentina. The couple corresponded as best they
could given the circumstances. Mother and daughter left for Cuba in
January 1959 to join Che. He told Hilda that he had met another
woman, and the couple agreed to divorce which they did later that
year. Hilda held several jobs in Cuba, including one at Prensa
Latina, the Cuban state news agency. The 1968 "progressive" military
coup in Peru offered her an opportunity to return to her country,
which she did, and she spent the rest of her life working actively
with left forces there. In 1972 she was in an automobile accident
while visiting Cuba, and during her treatment the doctors found a
cancer that proved fatal two years later. She was buried in the
Pantheon of the Revolutionary Armed Forces in Havana next to Hildita,
who had passed away prematurely, and alongside Che's father, who also
rests there.

This book is more than the story of a woman who became Che's
compañera or of Che's evolution during a key period. Hilda played a
very important role in his formation as a revolutionary, a vocation
he once famously said is "guided by a great feeling of love." Clearly
the two shared a life together, albeit for a short time, a life that
bordered on the ideal for a couple deeply engrossed in the movement.
While revolutions are led by people like Che who stand out, they are
founded in people like Hilda Gadea­tireless workers, faithful
compañeros and compañeras, and steadfast supporters of truth and justice.

.

1968 protesters denounce police reunion

[5 items]

1968 protesters denounce police reunion

http://www.chicagobreakingnews.com/2009/06/1968-anti-war-protestors-denounce-police-reunion.html

June 23, 2009
by Erika Slife

A protester who helped organize the anti-war demonstrations during
the 1968 Democratic National Convention spoke out Tuesday morning
against the planned reunion Friday for Chicago police officers who
were at the riots.

Don Rose, a former spokesman for the National Mobilization Committee
to End the War in Vietnam, condemned the reunion at a City Hall press
conference held by Chicago Copwatch, a community group that is
organizing a march to the Fraternal Order of Police hall -- where the
event is being held -- on the night of the reunion.

Rose took issue with the "provocative language" used by reunion
organizers, who are promoting the event on their Web site as a way to
honor and recognize the police "for their contributions to
maintaining law and order -- and for taking a stand against Anarchy."

"They seem to be seeking to rewrite history," Rose said. "These were
unprovoked assaults by the police."

Chicago Copwatch is planning to hold a rally at Union Park at Ashland
Avenue and Lake Street at 6 p.m. Friday before the march to the FOP
hall, 1412 W. Washington Blvd.

Also at the press conference were Fred Hampton Jr., son of slain
Black Panther leader Fred Hampton Sr. and head of the Prisoners of
Conscience Committee, and Patricia Hill, executive director for the
African American Police League and a co-convener of Black People
Against Police Torture.

Hill, a former Chicago police officer, said she was told by the
reunion organizers that she would not be allowed into the event
because it was a "private party."

"The names have changed but the game is the same," Hill said. "The
people will have to assert themselves again."

Organizers of the reunion could not be immediately reached for comment.

--------

Reunion set for 1968 convention cops

http://www.southtownstar.com/news/1628435,061809riotreunion_.article

June 18, 2009
BY KRISTEN SCHORSCH Staff writer

At 24 , what rookie Chicago Police officer Tom Flanagan witnessed in
August 1968 was far beyond his years.

Riots. Violence. Swarms of youth, men and women not much younger or
older than Flanagan, demonstrating on the streets of downtown Chicago
to protest the Democratic National Convention.

Working on the tactical unit, Flanagan, who grew up in Chicago's
Auburn Gresham community, helped chase sleeping demonstrators out of
Lincoln Park, then whistled and marched back to a bus with his fellow
officers to wait for their next command.

The next day he sat on the bus for about nine hours listening to
police radios, just waiting for the call.

"It was nerve-racking, to say the least," said Flanagan, 66, now a
retired officer who became a private investigator. "I always remember
how scared you get. We expected the bombs to come, but they never did."

The Chicago Democratic National Convention of 41 years ago when
hippies and yippies came to town to protest and urine rained down
from hotel rooms onto the heads of police guarding the event, has
become the stuff of legend - and history classes and books and pop
culture references galore.

Chicago became a fierce battleground, and what exactly happened
depends who you ask on either side of the thin blue line.

And for 41 years, police who worked the riots say they have been
misunderstood. One Chicago police officer wants to salute the Chicago
officers who he says fought to protect their city. That's why all the
riot police and then some are invited to the Chicago Riot Cops
Reunion June 26.

Got some old riot gear, log books or photos from the event? Bring
them. The more memorabilia, the better, organizer Mike Mattson says.

Just doing their jobs

Some 10,000 demonstrators from across the country descended on
Chicago in August 1968. That prompted Mayor Richard J. Daley to rally
police, hoping to preserve the peace and prevent disorder.

But what unfolded was chaos, people who were there recall.

Michael Kazin, a history professor at Georgetown University, was a
Harvard undergraduate and leader of the Students for a Democratic
Society student chapter at school when he came to Chicago to protest
the convention.

Lucky for Kazin, 61, he didn't get hurt, but he did get locked up in
Cook County jail for two days. Police arrested him for walking near
Lincoln Park, which earned him a few bologna sandwiches and some
Kool-Aid in jail.

"Obviously being arrested for walking on a public street was a little
too harsh," Kazin said.

Looking back, though, Kazin said police were bombarded with rumors
that protesters were going to poison the city's water supply or strip
and make love in the streets.

"A lot of people ... on the left spent too much time I think blaming
the police," Kazin said. "Policies we didn't like weren't made by the
police. They were made by the government. The police were just doing
their jobs."

Then again, some of the ones roughed up by police weren't violent and
didn't need to be harmed, Kazin said.

Flanagan heard the rumors too, including that Chicago could be bombed.

"We were the good guys"

Times were tense. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated four months
before the convention. Cities across the country were erupting in
violent riots.

When the police couldn't squash the battles during the convention,
the state National Guard came in. With barbed wire on the front of
their vehicles, guardsmen lined up next to each other and pushed the
sea of protesters back.

"Working the riots in the '60s was probably the most scary thing I
ever did but also was something that made me, I think, I don't know,
probably almost made me what I was for the rest of my life," Flanagan
said. "The closeness and everything that you got with these guys."

And no one every said thank you to the police, Flanagan said. That's
why Mattson planned the reunion.

"And we were actually the good guys, believe it or not," Flanagan said.
--

Kristen Schorsch can be reached at kschorsch@southtownstar.com or
(708) 633-5992. Kristen also blogs about crime and courts at
blogs.southtownstar.com.
--

If you go

What: Chicago Riot Cops Reunion
When: 7 p.m., June 26
Where: Chicago Fraternal Order of Police Lodge, 1412 W. Washington Blvd.
Cost: $30 a ticket
To buy a ticket: E-mailchicagoriotcop@yahoo.com
For more information: Visit chicagoriotcops.com

--------

Activists announce protest of 1968 police reunion

http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/wgntv-1968-police-reunion-protest-june23,0,912092.story?obref=obnetwork

Coalition of police watchdog groups plan to march against the reunion
of police involved in 1968 convention riots

Bill KIssinger | WGNTV NEWS
June 23, 2009

CHICAGO - Community activists are planning to march on the streets of
Chicago to protest a reunion of police officers involved in the 1968
Democratic National Convention riots.

A coalition of police watchdog groups and other organizations
announced plans for the protest at a City Hall news conference Tuesday.

The reunion will be held Friday at police union headquarters on the West Side.

Activists say police are celebrating violent oppression of the 1968
demonstrators. They also delivered a letter to Mayor Daley's office
demanding that he condemn the event.

Reunion organizers say the police were taking a stand against anarchy
during the convention. They say the reunion is a chance for officers
to share their stories.

--------

1968 Riot Cops Organize Reunion

http://cbs2chicago.com/local/1968.cops.reunion.2.1047842.html

Copwatch Group To Protest

Jun 17, 2009

Chicago Police officers who clashed with protesters during the 1968
Democratic National Convention are planning a reunion.

Members of the Fraternal Order of Police say the union will hold a
"Chicago Riot Cops Reunion" on June 26 to mark what until now hasn't
been considered one of the proud moments in Chicago Police Department history.

The union's Web site says the officers will be honored and recognized
for their contributions to maintaining law and order, and for taking
a "stand against anarchy."

"The Democratic National Convention was about to start and the only
thing that stood between Marxist street thugs and public order was a
thin blue line of dedicated, tough Chicago police officers," the Web
site said.

The union blames the "collective Left" for the historical impression
of the convention violence, which many sources characterize as a police riot.

"Chicago Police officers who participated in the riots continue to
endure unending criticism - all of which is unwarranted, inaccurate
and wrong," the Web site said.

The event will feature photos, displays, a guest speaker and food.
Former police Supt. Phil Cline will be a keynote speaker, and Chicago
Tribune columnist John Kass has also been invited.

Meanwhile, the watchdog group Chicago Copwatch is organizing a march
to the reunion site the same night of the police event, and is using
dramatic language to promote it.

"Officers who cracked heads at the Democratic Convention… will be
hobnobbing with today's police who are still occupying our
communities and phalanxing our rallies," the Chicago Copwatch
Facebook page said.

The group plans to rally at Union Park at Ashland Avenue and Lake
Street, and march to the FOP lodge with "effigies and dolls of riot
police." The group says they have filed a permit for the event.

At the start of the convention in August 1968, members of the
political activist group the Yippies and other protesters gathered in
Lincoln Park for what was billed a "Festival of Life" and a protest
against the Vietnam War.

Clashes with police began when officers tried to enforce a curfew in
Grant Park, and escalated in the days afterward.

On Wednesday night during the convention, video showed officers
beating protesters and bystanders outside the Chicago Hilton and
Towers. Some protesters threw objects and sprayed caustic substances
at officers. As the night went on, the situation worsened.

"Officers pushed people through a plate-glass window and then,
according to witnesses, attacked the dazed victims as they lay amid
broken glass," the Chicago Tribune reports. "A group of police
cheered a soldier as he bashed a demonstrator and attacked a
photographer who filmed the scene."

At the time of the clash between police and protesters, many
Chicagoans came out in favor of police actions. But during the
convention at the International Amphitheatre, U.S. Sen. Abraham
Ribicoff of Connecticut decried "Gestapo tactics" on the streets,
prompting an angry response from Mayor Richard J. Daley.

The incident led to charges of rioting and conspiracy to riot against
eight people, and the theatrical Chicago 7 trial.

--------

March Against Police Violence At the 1968 Riot Cops Reunion

http://chicagocopwatch.org/2009/06/march-against-police-violence-at-the-1968-riot-cops-reunion/

18 June 2009

Join Chicago Copwatch for a march against police brutality and in
celebration of murdered Black Panther Mark Clark's 62nd birthday.

Rally at Union Park ­ Ashland Ave & Lake St
June 26th 6pm
March to Fraternal Order of Police Lodge
1412 W. Washington Blvd

The Chicago lodge of the Fraternal Order of Police will be hosting a
1968 Riot Cop Reunion. Officers who cracked heads at the Democratic
Convention (and at the Division Street riots of 1966, and murdered
Black Panthers Fred Hampton and Mark Clark) will be hobnobbing with
today's police who are still occupying our communities and repressing
our rallies.

We're organizing hundreds of Chicagoans to rally and march, to speak
from personal experience about violence of the Chicago police in the
1960s, as well as their violence today. We will be marching to the
FOP lodge, and have filed for a permit to see if we can't make it a
bit safer for everyone attending (although we will rally and march,
permit or none).

Bring your friends, make effigies and dolls of riot police, and help
us let these cops who celebrate their sadistic violence know: We
can't forget, because we're still living it!
--

CONTACT US! (312) 402-7949, contact@chicagocopwatch.org, CHICAGO
COPWATCH, P.O. Box 81636, CHICAGO IL 60601

.

The Revolution Deferred [by Maulana Karenga]

The Revolution Deferred

http://blackstarnews.com/news/124/ARTICLE/5793/2009-06-22.html

By Maulana Karenga
June 22nd, 2009

[On Father's Day]

In the Sixties, we sat around tables talking about new times and the
new world we were struggling to bring into being.

We were men with a sacred and consuming mission­liberation and a
higher level of human life. We had expected beautiful new beginnings
and powerful ways to assert ourselves in the world.

As Black men in motion, speaking a clear and cleansing truth to power
and the people, and organizing and mobilizing our people for
liberation. We had imagined a revolution, not only in society but in
our own lives and in the way we understood and asserted ourselves in
the community, society and the world.

Our women were there struggling as much and as ever beside us,
although we know now we did not always give them the recognition and
respect they deserved. We had mostly imagined that we would change
all this after liberation. We had not fully realized we had to build
relations and engage in practices that prefigure and make possible
the good world we were struggling for.

It was a mistake that we would deeply regret and correct afterwards.
Still, in spite of this and other mistakes of various kinds, we
pushed forward, forging our identity and destiny in relentless
opposition to the established order.

But then something happened to us and our people.

The revolutionary struggle began to unravel; groups were dismantled
prematurely and began to disappear; families fragmented; police and
FBI suppression increased and proved to be disruptive, divisive and
deadly; and the stress of it all broke the brittle and drove the
frightened and less committed down various avenues of escape. And
many Black men went missing, AWOL, absent without leave from both the
battlefront and the homefront.

Steadily, many started leaving home and hangin' out with the homies,
droppin' out and dopin' up in dirty places, gangbanging, being locked
down and let out on a short leash called probation or parole,
bringing home a hidden history called down low, and trying to recover
and rebuild unraveled relations and a new life in the midst of thick
uncertainty and thin opportunity.

And then there were those who were left behind without fathers or
mentors and who made up their life
as they went along. Now they and many among us, fear growing up and
getting older,
and thus play the role of perpetual teenagers, revering rap
subculture as a mini-religion, and steadily learning and living the
loose and lumpen life and lyrics it encourages.

And so now, we are too often reduced to talking about lost lives,
dried-up dreams, ruined relations, fractured families, deadly
diseases running rampant, low or absent educational achievement,
unemployment, self-destructiveness, and underground predatory
practices that disrupt and damage the community and deal death every day.

Yet, somehow we must as Black men, stand up, step forward and with our women,
rebuild our lives, families and community, and continue the
liberation struggle so
many of us walked or were carried away from under various conditions.

To do this, we must first know and respect the meaning of manhood and
see it as a
self-conscious personal and social achievement and practice. This means moving
beyond the simple biological fact of maleness and increased age and
engaging in a
process of bringing ourselves into being in the most culturally and
morally grounded
ways.

This is the meaning of the teachings of the Odu Ifa (245:1) which
says "If we are given birth we must bring ourselves into being
again." It, then, is not enough to be male; we must make ourselves
into men, and having achieved the status, sustain
and constantly refine the idea and the practice. This is why the ancestors
established rites of passage (majando) for men as well as women, to begin at an
early age to teach us how to become and be African men and women in
the world. For
we are males by birth, but we must learn and struggle to be men,
especially African
men in a European-dominated context.

Regardless of what they and others say about us, we must define ourselves, name
ourselves, create for ourselves, speak for ourselves and carve out of
this hard rock
we call reality a place for us and our loved ones to stand in and
flourish. And we
cannot do this if we define ourselves as "n-'s", name ourselves dogs,
create only
harm and havoc, speak the vulgar and vicious language and lyrics of our own
degradation and instead of making new and life-enhancing places, mindlessly
participate in practices which destroy us, damage our people and delight our
oppressor.

Next, if we are to heal ourselves and repair the world, we must do it
in partnership
with our women. We must take our stand here on the awesome and
indispensable need of
quality relationships between man and woman whatever other
relationships we might
treasure or find attractive. Our partnership in life, love and struggle is as
necessary as sunlight, as indispensable as air, and as
life-sustaining as water.

It is also as stabilizing as earth, and as life-enhancing as love and
learning. Thus,
we must find a way back home to rebuild and reinforce the family, and
forge a new
relationship with this other half which makes us whole, a relationship of
complementarity defined by equality, mutual respect, and shared
responsibility in
life, love and struggle.

Finally, we must heal, repair and transform ourselves in the midst of
our ongoing
struggle to repair and transform the world. Our health and wholeness
depends on our
taking responsibility for our own lives and breaking the hold of an
oppressive, sick
society.

And it means living a life of service, sacrifice and struggle to build the
good world we all want and deserve. It is important here to note that
in spite of
the bleakness of the pictures painted, there still remains a majority
of Black men
who have weight and worth in the world. And even those who have
fallen have left
traces we can follow to find and raise them.

Thus, together we must free ourselves from all things and thoughts
which enslave and
oppress us. We must build brotherhood support groups like the Senu Brotherhood
Society, mentor young boys, stop the therapeutic chest-thumping about
how bad we be,
and begin the long and difficult struggle to build a good world and
be respected as
men among men, and men among women anywhere we are in the world.
--

Dr. Maulana Karenga, Professor of Africana Studies, California State
University-Long
Beach, Chair of The Organization Us, Creator of Kwanzaa, and author
of Kawaida and
Questions of Life and Struggle: African American, Pan-African and
Global Issues,

www.MaulanaKarenga.org www.Us-Organization.org and
www.OfficialKwanzaaWebsite.org

.

Agent Orange Continues to Poison Vietnam

Agent Orange Continues to Poison Vietnam

http://www.globalresearch.ca/index.php?context=va&aid=13974

by Prof. Marjorie Cohn
June 14, 2009
marjoriecohn.com

From 1961 to 1971, the U.S. military sprayed Vietnam with Agent
Orange, which contained large quantities of Dioxin, in order to
defoliate the trees for military objectives. Dioxin is one of the
most dangerous chemicals known to man. It has been recognized by the
World Health Organization as a carcinogen (causes cancer) and by the
American Academy of Medicine as a teratogen (causes birth defects).

Between 2.5 and 4.8 million people were exposed to Agent Orange. 1.4
billion hectares of land and forest - approximately 12 percent of the
land area of Vietnam - were sprayed.

The Vietnamese who were exposed to the chemical have suffered from
cancer, liver damage, pulmonary and heart diseases, defects to
reproductive capacity, and skin and nervous disorders. Children and
grandchildren of those exposed have severe physical deformities,
mental and physical disabilities, diseases, and shortened life spans.
The forests and jungles in large parts of southern Vietnam have been
devastated and denuded. They may never grow back and if they do, it
will take 50 to 200 years to regenerate. Animals that inhabited the
forests and jungles have become extinct, disrupting the communities
that depended on them. The rivers and underground water in some areas
have also been contaminated. Erosion and desertification will change
the environment, contributing to the warming of the planet and
dislocation of crop and animal life.

The U.S. government and the chemical companies knew that Agent
Orange, when produced rapidly at high temperatures, would contain
large quantities of Dioxin. Nevertheless, the chemical companies
continued to produce it in this manner. The U.S. government and the
chemical companies also knew that the Bionetics Study, commissioned
by the government in 1963, showed that even low levels of Dioxin
produced significant deformities in unborn offspring of laboratory
animals. But they suppressed that study and continued to spray
Vietnam with Agent Orange. It wasn't until the study was leaked in
1969 that the spraying of Agent Orange was discontinued.

U.S. soldiers who served in Vietnam have experienced similar
illnesses. After they sued the chemical companies, including Dow and
Monsanto, that manufactured and sold Agent Orange to the government,
the case settled out of court for $180 million which gave few
plaintiffs more than a few thousand dollars each. Later the U.S.
veterans won a legislative victory for compensation for exposure to
Agent Orange. They receive $1.52 billion per year in benefits.

But when the Vietnamese victims of Agent Orange sued the chemical
companies in federal court, U.S. District Judge Jack Weinstein
dismissed the lawsuit, concluding that Agent Orange did not
constitute a poison weapon prohibited by the Hague Convention of
1907. Weinstein had reportedly told the chemical companies when they
settled the U.S. veterans' suit that their liability was over and he
was making good on his promise. His dismissal was affirmed by the
Second Circuit Court of Appeals and the Supreme Court refused to hear
the case. The chemical companies admitted in their filing in the
Supreme Court that the harm alleged by the victims was foreseeable
although not intended. How can something that is foreseeable be unintended?

On May 15 and 16 of this year, the International Peoples' Tribunal of
Conscience in Support of the Vietnamese Victims of Agent Orange
convened in Paris and heard testimony from 27 victims, witnesses and
scientific experts. Seven people from three continents served as
judges of the Tribunal, which was sponsored by the International
Association of Democratic Lawyers (IADL).

Testimony given by the witnesses showed the following:

Mai Giang Vu, a member of the Army of South Vietnam, carried barrels
of the chemicals on his back. His two sons could not walk or
function normally, their limbs gradually "curled up" and they could
only crawl. They died at the ages of 23 and 25.

Pham The Minh, whose parents also served in the South Vietnamese
Army, showed the Tribunal his severely deformed, crooked, skinny
legs; he has great difficulty walking, as well as digestive and
pulmonary diseases.

To Nga Tran is a French Vietnamese who worked as a journalist during
the spraying. Her daughter weighed 6.6 pounds at the age of three
months. Her skin began shredding and she could not bear to have skin
contact or simple demonstrations of love. She died at 17 months,
weighing 6.6 pounds. Ms. To described a woman who gave birth to a
"ball" with no human form. Many children are born without brains;
others make inhuman sounds.

Rosemarie Hohn Mizo is the widow of George Mizo, who served in the
U.S. Army in Vietnam in 1967. He slept on contaminated ground and
consumed food and drink that were also contaminated. George refused
to serve after he was wounded for the third time; he was
court-martialed and sentenced to 2-1/2 years in prison and a
dishonorable discharge. George helped found the Friendship Village
where Vietnamese victims live in a supportive environment. He died
from conditions related to his exposure to Agent Orange.

Georges Doussin, co-founder of the Friendship Village , visited a
dormitory where he saw 50 highly deformed "monsters," who produced
inhuman sounds. One man whose parent had been exposed to Agent Orange
had four toes on each foot. Doussin said Agent Orange creates "total
anarchy in evolution."

Dr. Nguyen Thi Ngoc Phuong, from Tu Du Hospital in Ho Chi Minh City (
Saigon ), sees many children born without arms and/or legs, without
heads or faces, and without a brain chamber. According to the World
Health Organization, only 1 ­ 4 parts per trillion (PPT) of Dioxin in
breast milk can cause severe deformities in fetuses and even death.
But up to 1450 PPT are found in maternal milk in Vietnam .

Dr. Jeanne Stellman, who wrote the seminal article about Agent Orange
in the magazine Nature, testified that "this is the largest unstudied
environmental disaster in the world (except for natural disasters)."

Dr. Jean Grassman, from Brooklyn College at City University of New
York, testified that Dioxin is a potent cellular disregulator which
alters a variety of pathways to disrupt many systems. Children, she
said, are very sensitive to Dioxin; the intrauterine or post natal
exposure to Dioxin may result in altered immune, neurobehavioral, and
hormonal functioning. Women pass their exposure to their children
both in utero and through the excretion of Dioxin in breast milk.

Many ecosystems have been destroyed and Dioxin continues to poison
Vietnam , especially in the several "hot spots."

Chemist Dr. Pierre Vermeulin testified that it was estimated that $1
billion would be required to restore one hectare of land in Vietnam .
The cost of caring for the victims, many of whom need 24-hour care,
is enormous.

In 1973, President Richard Nixon promised $3.25 billion in
reconstruction aid to Vietnam "without any preconditions." That aid
was never granted.

There are only 11 Friendship Villages in Vietnam ; 1000 are needed to
care for the child victims of Agent Orange.

Last week, the Bureau of the IADL, meeting in Hanoi , presented
President Nguyen Minh Triet of the Socialist Republic of Vietnam with
the final decision of the Tribunal. The judges found the U.S.
government and the chemical companies guilty of war crimes, crimes
against humanity, and ecocide during the illegal U.S. war of
aggression in Vietnam . We recommended that the Agent Orange
Commission be established in Vietnam to assess the damages suffered
by the people and destruction of the environment, and that the U.S.
government and the chemical companies provide compensation for the
damage and destruction.

I told the President that it always struck me that even as U.S. bombs
were dropping on the people of Vietnam , they always distinguished
between the American government and the American people. The
President responded, "We fought the forces of aggression but we
always reserved our love for the people of America . . . because we
knew they always supported us."

An estimated 3 million Vietnamese people were killed in the war,
which also claimed 58,000 American lives. For many other Vietnamese
and U.S. veterans and their families, the war continues to take its toll.

Several treaties the United States has ratified require an effective
remedy for violations of human rights. It is time to make good on
Nixon's promise and remedy the terrible wrong the U.S. government
perpetrated on the people of Vietnam . Congress must pass legislation
to compensate the Vietnamese victims of Agent Orange as it did for
the U.S. Vietnam veteran victims.

Our government must know that it cannot continue to use weapons that
target and harm civilians. Indeed, the U.S. military is using
depleted uranium in Iraq and Afghanistan , which will poison those
countries for incalculable decades.
--

Marjorie Cohn, a professor at Thomas Jefferson School of Law and
president of the National Lawyers Guild, served as a judge on the
International Peoples' Tribunal of Conscience in Support of the
Vietnamese Victims of Agent Orange. She is a member of the Bureau of
the International Association of Democratic Lawyers, and co-author
of "Rules of Disengagement: The Politics and Honor of Military Dissent."

.

Friday, June 26, 2009

Yippie founder Paul Krassner still testing limits

Yippie founder Paul Krassner still testing limits

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/n/a/2009/06/22/entertainment/e141643D75.DTL

By JOHN ROGERS, Associated Press Writer
Monday, June 22, 2009

DESERT HOT SPRINGS, Calif. (AP) -- He was once a child music prodigy
and in the decades since, Paul Krassner has been everything from
political satirist to author, editor, anarchist and an advocate for
both peace and pornography.

But the title he may favor is one he found buried in his FBI file.

"To classify Krassner as a social rebel is far too cute," a letter in
the file said in response to a favorable magazine interview with the
co-founder of the Yippie Party, the group that notoriously disrupted
the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago. "He's a nut, a
raving, unconfined nut."

So Krassner titled his autobiography "Confessions of a Raving, Unconfined Nut."

"I figured I might as well make use of it," says the author, smiling
broadly as he sits in the living room of his modest tract home in
this sandy, sagebrush-dotted corner of the Mojave Desert on a
scorchingly hot morning. On a nearby table is a copy of "A People's
History of the United States of America" by historian and social
activist Howard Zinn.

For someone who has lived figuratively on the edge of society for
most of his life, Krassner appears to have made the move literally as
well, having left Los Angeles' epicenter of counterculture, Venice
Beach, several years ago to take up residence in a place where the
temperature sometimes hits 120 degrees, accompanied by blast-furnace
winds of 70 mph or more.

But the co-founder of the group that once ran a pig for president and
tried to disrupt the seat of capitalism by throwing dollar bills onto
the trading floor of the New York Stock Exchange, says he has come to
love his quiet little piece of Americana with its backyard views of
the snowcapped mountains towering over Palm Springs in the distance.

Krassner, who made his debut at Carnegie Hall as a violinist at age 7
(and then almost immediately gave up music because he couldn't get
along with his teacher) is 77 now. That's a number he confirms with
both a sheepish grin and a faux apology: "I'm sorry, I don't know how
that happened."

But if the years are gaining on him, the exuberant,
still-youthful-looking rebel never lets on.

Still an unabashed political radical, as well as a prolific writer,
Krassner is the author of more than a dozen books. The most recent,
"Who's to Say What's Obscene: Politics, Culture and Comedy in America
Today," comes out in July.

It takes a skewering look at American politics and morals, speaking
generally in favor of such subjects as pornography and recreational
drug use and dismissing the torture of prisoners of war as something
that is truly obscene. But it goes about it in such a lighthearted
fashion as to rarely seem preachy.

"The word that comes to mind when I think of him is integrity," says
Robert Scheer, former syndicated columnist and founding editor of the
online magazine Truthdig.com. "The guy anguishes over what is right
and wrong more than the editors of the most respectable publications.
... He doesn't get it right all the time, but he always thinks it out."

It was Krassner, Scheer says, who gave him his big break as an
investigative reporter, providing the money to travel to Vietnam in
1963 to report on covert U.S. involvement in that country's civil war
before the United States had become inextricably involved in it.
Scheer's story, first published in Krassner's small, groundbreaking
satirical magazine, The Realist, was picked up by the mainstream
media and gained national attention.

The publisher had raised the money for Scheer's Vietnam trip by
selling red, white and blue posters with the word Communism, preceded
by another, much more impolite word. The posters quickly became a hit
on college dorm room walls.

"It really confused all these conservative types," Scheer recalled
with a laugh. "They hated communism" but they also hated seeing it
described with a barnyard epithet for sexual intercourse.

That is just one of a seemingly endless chain of stories of practical
jokes and other stunts attached to Krassner's name, some of them
true, others apocryphal.

One of the latter, says Krassner, is that he came up with the acronym
for the Youth International Party by throwing his head back in a
moment of psychedelic-inspired bliss and shouting "Yippie!"

"As a journalist, I knew that we had to have a who for the who, what,
where, when and why that would symbolize the radicalization of
hippies for the media," he says with a mischievous smirk. "So I
started going through the alphabet: Bippie, Dippie, Ippie, Sippie. I
was about to give up when I came to Yippie."

The movement he helped launch is not remembered fondly by everyone.
David Horowitz, the former 1960s radical turned conservative
commentator, said that although he likes Krassner personally he
believes he and other Yippies must shoulder much of the blame for
crises such as AIDS and drug addiction.

"It was one long incitement against America, against all the
guidelines, the morals and mores that helped people make it through
life," he said of the Yippie movement. "I think Yippies in the end
were a terribly destructive force."

Although many of his contemporaries have died or retired, Krassner
remains busier than ever. He contributes regularly to the popular
blog Huffington Post, and writes columns for the pro-marijuana
publication High Times and the online magazine Adult Video News.

A spirited conversationalist and a fierce student of politics and pop
culture, he jumps continuously from one subject to the next when he
talks, frequently going off on tangents as one interesting idea pops
into his head after another.

He does it so often that when he's on a standup comedy tour, as he
will be this summer, he'll sometimes appoint a member of the audience
to act as his "tangent spotter" and tell him to get back on message
and deliver the punch line.

"He doesn't waste time," says his longtime friend Wavy Gravy, the
political activist and advocate for charitable causes who usually
appears in public dressed as a circus clown. "People who waste time
get buried in it. He keeps doing one thing after another."

Married for 21 years and the father of a grown daughter, Krassner is
busy writing another book, this one a novel about a comedian who
invites censorship but never gets arrested. It was inspired by an old
friend, the groundbreaking Lenny Bruce, whose autobiography, "How to
Talk Dirty and Influence People," Krassner edited.

At one point, says Krassner, he got so into the project that he began
"channeling Lenny," hearing his voice directing him from the grave.

"Until one time he said to me, 'Come on, you don't even believe
that,'" he says, punctuating the statement with an expletive and a
loud, raucous laugh.

.

A Look Back at the Lows and Highs of 1969

A Look Back at the Lows and Highs of 1969

http://www.pastemagazine.com/articles/2009/06/a-look-back-at-the-lows-and-highs-of-1969.html

By Lee Zimmerman
June 17, 2009

It was, to borrow from an immortal piece of literature, both the best
of times and the worst of times. Like the decade it capped, 1969 was
a year of great highs­Woodstock, the first man on the moon,
Led Zeppelin. The Stooges, Tommy, Abbey Road, Easy Rider. But it was
also a year of shattered myths, disillusion and
disappointment­Vietnam, Altamont, Brian Jones.

Of course, none of this was surprising. The '60s had been a
tumultuous time to begin with, one that saw a seismic shift in both
culture and consciousness. From the Beatles to the Kennedys, from the
cold war to heated conflicts, integration to exploitation, it was by
far, the most monumental period in modern history. How, then, would
its final 12 months have been any different?

They wouldn't, and indeed, 1969 proved to be both the end of a fabled
decade and the entry into another era altogether. Not as revered a
year as 1967, when Sgt. Pepper, Monterey and the Haight marked
milestones of illumination and enlightenment, 1969 was not only
summed up progress to this point, but also glimpsed ahead up a trail
that had already forked off into completely disparate directions.
Woodstock, CSNY and Abbey Road represented the last gasp of the
hippie dream, a myth that had already been shattered in the
drug-addled embers of the Summer of Love two years before. It was a
year where past and present gave way to the future, negating any
clear cut divide. The Beatles' slow meltdown accelerated through the
travesty that became Let It Be, Altamont turned into a rude awakening
to the realities of mob rule, and the steady toll of '60s casualties,
precipitated by Brian Jones' drowning in his own swimming pool, was
ready to begin. The Manson's family's grisly murders of Sharon Tate
and other members of the Hollywood elite in the hills above Los
Angeles on the night of Aug. 9 showed how those sunny spires of the
'60s, the Beatles and the Beach Boys, were now being mutated into
grotesque symbols of perversion and rage.

Peace and violence were forever at odds. On June 18, members of New
York's homosexual community staked their claim for civil rights, only
to be brutalized in the bloody Stonewall Riots.
John Lennon and Yoko Ono staged their much-ridiculed Bed-Ins for
peace in Amsterdam and Toronto while protesters rallied by the
hundreds of thousands in the streets of the world's capitols to urge
an end to the Vietnam War. Finding himself under siege, President
Richard Nixon desperately appealed to the so-called Silent Majority
to support his stands. The trial of the so-called Chicago Eight,
charged with instigating unrest at the Democratic Convention the year
before, commenced in September, leaving the real criminals­Mayor
Dailey, the cops and their political cronies­unscathed. To add insult
to literal injury, the draft was reinstated in December. Meanwhile,
overseas, heroes and villains­Golda Meir, Moammar Qaddafil, Yasser
Arafat among them­ascended to history's hierarchy.

There may have been no clearer example of this now unstoppable
passage from idealism to extremism than through the trajectory
dramatized in the film Easy Rider. Loosely based on the personalities
of Byrds protagonists Roger McGuinn and David Crosby, it followed the
journey of two disillusioned bikers who use the proceeds of a drug
deal to indulge their hedonistic fantasies one final time before
retreating into retirement. Ultimately the dream turns ugly, and then
is terminated entirely when the pair is plowed down by
shotgun-wielding rednecks.

It was a graphic illustration of the slow change that had now begun
to accelerate '60s broached the '70s. The ever-controversial and
defiant Smothers Brothers were canceled by CBS after refusing to
submit an episode to the network for review, only to be replaced a
week later by the innocuously idiotic Hee Haw. Silliness of different
sorts was forged when Monty Python made its bow on the BBC and Sesame
Street launched America's original incarnation of public television.
The Saturday Evening Post gave way to Penthouse. The most unlikely
underdogs also triumphed; Nixon was inaugurated in January, John
Wayne finally won an Oscar and the much-derided Mets clinched the World Series.

Meanwhile, in music, the old guard made a final encore. On Jan. 30,
the Beatles made their final public appearance on the roof of their
Apple offices, only to have their concert cut short by disapproving
police. Elvis Presley, buoyed by a TV comeback special the year
before, scored two of his biggest hits, "Suspicious Minds" and "In
The Ghetto," after being absent from the charts most of the decade.

Bob Dylan, the patron saint of new ideals and imagination, made his
much-anticipated first public appearance at Britain's Isle of Wight
festival following a motorcycle mishap three years earlier. Garbed in
white and with his hair shorn short, he affirmed his God-like mantra
even while turning his back on his role as the bohemian pied piper
with the messianic following. Likewise, both the Airplane and the
Dead, iconoclastic symbols of indulgence and experimentation, were
now veering into different terrain, the former via the vehement
rebellion of Volunteers, the latter with the heartland harmonies of
Workingman's Dead.

The Stones mined their menace with Let It Bleed, The Who perfected
the rock opera conceit with Tommy and The Band established the
template for Americana with Music From Big Pink. Still, the biggest
debut of the year was struck with Led Zeppelin's eponymous offering,
a prelude to the uncompromising edge of a heavy metal future.
Suddenly it seemed that the Age of Aquarius had become an era of
angst and aggression, and the idyllic '60s had now taken their final,
frenetic bow.

.

Roky Erickson set to return to Houston after 25 years

Roky Erickson set to return to Houston after 25 years

http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/ent/6488054.html

By ANDREW DANSBY Copyright 2009 Houston Chronicle
June 19, 2009

Among significant musicians who have endured monumental breakdowns
and/or mental illness, few are more sweet and charming in
conversation than Roky Erickson. The Austin-based psychedelic rock
legend has had as bumpy a ride as any. He's been drugged
(voluntarily), arrested, incarcerated, institutionalized, shocked,
drugged (involuntarily) and abandoned over a duration of time (more
than two decades) that should've left him dead. But on the other end
of a phone these days he's unfailingly courteous.

Talking to some of rock's eccentrics and near casualties is usually
an exercise in futility. Brian Wilson was friendly enough the first
and only time I spoke to him, though his shouty voice and naturally
clipped answers gave a gruff impression beyond his control. "Thank
you," he shouted before hanging up. "That was a good interview." (It
wasn't.) Waller native Daniel Johnston was once a chatterbox during
an interview; another time he stared at a kitchen table and smoked
cigarettes shaking like an old washing machine.

Interviewing such artists can sometimes feel like a self-serving
pursuit. The purpose is the same as talking to non-eccentrics: an
attempt to glean some sort of interesting information about their art
from which to spin a minor profile. With Erickson, for instance, I
learned last week that Little Willie John was a influence on his
landmark 13th Floor Elevators song You're Gonna Miss Me. (In a
previous chat, James Brown had been mentioned.)

"I just heard one song of his on the radio," Erickson said. "'Better
leave my kittie alone.' We had this one real, tiny radio, and I heard
Little Willie John sing that. Then I think I heard James Brown's
Night Train. I listened to mostly rock 'n' roll … though I liked the
blues a lot."

Certain this personal revelation was hardly a national one, I opted
not to Google Erickson and Little Willie. But as one prone to
obsessing about music I thought it was plenty logical.

Erickson's life and times following Miss Me were equally foggy,
though they've been well documented since. The Elevators were
short-lived. He spent years in the Rusk State Hospital to avoid jail
time for marijuana possession, and came out damaged. He recorded
sporadically through the '70s, '80s and '90s, some of it listenable,
much of it not. Broke and on the skids, he was rescued in the '90s by
a younger brother, who fixed his teeth and his finances and his
living situation, and facilitated a remarkable comeback. These days
Erickson is giving full performances (last year's Austin City Limits
Music Festival appearance was joyous and rocking). He's also recorded
with Austin's Okkervil River, though there are no release details yet.

Erickson's recall is sometimes keen, other times not so much. Many of
his answers begin with a "let me see …" or "let me think …" Some
details from 1966 are clear as a bell, others from years later are
not. The Elevators were signed to the Houston-based International
Artists label, which purchased Miss Me from the Contact label. He
recalls the touchstone names in the region (Huey Meaux, Gold Star
studio), but stops short of elaboration. Erickson also doesn't recall
the last time he played Houston, though his manager informs me that
it was Aug. 11, 1984, at the Consolidated Arts Warehouse. So nearly a
quarter century will have passed when he takes the stage at the
Continental Club on Wednesday.

If Erickson's ACL appearance is any indication, he'll run through
Miss Me along with other favorites like Creature With the Atom Brain
and Two-Headed Dog.

Much psychedelic rock hasn't aged very well over the years. It's
shackled to its era and infused with an earnest pursuit of hippie
idealism less widely lovable than, say, jive swing, another bygone
genre that fused an antiquated style to its substance.

But Miss Me has proven monumentally resilient, an urgently iconic
nugget from 1966 that doesn't attempt to lure you with slurry guitars
and chanting about kaleidoscopic kittens. The soul and blues that
Erickson cites infused the song with an urgency not found in the
psych rock rooted in the folky jug-band tradition. That rawness gave
Miss Me legs beyond some other music of its era.

Its opening guitar riff is a strangler, a war cry for 40-plus years
of garage rock. And even something as blatantly hippie-esque as
playing a jug is defiantly manipulated as to suggest some sort of
wild-eyed mutation of something innocent. In the pointless music
journalistic pursuit of the punk rock genesis (Iggy! Velvet
Underground! New York Dolls! Elvis! Hank Williams!), the Elevators
warrant mention if for nothing other than Erickson's banshee singing,
the result, at least in part, of his mother's affinity for opera.

Musician Shandon Sahm, son of late Texas music legend Doug (a friend,
admirer and collaborator with Erickson), says the production reminded
him of Sahm's landmark She's About a Mover. "The jug is cool, the
screaming rocks," he says. "It's hard to pin down exactly what makes
it awesome, but as Doug used to say about Mover can apply to Miss Me,
it just flat out had a groove to it."

Erickson's description of writing the song is somewhat cryptic.

"I was just at my house, and I thought I might write a song," he
says. "Then I found myself at this very strange place, some kind of a
poetry place or something. All it had was one room and bar. And that was it."

Erickson says he spends his days "reading a lot," watching beloved
horror movies that seem to inspire his music (see song titles in
previous paragraph), and plinking on a pump organ in his home ("It's
missing a key") and a new Yamaha keyboard, which has pre-programmed
songs that he tweaks, other times he works up original compositions,
which he figures number in the hundreds.

In the late-'90s Erickson was well-represented in record store bins,
though the rash of new releases all featured old material that had
been dredged up. But with the tantalizing tease of new music (his
first in more than a decade) and his urgently loud performances,
Erickson, like Wilson and Johnston, is enjoying a fruitful second act
that is creatively satisfying rather than a sentimental journey.
--

andrew.dansby@chron.com

.

Age of Aquarius returns at outdoor music festival

Age of Aquarius returns at outdoor music festival

http://www.wausaudailyherald.com/article/20090621/CWS04/906210321/1619

June 21, 2009

Maybe this is the summer to relive your youth, or pretend to be your parents.

Janis Joplin and Jerry Garcia are long gone, but that won't stop the
revival of their music by tribute bands soon to gather at a rural
Illinois airport.

The eight-band concert on Aug. 14 and 15 will acknowledge the 40th
anniversary of Woodstock, the rainy and raucous rock music gathering
of 500,000 people at a farm in upstate New York. This version takes
place near Woodstock, Ill., which has only a name in common with the
legendary 1969 event.

Performers -- from Utah to Florida -- specialize in the music of Jimi
Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Joe Cocker, The Who, Creedence Clearwater
Revival, The Grateful Dead, Santana and Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young.

For tickets ($20 for one day, $30 for both) to the event at Galt
Airport, 5112 Greenwood Road, consult www.galtfestivals.com. Music
begins at 7 p.m. Aug. 14 and 3 p.m. Aug. 15.

Limited RV and tent camping are available by reservation. The family
friendly show goes on, rain or shine, during the same weekend as the
original Woodstock.

The Illinois Woodstock, population 25,000, is 20 miles south of Lake
Geneva. Woodstock's quaint and tidy downtown, an easy walk from a
Chicago Metra train stop (Union Pacific Northwest Line), is known for
"Groundhog Day" filming in 1992, and a walking tour of movie
locations is available.

For more information, go to www.visitmchenrycounty.com or call 888-363-6177.

.

Julius Lester's photos offer 'ways of seeing'

Julius Lester's photos offer 'ways of seeing'

http://www.amherstbulletin.com/story/id/149107/

By Phoebe Mitchell
Staff Writer
Published on June 19, 2009

Every photograph is a choice made by the photographer's eye as well
as the stories the photographer carries inside.

Julius Lester's observation on photography is part of an artist
statement that accompanies the current exhibit of his work, "Ways of
Seeing: Photographs and Photographic Art, 1965-2009," on view at the
Robert Floyd Photo Gallery in Southampton through June 30.

Composer, author, longtime University of Massachusetts professor and
onetime folk musician, the 70-year-old Lester has more than a few
tales to draw from to fuel his longtime passion for photography.

Again, he writes: "I suspect that we all have ways of seeing' because
each of us carries many stories within us. Through our stories we see
ourselves, others and the world around us. These images are merely
some of the ways in which I see."

The retrospective exhibit includes 19 of Lester's photographs, both
black-and-white and color, from 1965 to the present. The photographs,
selected from about 50 of Lester's images, cover a broad range of
categories, said gallery owner Robert Floyd, including nature,
architecture, the South and mortality.

"I have never in my professional life seen any photographer with such
a successfully wide representation as Julius Lester," said Floyd. "I
was absolutely blown away [by his work]."

Seeing is believing

Talking in a phone interview from his Belchertown home earlier this
week, Lester said his longtime interest in photography is driven, in
large part, by a desire "to learn to see."

"[Depression-era photographer] Dorothea Lange once said that
photography existed to teach people how to see, to show something in
photography that people might not see with the naked eye," said
Lester. "Photography selects out of everything around you and
magnifies it so you see it in a new way."

Lester uses as an example his photograph of a shock of grass, its
brown color a memento mori, of sorts, a prelude to the coming winter
and life's end.

He writes: "Whatever I photograph - objects, people, or creatures - I
am not only photographing what I see, I am photographing my
relationship with what I see. In a sense, then, I am photographing myself."

One of the exhibit's black-and-white images is of a middle-aged
homeless man who looks into the camera lens, smiling. His face is
weathered and work-hardened, but the laugh wrinkles at the corners of
his eyes suggest that he has faced life with good humor and optimism.

His expression encapsulates Lester's own energetic, forward-looking
attitude: On the eve of his retirement in 2003, he said he couldn't
wait to have more time to pursue other interests - photography, in
particular - which had to be put on hold while he was at UMass in
Amherst. He taught Judaic and Near Eastern studies, English and
history there for 32 years.

Since leaving teaching, Lester says he has been working on his
photography, studying French and reading "just for pleasure" - books
by mystery writer Henning Mankell are among his favorites.

A new world

Lester's retirement followed a very busy and noteworthy career which
included writing some 45 books - "I've lost count," he said -
including "To Be a Slave," a collection of slavery narratives. That
book won the Newbury Honor Medal in 1969, one of numerous book awards
he's earned over the years.

In the 1960s, while working for the Student Nonviolent Coordinating
Committee (SNCC), one of the era's principal civil rights
organizations, Lester photographed civil rights workers in New York
City and the South. A folksinger himself at the time, his photographs
of other musicians were published in the songbook "Folk Blues" by
Jerry Silverman.

Later that decade, he spent a month working as a photographer for
SNCC in Vietnam, as well as two weeks in Cuba, where he joined SNCC
leader Stokely Carmichael and Fidel Castro, on a three-day visit to
mountain villages.

"It was quite an adventure," he said.

As the exhibit illustrates, Lester's pictures reflect the themes that
have threaded their way through his life. As an example, Lester
talked about a photograph of a snake he took soon after it had died.

"I have a series about dead animals," he said, that reflects his
lifelong fascination with death. "There was a lot of death around me
as a child."

Another of the exhibit's photographs shows a woman, nude from the
waist up, holding a skull. The image presents a striking contrast
between the life-giving force of the woman's breast and the skull,
the remnants of someone who has died.

"I've lived with the skull for 40 years and it has been my teacher,"
said Lester.

In recent years, Lester says, he has kept things simple and quiet,
focusing his attention on nature, which for him embodies the
ceaseless cycle of life and death.

"My wife and I live in Belchertown and we have 12 acres. I live much
more in the rhythm of the seasons than I ever had before," said
Lester. "There's an unrelenting quality about nature. Cut down a tree
and it sprouts leaves."
--

The exhibit is on view through June 30; Lester will talk about his
work June 28, at 3 p.m. The gallery is located at 2 East St. in
Southampton. Hours are Tuesdays, Saturdays and Sundays, 1 to 6 p.m.
For information, call 529-2635 and or visit www.robertfloydphoto.com.

.

Music, mud and mayhem

[2 articles]

Woodstock footage carefully restored

http://www.thepeterboroughexaminer.com/ArticleDisplay.aspx?e=1618450

Posted By BRUCE KIRKLAND, SUN MEDIA
6/18/09

The restoration of 40-year-old film footage is an extremely delicate
matter, especially when the Woodstock Music and Art Fair is involved.
Like the near-tornados that turned

Max Yasgur's dairy farm into a quagmire in 1969, a storm is brewing
today about the new Woodstock DVDs. Purist fans object to changes in
picture and sound.

But it should be all peace and love, brother. The changes are subtle,
necessary and rare, according to restoration expert Kurt Galvao and
sound engineer Eddie Kramer, famed for his Jimi Hendrix albums.

Galvao produced Untold Stories, the remarkable collection of 148
minutes of extra concert footage featured on both the new DVD and
Blu-ray sets,Woodstock: 40th Anniversary Ultimate Collector's
Edition.They greatly enhance the effect of re-visiting the film
itself, offered here in the 224-minute director's cut of 1994. That
cut allowed director Michael Wadleigh to restore footage Warner Bros.
forced him to cut before the film was released in 1970.

Kramer, meanwhile, was in charge of recording songs at Woodstock and
he mixed the restoration of the film and masterminded the music in
Untold Stories.

Galvao tells Sun Media that their focus was simple: "Keeping the
integrity of the picture and put out a quality product."

On the picture side, the controversy is digital noise reduction. Some
restorations are so extreme that images, stripped of dirt and other
imperfections, look too perfect, too fake.

"Sometimes you get too clean, where you start losing grain, so it
doesn't look like it was meant to be back there," says Galvao. "So
you actually add grain back in." Faded colour is another problem. "We
had to pump colour back in, as much colour as we could without making
it look cartoonish. It was a balance, it was a dance, so it all plays."

Kramer says of the music restoration: "That's exactly the same
process that we would go through."

He captured seven tracks of audio at Woodstock while holed up in his
production truck, where he also slept. The eighth track was reserved
for synching with film footage.

Some songs had no bass lines recorded. "I managed to find the bass
line looking at every single channel and finding that each channel
had a little bit of leakage of the bass," Kramer says.

"I had to find ways to combine some of those leakages to make a bass
track that didn't exist (on its own)."

He calls that "an archeological dig" in a sound studio.

"The imperial mission" was to maintain integrity of the original
music, he says. "We never wanted to take away from it. It is classic
material. It is an historical piece. We never wanted to make it
something other than what it really was. Even with all the cleaning,
even with all the mixing, we never tried to make it look and sound
like it wasn't. I could have 'fixed' every drum beat but that would
be counter-intuitive and it would be phony."

With a rare exception. With Santana's Evil Ways, the original track
was unusable because Carlos Santana's guitar was horribly out of tune
for half the song.

Kramer re-recorded Santana, on his original guitar and with the
original amp. That was layered in the track for Untold Stories.

"You make the decision: How do you save this? Well, you get Carlos
and you save a track that would never have seen the light of day.

" I think it is legitimate to go in and fix something with the
original artists, when you have them."

But "very little" of that fixing was done, Galvao and Kramer both
say. Woodstock is still pure.

----------

Music, mud and mayhem

http://www.thenorthernecho.co.uk/leisure/4451290.Music__mud_and_mayhem/

22nd June 2009

Film-maker Michael Wadleigh talks to Steve Pratt about his
experiences 40 years after he recorded the Woodstock festival FORTY
years ago this summer, a music festival held on a dairy farm in a
tiny rural community exploded into one of the defining moments of the
''flower power'' generation.

The three-day concert in Bethel, New York State, was expected to
attract around 50,000 people, but almost half a million were there to
see some of the key acts of the Sixties.

Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and The Who were among more than 30
artists who performed at the Woodstock Festival, named after the
nearby village which had become a magnet for musicians of the hippy era.

Billed as ''three days of peace and music'', Woodstock played out
against a backdrop of the Vietnam war. It hit newspaper headlines
around the world and captured the mood of the post-war generation,
who longed to break free from the past.

Michael Wadleigh was only 26 when he filmed the festival's music, mud
and mayhem. His movie, which won an Oscar for best documentary in
1970, has been remastered and rereleased on DVD with hours of extra
performances to mark the 40th anniversary of Woodstock.

Now 66, American-born director Wadleigh is a grandfather and lives on
a farm in Wales. His film of Woodstock happened during a year he took
off from medical school to make films about topical issues.

His first film was on the American communist party, which was founded
in 1911 in Woodstock, New York, a village about 100 miles from New
York City. "Bob Dylan, Joan Baez and many, many people had moved up
there, because it was a beautiful village and kind of a summer
retreat for radicals," he recalls.

''The producers of the Woodstock concert had also been drawn to
Woodstock. They expected maybe 50,000 people and they were off by one
zero. Ten times as many people came.

''The idea caught fire with America.

As the kids say in the movie, it wasn't really the music, it was a
whole combination of things. It was people trying to find their
identity, what the Woodstock generation called the 'counter-culture'
and that was the gathering point.

"It was largely young, white people, who wanted to be leaders and to
find a new direction for America and the world.'' He feels Woodstock
and the film have endured because Sixties music is unequalled.
''You're looking at phenomenally interesting music that has stood the
test of time and, in my opinion, the reason is that in the Sixties,
the musicians were competing to be original.

"Everybody wants to be famous, but the idea then was to create an
unusual sound and have other musicians envy you because you had
musically or lyrically done something unique.

"Today if it's a hit, then 18 people will try to imitate it and earn
more money than you did. Money becomes the standard, not originality."

Film-makers shot hundreds of hours of footage, filming every one of
the 40 groups appearing. ''We couldn't communicate well. We didn't
have cellphones then and the walkie-talkies we had were very poor, so
to make up for the lack of communication, we shot more footage. Then
we took nine months to cut it," says Wadleigh.

For him, the standout moment was provided by the intensity of Janis
Joplin's singing. ''It's almost scary the amount of emotion and
energy and passion she puts into her performance," he says.

"I was with Tina Turner when she first saw Janis Joplin, and she said
to Janis 'honey, you can't continue to sing like that or you'll have
no voice', and Janis's response was just to laugh and take a swig on
her Southern Comfort.

''It's a terrible thing, but on the credits at the end of the film,
the number of people who died young is astounding. They lived life at
full tilt.

''Everybody says, 'It's substance abuse', but it's also given to us
incredible music. In a sense they paid with their lives and we're the
beneficiaries.

You just can't expect that they can rigorously separate harmful
abusiveness from passion and conviction."

The 40th anniversary edition is the four-hour long director's cut,
plus two hours of separate footage of some great performances.

A lot of footage was destroyed in a flood at the Warner Brothers'
vaults a few years ago, an accident caused by an earthquake in California.

''So what you see there is the extra footage of the best performances
that survived. As a music lover, I want to see them. You know,
Creedence Clearwater, Johnny Winter, Grateful Dead are in there,"
says Wadleigh.
--

Woodstock 40th Anniversary edition: Warner Home Video DVD, £19.99

.

In Memory of Raymond Yellow Thunder

AROUND THE CAMPFIRE:
IN MEMORY OF RAYMOND YELLOW THUNDER

http://nativetimes.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=2024&Itemid=33

by Dr. Dean Chavers
[June 2009]

The man who caused the American Indian Movement (AIM) to gain
national and worldwide attention was an Indian cowboy from Pine
Ridge. His name was Raymond Yellow Thunder and we should never forget
his name or the abuses his murder revealed. Melvin and Leslie Hare,
two Anglo brothers, local thugs, beat Raymond to death in an American
Legion bar in Gordon, Nebraska in February 1972. Leslie, 28, and
Melvin, 26, were hard drinkers and bar flies.

They had stripped Raymond of his pants and pushed him into the
American Legion bar that evening for people to make fun of him. Then
they took him outside and beat him to death. They put him in the
trunk of their car and drove around Gordon with him. Then they put
him into the cab of a pickup truck in a used car lot where he died.
Two little boys found his body a week later. He had died of a
cerebral hemorrhage.

Raymond was 51 years old. Two other young men and a woman had
harassed Raymond in the bar. Raymond was clearly drunk. He had been a
ranch hand in the local area all his adult life.

Melvin and Leslie were initially charged with assault and battery and
released without bail. After AIM protested, the charges were upgraded
to second-degree manslaughter. One of the five was never charged with
anything. Three of them were charged with manslaughter and the fourth
was charged with false imprisonment. But it was two months after the
murder, in May of 1972, before any charges were made.

The authorities were not going to charge anybody at first. But after
a protest by a caravan of AIM people and people from Pine Ridge, the
Hare brothers were charged. They were convicted and sentenced to a
year in prison. The local Indian leaders called on AIM to come in to
help protect them. The AIM protests over Raymond's killing and the
killing of Wesley Bad Heart Bull led directly to the Indian
occupation of Wounded Knee in February 1973. AIM later established
the Yellow Thunder Camp in Raymond's honor.

Murders of Indians had been going on in South Dakota for a hundred
years by that time. Before the Hares, allegedly, no white man had
ever been arrested, tried, or convicted for killing an Indian. It was
as hard to convict a white man of killing an Indian in South Dakota
as it was to convict a KKK member for lynching a Black man in Alabama.

The signs in stores, bars, and restaurants that said "No Dogs or
Indians Allowed" had started to come down by then. The first time I
went to South Dakota in 1966 they were still up. But even though the
signs had started to come down, the racist attitudes were still there.

The Nebraska Indian Commission reported in 1975 that there had been
426 arrests in Gordon in the previous year. About 75% of them, a
total of 365, were for drinking or some related offense. Almost all
the people arrested were Indians. In the county seat of Rushville
there had been 101 arrests that year, all of them Indians.

The citizenry beat up Indians and harassed them, occasionally killing
them. The police cooperated by using Nazi tactics. They arrested
Indians on any pretext, and literally let white people get away with
murder. Police almost certainly killed Indians as well.

Cathy Merrill of Panhandle Legal Services in Scotts Bluff in 1975
listed the following as some of the common practices of the Gordon
police force:

· Use of excessive force

· Use of verbal threats and conduct

· Selective enforcement of the laws

· Creation and escalation of tension

· Use of authority outside their jurisdiction

· Assaulting prisoners

· General harassment

· Illegal conduct

· Engaging in racist, discriminatory, and prejudicial conduct against
the Indian community of Gordon by use of word, attitude, and manner,
and acting in violation of civil rights laws, the U. S. Constitution,
and human dignity and decency.

Despite protests from the leading AIM activist in Gordon, Bob Yellow
Bird, the City Council refused to do anything about the excessive use
of force by the police. When he met with them, they referred him to
the Gordon human relations council. "The Human Relations Council only
exists on paper," he told them. No one seemed to know who the members were.

A year later, Wesley Bad Heart Bull was also killed in the little
town of Hot Springs on January 16, 1973. His crime: he tried to order
a drink at the bar. He was 22 years old. Even though he had gone to
school in the town, he was not welcome. Darold Schmidt, an Anglo man,
was charged with involuntary manslaughter. He and his buddies pulled
Wesley out of a bar and beat him to death. Schmidt also stabbed him.
The sheriff was not looking into it until Wesley's mother appealed to
AIM. AIM brought a couple of hundred people in to demonstrate.

Schmidt pleaded guilty, was convicted and served one day in prison.
Indian life was cheap in South Dakota. Sarah Bad Heart Bull, Wesley's
mother, served five months for protesting Schmidt's sentence. Indian
protest was dear in South Dakota. The cops struck her in the face
with a baton when she came to the courthouse and fell on her. "Wild
Bill" Janklow was the prosecutor.

They charged Sarah with assaulting a police officer. Russell Means
and Dennis Banks of AIM were later charged with a felony in the same
"riot." They were both convicted of inciting a riot.

The murders of Indians were not restricted to South Dakota. Richard
Morgan, a YMCA camp director in Sonoma County, California killed the
charismatic leader of the Alcatraz occupation, Richard Oakes, on
September 21, 1972. Richard was only 30 years old. He shot Richard,
who was unarmed, in cold blood. Morgan was charged with involuntary
manslaughter. An all-white jury found him not guilty.

Over the next few years, AIM charged that at least 68 Indians were
killed in the Pine Ridge area alone. AIM says that right wing tribal
chairman Dickie Wilson's notorious GOON squad killed most of them.
And 25 years after the fact, an "official" FBI report said the
"facts" were much different. It said most of the Indian people killed
had stoves that blew up, were killed in arguments and knife fights,
or had unfortunate accidents. Whom do you believe?

A number of recent books have shed light on these events. Robert
Warrior and Paul Chaat Smith had their book "Like a Hurricane"
published in 1997. It follows the three years following Alcatraz with
a recital of three Indian land occupations, protests, and similar
actions. There were six dozen land occupations during the next few
years, including Fort Lawton, the Pit River Tribe, the Chumash Tribe,
D-Q University, the Pomo Tribe at Clear Lake, Chicago, Wounded Knee,
the BIA in Washington, DC, and Plymouth Rock.

Stew Magnuson, a Nebraska journalist, published the book "The Death
of Raymond Yellow Thunder" in 2008. It won medals for its portrayal
of the troubled relations between Indians and white people along the
border between South Dakota and Nebraska.

Steve Hendricks had his book "The Unquiet Grave" published in 2006.
It details the death of Anna Mae Aquash, one of the Wounded Knee
occupiers of 1973. This book is very disturbing, and needs to be read
by every student of modern Indian history.

Many Indian young people today have never heard of Alcatraz. Does
that surprise you activists over 50? It disturbs me every time I run
into one of them. We should be using the books on Alcatraz as texts
in our schools. The book by Dr. Duane Champagne and the book by Dr.
Troy Johnson are excellent. Our Indian young people need to know
their history from 300 years ago and from 30 years ago.
--

Dr. Dean Chavers is Director of Catching the Dream, a Native
scholarship organization. His latest books are "Modern American
Indian Leaders" published by Mellen Press and "Racism in Indian
Country" published by Peter Lang Publishers. Contact him at
CTD4DeanChavers@aol.com.

.

Rebel Ohio priest wins his latest battle

Rebel Ohio priest wins his latest battle

http://www.daytondailynews.com/news/ohio-news/rebel-ohio-priest-wins-his-latest-battle-171315.html

By BY MICHAEL O'MALLEY
June 20, 2009

CLEVELAND ­ He was Cleveland's rebel priest, a hell-raiser in a
clerical collar who broke laws to draw attention to the immoralities
of war, racism and poverty. He took on the government, the military,
the weapons industry and the Catholic church. He destroyed property,
was jailed, suspended from the priesthood and targeted by the FBI.

That was 40 years ago, when the Rev. Bob Begin first took his vision
of Christianity to the streets.

Today, at age 71, he appears calm and contemplative, a far cry from
the angry young man who splattered blood inside Dow Chemical's
corporate offices and hijacked the sanctuary at St. John Cathedral to
protest the Vietnam War. The white-haired, bearded Begin, now pastor
of a socially conscious urban church, has the bearing of a
distinguished sage, not a bullhorn militant. But the fire that drove
him in his younger days burns with the same intensity. And Begin
still fights The Good Fight.

"It's who I am," he said in a recent interview. "It doesn't go away."

Begin's latest battle ended in victory last month when he led a
grassroots resistance against an order by Bishop Richard Lennon of
the Cleveland Catholic Diocese to close Begin's 129-year-old parish,
St. Colman's, on West 65th Street.

The order, issued in March, was part of Lennon's downsizing of the
diocese by 50 parishes.

Begin was the only priest interviewed by The Plain Dealer who
publicly criticized the bishop's decision and vowed to fight it.

"We have a conscious obligation to continue our ministry," he told
the newspaper in March. "That's not negotiable."

Begin, a lawyer, wasted no time organizing parishioners and filing a
formal appeal with the diocese.

"The biggest struggle was to keep it from becoming adversarial," he
said. "And so many people wanted to be adversarial. Thank God it
didn't come to that. I would have gotten fired and they would have
had to evict me from the rectory."

On the brink of taking it to the streets again, Begin sought the
guidance of retired Bishop Anthony Pilla, who advised him to work
patiently through the diocese's appeals process.

"I told him to keep a cool head and trust in the Holy Spirit," said Pilla.

Begin obeyed.

And after two meetings with Lennon, Begin convinced the bishop that
St. Colman's social services werevital lifelines to the
neighborhood's poor people and that the church was capable of
operating in the black.

Last month, Lennon rescinded his order and kept St. Colman's open.
Earlier this month, a congregation filled to the back of the church
burst into applause during a Mass of celebration.

"We're so thankful, we're serving ice cream and pizza in the church
hall after Mass," Begin told the happy gathering from the altar. He
then led them in a chant, "The church is the people! The church is the people!"

For Begin, it was the people who saved St. Colman's, but without his
leadership, his followers say, the people would have been lost.

"He had the right tone, despite his reputation as the rebel priest,"
said Eileen Kelly, outreach minister at St. Colman's. "He was calm,
not confrontational.

"It takes courage to speak to authority ­ truth to power. Bob has
that courage and he has the experience. He was the right person for
leading us."

Begin's courage and experience come from years of disturbing The
Powers That Be with his simple Christian gospel.

"He's not intimidated by any power or institution," said his brother,
the Rev. Dan Begin, one of his 12 siblings. "He follows his heart,
his mind and his faith. Our mother always said, 'Do what you are
supposed to do.' "

Forty years ago, Begin felt he was supposed to do whatever it took to
stop an immoral war in Southeast Asia. On a snowy January night in
1969, he led a group of protesters into St. John Cathedral downtown
to take over a midnight Mass.

Begin and the Rev. Bernard Meyer, who has since left the priesthood,
got to the altar before the scheduled priest, the Rev. Monsignor
Francis Carney, and began saying their own Mass.

A Plain Dealer story at the time said Carney called police and
shouted to the congregation, "This is not a Mass. These are not
priests. Please leave." He then shut off the lights. But Begin and
company lit candles and read a statement condemning the war and
challenging the very Christianity of the Cleveland Catholic Diocese.

Begin came off the altar to distribute communion, but another
cathedral priest grabbed his hand, spilling consecrated hosts to the floor.

Two dozen billy-club clutching cops arrived, shoving, kicking and
carrying the two priests, their followers and two newspaper reporters
out the doors.

Begin and Meyer were booked for trespassing and immediately suspended
from the priesthood by Bishop Clarence Issenmann.

But that didn't stop the clerical comrades.

Less than two months later, Begin and Meyer were among nine anti-war
activists who broke into Dow Chemical Co. offices in Washington,
D.C., to protest the company's manufacturing of napalm, Agent Orange
and plastic body bags, used in Vietnam.

Known as the "D.C. 9," the protesters poured human blood throughout
the offices and threw company files out a fourth-story window. They
were arrested, jailed and charged with burglary and destroying property.

A month later, Begin, speaking through a bullhorn, told 1,500
students at Kent State University: "The revolution is begun and
either you come along with the revolution or the revolution will run over you."

Looking back on his hell-raising days, Begin said, "It's hard to
measure the effectiveness of all that. But eventually it was popular
opinion that stopped the war."

Asked whether he would do it again the same way, he said, "Yes, given
the same circumstances." Though he admitted he's a smarter
hell-raiser today than he was back then.

"For most struggles, you have to wait for the right timing," he said.
"It takes strategy. It takes time. I know a lot more now than I did
then. I know you don't rush into things all by yourself.

"I have a vision about what society should do. But my approach now is
like downloading a computer. You keep clicking 'next' and 'continue.'

Four years after the Dow action, Begin was sentenced to four years
probation after pleading guilty to unlawful entry.

Begin would remain suspended from the priesthood for two years.
During that time he organized and lived in a communal house on
Cleveland's near West Side known as the Thomas Merton Community.

It was a place where poor people could get a meal and a bed. One
night an angry husband, looking for his battered wife who was
sheltered in the house, pulled a gun and shot at Begin from across
the street, missing the priest and hitting a bedroom mirror.

Another night, a drunk thrown out of the house by Begin shot out the
windows of the priest's car.

Begin, free on bail in the Dow case, worked as a nursing home orderly
through a temporary work agency.

But every cent he made went into the Merton house and he was so
broke, he had to hitchhike from Washington, D.C., after meeting his
lawyer there.

Bishop Issenmann, whom Begin once described as "a nice guy, but he's
got this authority hang-up," eventually reinstated the exiled priest.
But Begin continued to agitate and embarrass the church, challenging
its commitment to peace and social justice.

In 1973, he told The Plain Dealer, "I still have axes to grind. I'm
ready for confrontation."

Asked back then why he didn't leave the priesthood since he was so
upset with his superiors, Begin responded: "I want to stay in the
church.The bishops will have to deal with me whether they want to or not."

Issenmann held a hard line against Begin ­ even taking away his
salary after he was reinstated ­ but Issemann's successor, Bishop
James Hickey, was more tolerant. He gave Begin a salary and paid his
tuition to law school.

Hickey's successor, Bishop Pilla, who became head of the diocese in
1981, went further. He had confidence in Begin and gave him the
support he needed to fight poverty in Cleveland.

"With Pilla, everything changed," said Begin. "Now we had a bishop
who loved the poor. Under him there was never a need to do
confrontation in the church."

Thus, Pilla tamed the rebel.

"That's quite a significant achievement," laughed the retired bishop
during a recent interview.

But back in the hell-raising days, Begin's conduct was no laughing matter.

"I was sad," said Pilla. "I was asking, 'Why do we have to get to
this point?' I didn't doubt his sincerity, but it hurt the church."

Pilla regards Begin's militant actions as past "mistakes."

"But you've got to be patient with young people," he said. "And I
think we have to look at Bob's dedication to the poor and his
commitment to save St. Colman's."

Under Pilla's reign, Begin worked tirelessly on the city's lower West
Side, creating social services that thrive today.

He founded shelters and support programs for battered women, homeless
people, AIDS victims and Central American refugees. He established a
bail bond fund to spring poor people from jail ­ leading to his own
arrest one night because he didn't have a permit to serve liquor at a
fundraiser.

While working for the poor, Begin found time to protestU.S. military
policies in Central America, traveling to El Salvador, Guatemala and
Nicaragua to observe human rights violations.

He learned Spanish and today is learning Arabic so he can help
refugees from the war in Iraq.

"He brought a conscience to this community," said former
Congresswoman Mary Rose Oakar, who grew up and still lives on the
near West Side. "He was the hippie priest. He wore sandals with no
socks. Like Jesus. My mother thought he was terrific."

One night Oakar and her mother went to St. Patrick's Church on Bridge
Avenue. "And there was Father mopping the floors after a homeless
meal," she said. "He's a very humble guy."

Oakar said Begin's takeover of the cathedral was a wake-up call for
many Catholics to put their faith into action.

"That kind of dramatic episode called attention to the fact that the
church had to be more outspoken against the war," she said. "It shook
everybody up.

"And he was ready to take the same tactic in the battle to save St.
Colman's. He sure as hell wasn't going to give up that church without a battle.

"Father Begin is an original. He's one of the heroes of my Catholic faith."

.

When The War Went Away

When The War Went Away

http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2009/06/19/assignment_america/main5099038.shtml

Assignment America: Friendships Grown Among Men Who Fought On
Opposite Sides Of Vietnam War

June 19, 2009

How do you make a story that already was as good as it gets even better?

If you don't remember from last week, Nguyen Hong My and Dan Cherry
are long lost enemies, reports CBS News correspondent Steve Hartman.

They first tried to kill each other 37 years ago in the skies over
Vietnam. The History Chanel aired a recreation of their epic dog
fight. Dan was piloting the American F-4, Hong My was flying the
North Vietnamese MiG, emphasis on was. Dan blew it out from under him.

As you might imagine, it's hard to make up after that kind of fight.
But a few years ago the two men were reunited on a Vietnamese TV
show. Jerry Springer would have been sorely disappointed.

"He had a very firm handshake," Dan said. "And he says to me,
'Welcome to my country. I'm glad to see that you're in good health.
And I hope that we can be friends.'"

And those weren't just words. After the show, Hong My invited Dan
back to his home. Dan held his grandson, and the War went away.

Today the men are best friends. Just a few weeks ago, Hong My came to
visit Dan at his home in Bowling Green, Ky. The trip was mostly
pleasure, but the men hope it would also serve a more serious
purpose. In fact, our first story ended with that message.

"We hope the fact that we can put this war behind us and we can
reconcile our differences and develop a friendship might help Vietnam
veterans on both sides," Dan said.

Although Hartman didn't know it at the time of their interview, Dan
and Hong My actually had one particular veteran in mind, someone they
thought they could especially help.

For the last 37 years, John Stiles has been trying to forget Vietnam.
He said his case of photos is hidden up in his attic for a reason.

"It brings back uncomfortable memories," John said.

In January of 1972, John was flying reconnaissance missions when his
plane was shot down. He always thought it was ground flak that got
him, but Hong My had evidence to the contrary, including a round, red
medal presented to Hong My by Ho Chi Mihn himself.

"That means that he had shot somebody down," John said.

"And that was you?"

John shook his head yes.

Understandably, John wasn't sure if he wanted to meet Hong My. He was
nervous he wouldn't know what to say. Although, in the end, he didn't
have to say anything. The two men just looked at each other, until
finally, once again, the War went away.

"I felt this huge release of weight that I don't have to carry around
anymore," John said. "It's gone. It was wonderful - just absolutely
wonderful."

Over the next few hours, they talked about planes, toasted their
grandchildren, and showed War for what it often is, a disagreement
between friends who just haven't had a chance to meet yet.

.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Colorado's dome on the range [Drop City]

Colorado's dome on the range

http://www.denverpost.com/headlines/ci_12597164

Filmmakers revisit Drop City, Colorado's groundbreaking artists
commune in the '60s

By John Hendrickson
The Denver Post
Posted: 06/16/2009

In the spring of 1965, three former University of Kansas students
purchased a 6-acre plot of land a few miles north of Trinidad for $450.

Their dream was to create large works of art in which they would live.

"Our long-term vision was that Drop City would function as a 'seed'
for future communities that would sprout around the world," said
Clark Richert, one of Drop City's chief architects, now a professor
at Rocky Mountain College of Art + Design in Lakewood. Drop City was
among the most well-known rural communes in the United States, though
all signs of human life had vanished from the property after less
than a decade. Forty-four years later, its impact as both an artistic
and social experiment is the subject of a documentary in progress.

"Drop City is the best example of the potential and perils of trying
to build an alternative culture in America that I've ever come
across," said documentarian Tom McCourt, associate professor of media
at Fordham University.

In their search for former "droppers," McCourt and filmmaker Joan
Grossman have embarked on a road trip across California, Montana,
Colorado and New Mexico. They will land in Trinidad on Sunday to
share old footage and photographs at "Drop!," an event produced by
History Colorado to honor the late community.

Drop City co-founders Richert and Gene Bernofsky pioneered "Drop Art"
in the early 1960s, dropping objects from the roof of a loft in
Lawrence, Kan., onto the street below as a means of conceptual
artwork. The idea for a "city" grew as a manifestation of this new
expression, and Drop City was established as one of the country's
first communes.

After graduating from the University of Kansas in 1965, Bernofsky and
his wife, JoAnn, set out for Colorado to fetch Richert, who had
graduated two years earlier and was working toward a master's degree
in fine arts at the University of Colorado at Boulder.

"Heading north, we followed tips from townspeople and ranchers as to
where we might find land to purchase ­ tips which eventually circled
us around south near Trinidad. You might say I 'dropped out' to
pursue the Drop City vision, but it is important to understand that
the 'Drop' in Drop City does not refer to 'dropping out,' " Richert
said in an e-mail interview.

Psychologist and psychedelic drug advocate Dr. Timothy Leary coined
the phrase "turn on, tune in, drop out" a few years later, which
became the unofficial mantra of those who embraced counterculture in
the late '60s.

Recycled residences

Designed as a sustainable colony for artists and filmmakers, Drop
City began as a single quasi-geodesic dome constructed entirely from
lumber scraps and old car parts.

"We had already decided to start the community before I attended
lectures by Buckminster Fuller at the University of Colorado . . .
(but) after sitting in on a couple of his six-hour visionary
orations, I became convinced that we should 'take the leap' and build
geodesic domes," recalled Richert.

The innovative settlement, which is receiving renewed attention by
architectural historians, was included in 2001 in "The House Book," a
global survey of 500 past and present residential structures.

Richert, the Bernofskys and fourth founder Richard Kallweit had no
prior knowledge of geodesic geometry. Their first dome, held together
by bottle caps, tar paper and chicken wire, was built with no formal
blueprints.

As settlers poured in, more domed domiciles were constructed, and the
communal kitchen-dome nearly tripled in size.

"Drop City is built on the garbage dump of a dying town of 10,000
strung-out coal miners," wrote Peter Douthit in his 1971 book "Drop City."

Douthit, who adopted the name Peter Rabbit while on the commune, was
one of the "core 12" who lived on the property before national media
exposure and an influx of visitors led the original four to move out
in 1968. Richert returned to Boulder to complete his MFA and created
the artists cooperative "Criss-Cross" with fellow founding members.

"We defined ourselves as an artists community and did not consciously
see ourselves initially as a commune," recalled Richert, "but it is
true we shared ownership of the property, ate meals together and
agreed upon resolution of issues through consensus."

With their film, McCourt and Grossman are hoping to uncover the
deeper history of the settlement and its transformation from
groundbreaking experiment to distant memory.

Search for place

"I've always thought that geography is destiny," Grossman said in an
e-mail. 'Place' is always a highly significant factor in any story.
Consciously or not, we're emulating that search for place by
traveling through the West to make the film."

Ironically, the community's downfall was not necessarily the result
of its location in the desolate Colorado plains, but to overexposure
and a loss of consensus. Within two years, the population had grown
to more than 20 residents and temporary visitors, some of whom saw
Drop City as merely a novelty.

"The avant-garde has a long tradition of being co-opted by mainstream
culture. It happens to all of the important art movements," said
Richert. "It appears to be inevitable: Forms of idealism eventually
reach a large audience and become diluted and corrupted in the process."

After the last of the "core 12" moved away, the settlement remained
inhabited for several years, though the original ideologies of the
founders had all but disappeared.

Now, nearly half a century later, Grossman and McCourt are skeptical
about another Drop City springing up anytime soon.

"In the 1960s, the economy was strong, and no one worried about what
would happen if careers were put on hold or even dismissed for
another way of life," said Grossman. "There's the sense now ­ and
I've seen it with young people when I've taught at universities ­
that practical decisions must be made very young."

However, as a college professor himself, Richert sees echoes of his
radical city in 2009.

"I feel the ideas that Drop City was based on ­ ecology, creativity,
economy ­ are relevant today and that Drop City may still be a model.
There are more obstacles today: more restrictive zoning, building
codes, less access to funding. But being a teacher in an art school,
I see among the young creative types a great interest in finding
alternative approaches to an artistic lifestyle."

Tom McCourt, on the other hand, likens the community's ideals to a
raw form of the American dream.

"There's a long chain of resistance to the established order in
America, and Drop City is a major link in that chain," said McCourt.
"Yet what could be more American than striking out for the West and
trying to build a civilization from scratch?"
--

John Hendrickson: 303-954-1211 or jhendrickson@denverpost.com
--

Drop! will feature rare flim footage, photographs and memories of
Drop City. Filmmakers Joan Grossman and Tom McCourt will be on hand
to discuss their upcoming documentary, as will co-founder Clark
Richert. 4-7 p.m. Sunday, Aultman Hall- Lucky Monkey, 137 W. Cedar
St., Trinidad. Free.
--

View a slide show of images from Drop City, Colorado's '60s'-era
groundbreaking artists commune.
http://photos.denverpost.com/photoprojects/galleries/fashiongalleryV6.html#id=album-5347&num=1

.

Newport '69, a retrospect

Newport '69, a retrospect

http://www.laobserved.com/visiting/2009/06/newport_69_a_retrospect.php

by Jim A. Beardsley, an independent archivist and historical research
specialist in Los Angeles who began researching Newport '69 while
pursuing his master's degree in history at Cal State Northridge.

June 17 2009

This weekend marks the 40th Anniversary of the Newport '69 pop music
festival that was held at the old Devonshire Downs in the San
Fernando Valley. Seen as one of the culminating collisions of
Southern California's 1960s suburban society, Newport '69 was the
fusion of 1) an impractical concept projected to attract multitudes
of the area's youth representing the era's counter-culture, with the
2) by-and-large naïve mainstream establishment of public officials,
police and citizens. Looking back at the event after four decades,
Newport '69 provides a considerable reflection of late-60s American
history in Los Angeles.

The basis of this weekend in Northridge at the onset of summer was a
remarkable exhibition of music and an extraordinary illustration of
mayhem. The stories of the people involved, and of the places
surrounding the occasion recreate a moment when Los Angeles and its
environs blasted though a time of turmoil and exhilaration.

Newport '69 fits comfortably within the context of festivals that
began with the Monterey International Pop Music Festival in June,
1967. The genre attained a widespread popularity after Woodstock was
staged in August, 1969, but fizzled in the early '70s for a variety
of reasons. Fans discovered that large, outdoor venues were lousy
places to hear music; promoters discovered that festivals typically
became financial fiascoes; and local officials discovered that
large-scale events such as Newport '69 were public disasters that
would not be tolerated in their own back yards. It was the first and
last staging of its kind on such a scale in Southern California.

The Venue

The roots of Devonshire Downs can be traced back to 1943. Initial
development on its original 40-acre parcel was facilitated through
the construction of a dispatch depot and military supply warehouse.
While the U.S. Army utilized the site during World War II, Sunday
matinees featured horse racing and picnicking and made the place an
increasingly popular local enclave for equestrian enthusiasts. In
1946, Devonshire Downs began a longstanding run as the locale of the
San Fernando Valley Fair, and development was further enhanced by
1947 when facilities for 20,000 people and 4,000 vehicles were completed.

In addition to the featured horse racing and expositions, after
1948--when the State of California bought the site to house its 51st
District Agricultural Association-- the Downs hosted an odd
assortment of events. These included swap meets, rodeos, the Patsy
Awards (Picture Animal Top Star of the Year), the Scout Craft Fairs
held in 1950s and 1960s by the Boy Scouts of America, an address by
Richard Nixon to a group of Rotarians in 1962 and an Oral Roberts
crusade in 1965.

In 1956, ground was broken for the Northridge campus of Los Angeles
State College and, after becoming San Fernando Valley State College
in 1958, the institution soon set its sights on acquiring the
Devonshire Downs property. Following a long, drawn out process,
Valley State eventually took over stewardship of Devonshire Downs and
built a high-rise dormitory on adjacent property at the northwest
corner of Lassen Street and Zelzah Avenue. By 1968, the Downs had
become a modest operation and Southern California's only harness
racing site, and by 1971 the last of the horses were removed from the
facilities.

Various concerts at Devonshire Downs throughout the 1960s paved the
way for Newport '69--events like the "Valley's first Annual All-Star
Popular Music Spectacular" in 1961, and the "Fantasy Faire and Magic
Music Festival" in July 1967. The latter affair included performances
by Jefferson Airplane, the Doors, Iron Butterfly, the Grassroots and
Canned Heat while the venue was referred to as "Devonshire Meadows."
A comparatively scant amount of attention has been given to this 1967
pre-cursor to Newport '69 which mimicked the festival that had been
staged in Monterey the previous month, and, apparently, it was held
without any major controversy and relatively few difficulties.

The Event

Then 24-year-old Mark Robinson was the man behind Newport '69 and the
logistical challenges it created. In 1968, the Loyola High School
alumnus and recent graduate of Stanford University had produced a
problematical event that was staged in the parking lot of the Orange
County Fairgrounds. Prior to Newport '69, he admitted to a reporter
that the 1968 show "didn't come off exactly like we wanted it to" and
believed facility matters such as sanitation and food concessions
were the major obstacles to a more successful event.

Believing he could remedy a recurrence of 1968's unfulfilled
expectations, Robinson planned, budgeted, hyped, and hoped his way
through what became an even bigger fiasco. In order to make
Devonshire Downs a little more attractive for a music festival,
Robinson made plans to spend "$50,000 of our own on improvements,
including putting in grass and trees," and aimed to recreate "the
carnival-like atmosphere of the old county fair." Various promotions
prior to the opening of Newport '69 boasted of the arrangements for
arts and craft exhibits, fashion shows, vendors, rides, ice water
trucks, an "ample variety of food and soft drinks and fresh fruit," a
supply of "crepe, hospital-like slippers at the gate," shaded picnic
areas, balloons, flowers, fireworks, and, strangely, archery, among
other attractions besides the music.

Further hyperbole included various declarations announcing that
Newport '69 was designed to be "the greatest musical fair ever," a
"giant convergence of humanity for music," a "Summer Solstice
Fantasia," and "Wholesome Too."

Notable among the expenses Robinson budgeted for the event was the
$31,000-or-so fee to be paid for use of the Downs facilities. It's
plausible that Bob Deem-- manager of the Valley State-owned property
at the time--figured he had set up a windfall for the
self-supporting, cash-strapped operation, but really hadn't an
inkling of what he and his College superiors were in for. Additional
pre-event budgeting was reported to include $282,000 for the
performers, $123,000 for advertising, and a total of $37,000 for
fencing, ground covering, shade trees, portable toilets, water
trucks, and helicopters. Advance ticket sales reportedly topped the
$250,000 mark, and just days before the event Robinson stated to a
reporter from the Los Angeles Times that he felt "there's a good
chance we'll gross over a million."

However, in the last few days leading up to the festival, all the
preparation that Robinson had diligently managed began to unravel.
The preliminary prospect of "27 acres of controlled overnight camp
grounds" didn't materialize after local officials revoked their
permit. A Superior Court injunction was issued ordering Robinson to
disclaim any connection with the well-known Newport Jazz Festival
that been held annually for several years in Rhode Island. A
shorthanded private security force that Robinson patched together to
patrol inside the grounds was cautioned to "play it cool," while
Captain Al Lembke of the LAPD's Devonshire Division didn't anticipate
any "confrontations outside the gates."

Publicized directions to the event proved inadequate, and signage in
the area of the venue was practically non-existent.Ticket prices were
seen as fairly outrageous, and claims that the weekend event was
blatantly oversold were most likely valid. One of the biggest
planning errors regarded the lack of any provisions for re-entry to
the grounds by those who tolerated the admission cost then chose to
leave the grounds while the event was in progress. Finally, in a
re-run of problems that hounded the much smaller event held in Orange
County in 1968, event organizers significantly underestimated the
requirements for sanitation, concessions, and parking.

In June of 1969, Mark Whaley was a self-described 20 year-old "hippy
carny" traveling the music festival circuit and sleeping "on the
ground weeks before the shows would kick off." For the Newport '69
event, Whaley gained employment as the stage manager and--when asked
by Mark Robinson for assistance in including some lesser known but
potentially intense acts--was also responsible for adding Jethro Tull
to the schedule of performers. Whaley and his crew would have their
hands full trying to deal with the "McCune" sound equipment, the
"Thomas Edison" lighting system, the throngs of performers,
entourages, strangers, and press that would soon be crowded onto the
immense performance platform, as well as with various over-enthused
spectators who would decide to climb up the front of the lofty stage
or onto the speaker towers.

Weather forecasts for the San Fernando Valley on Friday, June 20,
1969 called for typical late night and early morning low clouds and
fog followed by hazy sunshine and highs of 78 to 85. Scores of Valley
youngsters whom had completed school that week headed for Devonshire
Downs. Some, like a 13 year-old girl who had just graduated from
Junior High School the day before, were in for what she would later
refer to as "the hippest day Northridge ever experienced." Others,
like the comatose, nude young woman who would be passed over-head
through the crowd, would have perhaps less thrilling recollections.
Gates were promised to be opened at 3:00 p.m., and one can imagine
there were any number of final details and snags to address as the
stage was finally set. Many of the performers were ushered onto the
grounds via helicopter, and hosted in a large secured compound of
trailers and equipment behind the stage.

The Ike and Tina Turner Revue kicked off Friday's show. They had
their act down tight, and were locally familiar having played clubs
such as Gazzari's Hollywood A Go Go, Cero's Le Disc, and The Galaxy
earlier in the 60s. The set featured Tina Turner's rendition of
"River Deep Mountain High"--a single that had been recently
co-written and produced by Phil Spector. Additional performers on
Friday included the 64 year-old bandleader Don Ellis and his featured
vocalist, Patty Allen, (who ended up singing in the audience before
the set was finished), blues musician Taj Mahal, and the Edwin
Hawkins Singers. At the the time, Hawkins and his gospel choir had
one of the biggest hits of 1969 going with "Oh Happy Day," and an
extended version of the popular single was reportedly pretty
well-received by the Devonshire Downs crowd.

Inside the grounds, Friday night's show rolled on despite lineup
changes, delays due to technical difficulties, and inadequate
security measures. In addition to the abysmal acoustics all
large-scale, open-air concerts offered, Newport '69 featured the
continuous noise and spotlights of several law enforcement
helicopters which made hearing the performances even more difficult,
if not impossible. Outside the gates, a huge crowd had amassed, and
the scene illustrated that the organizers of Newport '69 were losing
control. Referring to Friday's events, producer Robinson claimed: "We
are really taking a beating. Twenty thousand have sneaked in." Eight
divisions of the L.A.P.D. were put on a tactical alert that continued
throughout the weekend, and a 'Sig Alert' was issued for traffic in
the vicinity of Devonshire Downs.

Despite the really poor acoustics, Joe Cocker took advantage of a
prime-time slot Friday evening and delivered a rousing set that
demonstrated he was at the top of the list of live performance
rockers. Writing a week later for the Los Angeles Free Press,
reporter John Carpenter explained that "Joe Cocker walked away with
the Friday night show. There wasn't even a close second....The
audience was stunned, screamed, stomped on the ground, and was
cheering everything he did." In the Los Angeles Times the following
November, Robert Hilburn confirmed Carpenter's earlier assessment:
"Though he was not well known at the time, Cocker's appearance last
summer at the Devonshire Downs Pop Festival upstaged virtually every
other act, including Jimi Hendrix."

Sandwiched between the sets by Joe Cocker and his Grease Band and
Jimi Hendrix and his Experience, Randy California led the band Spirit
through an excellent live performance that had the crowd singing
along to a single entitled Fresh Garbage. An innovative group with a
loyal following, besides Randy--who had been labeled 'California' by
Jimi Hendrix--Spirit included veteran jazz drummer Ed Cassidy and
vocalist Jay Ferguson.

Hendrix's headlining act fell victim to the show's long delays, and
by the time he and his Experience band mates took the stage it seemed
that most everyone--the crowd, the musicians, and the helicopter
pilots--had had enough for one day and night. Hendrix, who was just
about at the apex of his performance career, reacted poorly with the
crowd and cut short his set for which he allegedly was paid $100,000.
He'd return on Sunday afternoon for an improvised set that was fairly
well received, and pretty much satisfied the promoter's and Hendrix
fans' expectations.

Friday's festivities wrapped up early Saturday morning, well past the
scheduled midnight closing time. Concert-goers looking to stick
around for the remainder of Newport '69 weekend had but little choice
than to crash out wherever they could find space. The grounds at the
Downs were off limits and were thoroughly trashed anyways, and the
portable heads had been wasted by the end of Friday's events. People
found places to sleep on the nearby Valley State College campus, and
on the property of some of the surrounding apartment buildings and
residences. A local paper reported: "Many spent their nights in
sleeping bags or merely in blankets tossed onto fields and street
corners surrounding the former fairgrounds." Dr. Lincoln Riley, as
president of a Northridge homeowners group, later recorded that some
residents were disturbed after they had "to look across the street
and see nude hippies copulating in a vacant field."

Others slept in their cars, and an enterprising resident accommodated
hundreds of vehicles on his property at a rate of a dollar each per
night. Another resident, an apartment owner who confronted visitors
seeking sleeping spaces or swimming pools, claimed that "he stayed up
all weekend just to keep longhairs out of my building."

Saturday

As the gates to Newport '69 weren't scheduled to reopen on Saturday
the 21st until noon, there was plenty of time for some serious
shenanigans in Northridge. Unverified reports claimed all the
hardware stores in the area sold out their entire inventories of wire
cutters. Downs Market near the intersection of Devonshire Street and
Zelzah Avenue opened at 9:00 a.m. and was soon totally swamped with
both paying customers and some people that simply helped themselves
to whatever they could get their hands on such as milk, doughnuts,
beer, and wine. Bob Broman, one of the store's owners, had made it
through Friday with little or no trouble but had closed up shop by
noon on Saturday on account of a few "animals--older, professional
type hippies."

Across the street, Texaco service station proprietor Jack Cunningham
was compelled to close his business after the restrooms had been
trashed, the gas pumps had been vandalized, and some tools and a
cigarette machine were stolen. His take on the scene included the
following perspective: "I had the Hell's Angels, Satan's Slaves, and
War Lords in here [before]... They might have looked dirty but they
cleaned up after themselves and threw their trash in the receptacles.
The hippies were neat too, but it was the kids from the well-to-do
families who were the ones who tore up the place, as far as I'm
concerned." Once again, the lines between the mainstream and the
counter-culture had been blurred as the chaotic nature of Newport '69
kicked into gear.

The relatively peaceful atmosphere that had prevailed within
Devonshire Downs on Friday pretty much continued throughout Saturday
during performances by, among others, Buffy Sainte-Marie, Love,
Steppenwolf, the Womb, Friends of Distinction, Charity, Cat Mother,
Jethro Tull, Credence Clearwater Revival, Eric Burdon, and
Sweetwater. While areas around the stage and backstage were mostly
disorganized and frenzied, the crowd seemed generally mellow as they
sat, stood, or wandered around the grounds. A fellow leading around a
sheep on a leash was witnessed, drink flowed, and scents of marijuana
were definitely in the air.

Outside, and on the perimeter of the Downs, it was another story. Don
Burns worked on a crew charged with repairing fence after it had been
damaged by would-be spectators attempting to gain entry by any means
possible. Burns recollected that he had "two or three Hells Angels
riding on his pick-up" and "they loved to bust heads." Several
creative gate-crashers got in by huddling around limousines that were
ushering performers through the crowded areas, and others took
advantage of their numbers and simply rushed the gates.

Also on Saturday, it became blatantly clear that the hodgepodge
effort to enforce a sort-of convoluted 'order' at Newport '69 was an
exercise in futility. Ron Allen, who was allegedly paid $11,000 to
oversee the festival's security, managed to retain about 250
denim-clad members of the Street Racers gang who promptly armed
themselves with "anything they could find" after their weapons of
choice--lead pipes--got confiscated. Added to Allen's mix of hired
hands "to protect our property and gate receipts" were some forty
members of the Hells Angels, and dozens of student athletes
reportedly from USC, UC Santa Barbara and Cal State Bakersfield. Todd
Everett of Canoga Park applauded Allen's private security efforts at
the festival: "Let me say that I was there, in a concession booth,
for the entire three days. During that time, the motorcycle "gangs"
performed their duties (chiefly crowd control) most admirably, and in
a more calm and restricted manner than that of LAPD, in many cases."
Captain Lembke of the LAPD stated that "They really helped
considerably with solving our problems."

By Saturday night, Mark Robinson's dream of "the greatest musical
fair ever" was on its way to rapidly disintegrating­even though there
was still a lot of great music going on. Led by a 24 year-old John
Fogerty, Credence Clearwater Revival took the stage after a terrific
appearance by Ian Anderson and Jethro Tull. Starting their set with
their hit single, Proud Mary, Credence generated what was, by all
accounts, a giant sing-along. "The group got the loudest and most
prolonged reaction of the festival (with the exception of Janis and
her 'Hi there')," said one report. Unlike Friday's practically
cheerless conclusion, when the lights went out on Saturday after an
abbreviated set by the Los Angeles-based band Sweetwater and its lead
vocalist Nancy Nevins, many in the crowd were still clamoring for more music.

Sunday

Sunday, June 22nd was the make or break day for Newport '69. If the
last day at Devonshire Downs had been--as it had been idealized by
its promoter--just "a place to gather outdoors and have fun
together," the entire event might have been recorded from vastly
different perspectives. Instead, the whole enchilada fell apart. The
venue was utterly trashed. The neighborhood around the Downs was a
mess, and a lot residents were in a tizzy. Mrs. Broman at the Downs
Market exclaimed "I have never seen so many crummy people in my life"
and a repairman who'd come to fix her door reported that he had seen
"people laying all over the fields, many of them nude. The sight was
just filthy." One of the area's long-time residents, Mrs. Thomas
Fleming of Romar Street, was even more panicked: "We were the first
house here, and if I would expect this thing to ever happen again,
I'd want to sell and move."

Compared to all the turmoil in Northridge and outside the grounds at
Devonshire Downs on Sunday, anything that happened onstage was
secondary. Mrs. Fleming reported seeing people "drinking wine by the
gallon." Jeff Sherwood, a reporter for the Van Nuys News, wrote:
"Just sitting on the grounds trying to enjoy the performers, I was
approached by several persons offering to sell me marijuana, LSD and
various other drugs. I saw people sitting all around me smoking
marijuana and drinking alcoholic beverages." Dr. Robert Caper, a
physician at UCLA who volunteered his services at the festival, told
reporters that "at least 11 were treated for 'bad trips' from
hallucinatory drugs."

Jimi Hendrix returned to the Devonshire Downs stage without his
regular band. A jam session featuring Hendrix and Buddy Miles was
hailed as an especially moving moment for those fortunate enough to
hear the music over the din of the crowd and helicopters. Also
included on the slate of those scheduled to perform Sunday were the
Flock, the Grassroots, Marvin Gaye, Mother Earth, the Byrds, Poco,
Booker T and the MG's, and Johnny Winter. Summing up his review of
Sunday's performances, John Carpenter reported the musical highlights
of the fair's final day were "Three Dog Night stopping the festival
cold when the audience demanded an encore and the Chambers Brothers
ending their set with 'Time.'" After the Rascals closed Sunday's
show, the musical components of Newport '69 had concluded, but the
repercussions of the festival had only just begun.

Aftermath

About 400 police officers were deployed during the course of Newport
'69. Assessments of their effectiveness ranged greatly depending on
sources. Homeowner Lincoln Riley assailed "the lack of attention that
was given to the excellence of the Los Angeles Police Department
during the holocaust that occurred." The Los Angeles Free Press had a
different tone, saying that on Sunday "Captain Lembke ordered his Tac
Squad to make a sweep of the area surrounding their compound. As the
line of police proceeded to clear the area, five pigs broke ranks and
began swinging their clubs over their heads. Several bystanders were
injured in the brutal action. It was the action of these five pigs
that precipitated a barrage of missiles."

Liberation News Service ran an article that stated: "Thousands
attempted to storm the gates, some threw rocks and bottles at the
police; the police responded with violent beatings and arrests."
Reporter John Carpenter saw a "red freak get hit on the side of the
side head hard enough to make a sickeningly loud noise." The Van Nuys
News reported that among the injured officers "J. Harvie suffered
internal injuries when he was attacked and beaten by several
persons," and that M.F. Butler received abrasions of the back and a
possible broken thumb during an altercation."

Issues of security, public safety, and the enforcement of law and
order definitely outweighed the promotional hype that Newport '69
would be "a convergence of humanity for music." An article in the Los
Angeles Free Press echoed a sadly consistent opinion: "Newport '69
Pop Festival wasn't. It wasn't Newport; it wasn't Pop; it wasn't even
a Festival. It was a sham, a hype, and most of all, a burn."

In one of the better known contemporary reviews of the event, Pete
Johnson wrote: "it seems as if 1969 and Southern California are
neither the time nor the place to make such an enterprise pleasant or
entertaining." He concluded that "the musical and sociological
results of that gathering have no kinship with the word festival. I
hope this is the festival to end local festivals."

Robert Wilkinson, a Los Angeles City Councilman representing
Northridge, led the call for immediate inquiries to determine "what
can the city do to prevent another disgraceful melee such as occurred
outside Devonshire Downs last week." The event's promoter, Mark
Robinson, along with his attorney--who happened to be his father,
Mark Robinson, Sr.--were hauled into an emergency session of the
police commission, as was Robert Deem, the Downs manager, and Captain
Al Lembke. The community was outraged, and determined that this sort
of debacle wouldn't happen again. Talk of law suits against Valley
State College seeking liability for property damage was bandied
about, and, eventually, an ordinance was presented to the City
Council that sought greater authority to "control such events as the
Devonshire Downs Newport '69 Pop Music Festival."

Even columnist Art Seidenbaum of the Los Angeles Times weighed in on
the event and offered a bit of sound wisdom: "The fiasco of
Devonshire Downs never should of happened in the first place. The
appreciation of music has no place in a pasture for mooing, where
tens of thousand of wayward delinquents can stampede and gather at
the gate. Bad behavior should be no more surprising than bad planning
and production. If the promoters haven't learned that lesson, then
the public must."

In February 1970, in a direct response to Newport '69, Los Angeles
officials approved new city regulations that placed stricter controls
around event bonding, liability insurance, hours of activity,
employees, sanitation, parking, and seating facilities. In the
unlikely event that another music festival would ever be staged again
in Los Angeles, someone would be held accountable and have to pay if
it all went awry.

A few concerts and variety of minor events continued to be held at
Devonshire Downs throughout the 1970s and into the 1980s, including
dune buggy races and a series of punk rock shows. After the last
horses had been removed in 1971, Devonshire Field, a provisional
facility for the Valley State football team, replaced the old race
track and pavilion. Over the following three decades, numerous
attempts at improving the football facilities were made and the site
became known as North Campus Stadium. During that time, CSUN
officials engaged in a series of unsuccessful efforts aimed at
significantly redeveloping the site including a failed bid to have a
world-class velodrome built there for the 1984 Summer Olympic Games.

A few modern facilities that have been constructed on the 100-acre
North Campus site include a CSUN housing project, a cell phone relay
tower, and the manufacturing facilities and offices of a surgical
supply company. The CSUN football team played their last home game at
the old Devonshire Downs site on November 3, 2001 before the sport
was discontinued at the University. One of the barns from the horse
racing days that had been remodeled into football locker rooms in
1981 was probably the last remaining vestige of Devonshire Downs. It
has since been removed.

In the forty years since Newport '69 was staged, the people who made
it happen have moved on in many of the ways lives and time usually
pass and progress. No mention of the numbers of people involved has
been made in this retrospect because contemporary estimates were no
better then the crowd estimates we get today. Suffice it to say there
were thousands, and each surely had a story to tell. The demise of
the show's headliner, Jimi Hendrix, has been well publicized. Mark
Robinson got a degree from Loyola Law School and has been a
successful attorney in Orange County for years. Mark Whaley is a
realtor in Sedona, Arizona. Randy California drowned tragically in
Hawaii in 1997. Robert Deem died in 1990 at the age of 61. Ian
Anderson is still making music and touring, and is set to perform at
the Wiltern on November 6. Nancy Nevins was the victim of a drunk
driver a few months after her appearance at Devonshire Downs in 1969,
and was seriously injured.

And on it goes. It's a pretty good bet there will never be a another
Devonshire Downs in Los Angeles, and there most certainly will never
again be a weekend quite like Newport '69.

.

The Real History of a Radical [I.F. Stone]

The Real History of a Radical

http://www.inthesetimes.com/article/4496/the_real_history_of_a_radical/

Putting I.F. Stone in perspective.

By Doug Ireland
June 15, 2009

By the time I.F. "Izzy" Stone died in May 1989 at age 82, he had
transformed from America's premier radical journalist into a
respectable icon of his profession. His passing was carried on all
four major television networks. On ABC, Peter Jennings hailed him as
"a journalist's journalist" and, citing Stone's credo­"To write the
truth, to defend the weak against the strong, to fight for
justice"­proclaimed it "a rich experience to read or reread Stone's
views on America's place in the world." His obituary was featured on
the front pages of the New York Times, which called him "an
iconoclast of journalism," the Washington Post ("a dogged
investigator and a concise and clever writer"), the Los Angeles Times
("the conscience of investigative journalism"), and the Philadelphia
Inquirer ("Like Sunday doubleheaders and the five-cent cigar, I.F.
Stone was an American institution").

But three and a half decades earlier, at the height of the domestic
Cold War and McCarthyism, not a single daily newspaper dared to run
Stone's byline. He wrote in his own newly-founded newsletter I.F.
Stone's Weekly: "Early Soviet novels used a vivid phrase, 'former
people,' about the remnants of the dispossessed ruling class. On the
inhospitable streets of Washington these days, your editor often
feels like one of the 'former people.' " A fixture on "Meet the
Press" from its inception in 1946 until 1949, he suddenly
disappeared, not to be seen again on national television for 18
years. Yet Stone's flattering obituaries universally ignored the real
reasons that had long made him a pariah. As D.D. Guttenplan notes in
his new biography, American Radical: The Life and Times of I.F.
Stone, "Only John R. MacArthur, writing in the socialist weekly In
These Times, hinted at the reasons for Stone's long isolation or the
threat he posed to mainstream journalism when he was still alive and
reporting news that his newfound acolytes wouldn't even recognize as news."

American Radical is the third biography of Stone to appear since his
death­and the best. Guttenplan's book, 15 years in the making and
more exhaustively researched than the previous efforts, is based on
archival material not previously consulted and 130 fresh interviews
with people who knew Stone (including yours truly). And Guttenplan is
more profoundly in sympathy with the radicalism that animated Stone.
But this is no uncritical hagiography. Guttenplan presents Stone as
he was­warts and all. He could be difficult, caustic and cutting with
colleagues, friends and even his own family. His impatient
irritability increased when he became nearly deaf in his late
thirties and was forced to use the imperfect hearing aids of the
period (which he sometimes used to good effect for investigative
eavesdropping).

Guttenplan, in felicitous, colorful and evocative prose, restores
Stone in all his rambunctious glory as a superlative journalistic
insurrectionary, an "irritant to power­for his uncanny ability to
seize on the most inconvenient truths and for his vociferous
opposition to the existing order." To Stone, journalism was activism.
In the 1930s and 1940s, he was a player in the corridors of power,
deeply involved in what Oliver Wendell Holmes called "the passion and
action of our times."

Born Isadore Feinstein in 1907, the first-generation son of
Yiddish-speaking immigrant parents, Stone was tapped as a protégé by
the liberal publisher of the Camden Courrier, J. David Stern, who
made him a reporter during his senior year of high school. But when
the city editor refused his request to go to Boston to cover the 1927
executions of anarchists Sacco and Vanzetti, Stone, already a
self-educated radical, quit the paper in a fit of pique and
hitchhiked to Boston on his own. After a brief stint at the
Philadelphia Inquirer, Stone was lured back to Stern's Courrier to
become a theater and film critic.

Guttenplan chronicles the ups and downs of Stone's career and his
blending of journalism and politics, calling him a "one-man united
front." At the height of the Great Depression, Stone put his
personal, crusading stamp on the pro-New Deal editorial page of the
New York Post as chief editorial writer, and was also a star
muckraker for The Nation.

But he was also an active part of the New Deal's left wing. Brash,
radical, anti-fascist and pro-labor, Stone was an intimate of "Tommy
the Cork" Corcoran (FDR's political fixer), lunched regularly with
Felix Frankfurter (FDR's talent spotter who recruited bright young
men for the administration), and got exclusive leaks for
investigative stories from pugnacious populist Harold Ickes (FDR's
secretary of the interior and political warhorse). His political
memos even wound up on Roosevelt's desk. As Guttenplan puts it, Stone
"rode into battle not as a paladin of the powerless or a gadfly, but
as an insider, a confidential agent of the [left-wing] 'party within
a party' that served the president's purposes."

Never a blind follower, Stone criticized Roosevelt's compromises as
The Nation's first Washington correspondent in the early 1940s and
later broke with Truman, supporting Henry Wallace's 1948 presidential
bid despite his disdain for Wallace's Communist-supported Progressive
Party. Guttenplan traces Stone's complicated and nuanced relationship
with the Communist Party and its members with political sophistication.

After stints at the progressive-radical daily New York newspaper PM
(which epitomized Popular Front politics), the short-lived New York
Star and the Daily Compass, Stone ran into the juggernaut of a United
States increasingly "gripped by an ice-age of fear and political
paralysis" as anti-Communism fervor fermented. Though he'd never been
a member of the Communist Party, when the Compass folded in 1952,
Stone, now 44, found himself unemployable. Even The Nation gave him
the cold shoulder. "I feel for the moment like a ghost," he wrote. So
in 1953, he launched his own newsletter, I.F. Stone's Weekly.

Guttenplan recreates the Popular Front climate in which Stone came to
political maturity and prominence, and paints the domestic paranoia
of the Red Scare that made him an outcast. For five years Stone was
the subject of a full-scale FBI investigation of accusations he was a
Soviet spy. He was followed everywhere. His phone was tapped. And all
his mail was intercepted, which meant every subscriber to I.F.
Stone's Weekly got her or his name on the FBI's lists. Guttenplan
demolishes the absurd pretense that Stone was a KGB agent, a smear
that still circulates on the hard right.

Guttenplan seems to have read every one of the 3.5 million words
Stone wrote during the 19 years of the Weekly's existence, and he
does a masterful job of tracing the history of its many scoops and
crusades, in addition to chronicling Stone's life. The Weekly became
a key element in the political education of the new generation of
'60s leftists, providing the anti-Vietnam War movement with the
information it needed for its 15-year fight. By 1970, when Stone
received a special George Polk Award in journalism, his
rehabilitation was complete. American Radical is the must-read story
of the loneliness of the long-distance runner, a story of
unimaginable courage, stamina and a stubborn refusal to let the
bastards wear you down.

.

Polyamory: When One Spouse Isn't Enough

Polyamory: When One Spouse Isn't Enough

http://abcnews.go.com/Health/US/story?id=7870884&page=1

Some See Polyamorous Marriage as the Next Civil Rights Movement

By SUSAN DONALDSON JAMES
June 18, 2009

She has a birth name but calls herself "Ashara Love," because most
people don't understand her unconventional family.

Love, a 51-year-old insurance underwriter from California, has been
married to her husband "Cougar" for a decade, but they've had
numerous sexual triads, which they insist have enriched their relationship.

"I am living my life partially hidden and partially open," said Love,
whose friends and boss know about her sexuality, but her parents do not.

"Many of us adopt another name because it provides us with protection
from being outed," she said. "We are the next generation after the
gay and transgender communities."

As polyamorists, the couple belongs to a small group that believes
people have the right to form their own complex relationships with
multiple partners. The most vocal want the right to marry -- as a cluster.

"We have rights to love any way we want unless we are harming other
people," said Love. "Like the air we breathe, we have a right to be
and do and say whatever is our full expression, and this to me is a
civil right."

The polyamory movement grew out of the communes of the 1960s and the
swingers of the 1970s, but today, with gay marriage legal in six
states, some, such as Love, say their cause should be next.

This nascent and as yet small effort to legalize group marriage is
likely to enrage conservative religious groups that upheld
Proposition 8, California's ban on gay marriage. In hard-hitting ads,
those groups charged that allowing gay marriage would open the door
to all kinds of nontraditional relationships, including polygamists.

"These group marriage people are certainly fringe but clearly
growing," said Glenn Stanton, director of family formation studies at
Focus on the Family.

"Google the word 'polyamory' and see how many groups there are," he
told ABCNews.com. "And look at their rhetoric. It is word-for-word
what same-sex marriage advocates employ in their effort to redefine
marriage. Is it really a good idea to open this Pandora's box?"

But Love said polyamory is more about the spiritual and emotional
connection between partners -- who in her group are faithful -- and
not just about sex.

The couple belongs to the group Loving More, which publishes a
magazine and holds conventions and retreats for the like-minded.

Founded in 1986, the organization has more than 15,000 on its global
mailing list and 3,000 active members.

"Now we have the Internet and we can find each other," said Love. "We
are not odd fish in the community we live in."

Polyamorous Murder Case Shocks Capital

But too often, polyamory gets a bad name.

Just this month, investigators in the 2006 unsolved murder of
prominent Washington, D.C., attorney Robert Wone, say the three
primary suspects -- all gay male professionals -- lived in a
polyamorous relationship.

Police affidavits speculate that Wone was "restrained, incapacitated
and sexually assaulted" before his death, then the trio tampered with
the crime scene to cover it up.

Last November, Wone's widow, Katherine, filed a $20 million wrongful
death lawsuit against housemates Joe Price, Victor Zaborsky and Dylan
Ward, who were charged with obstruction of justice and conspiracy in
connection with the fatal stabbing.

But polys, as they call themselves, say lurid crimes like the Wone
case do not define their lifestyles, which are as varied as their
partners and personal arrangements.

Like Love, Robin Trask of Loveland, Colo., struggled with monogamous
dating relationships in high school.

"My mother lived in Colorado and my father was in Texas, so I had a
boyfriend in each place," Trask, the executive director of Loving
More, told ABCNews.com.

Polyamory Allows Multi-Partners

"I felt wretched about myself," said Trask, 45. "I fell deeply in
love with two people, and I had to choose."

Trask has three partners: the man she has lived with for four years;
a man with whom she has been involved for 23 years who is married and
lives outside the country; and a third man from New York City (he
might be married; she doesn't know).

There are rules. The wife of her second partner forbids her husband
to sleep with anyone but Trask.

Trask's sexual encounters are always one-on-one with a partner. But
in a previous polyamorous marriage of 18 years, she had a threesome
with her husband and his girlfriend.

"The dynamic was different, and it surprised me," said Trask, who
identifies as heterosexual. "For me, it was about spirituality, much
more about the relationship and emotional connection than just sex."

Polyamorous Children Grown Up Together

Trask likes the extended family that polyamory provides. She has
three children -- 22, 18, 13 -- and her first husband's girlfriend
also had children who spent holidays together.

"These are important relationships," she said. "The children grew up
together."

Some polys support legalizing civil unions or incorporating their
"clusters" as a corporation to gain health care and joint property
rights. But Trask said her biggest concern is raising awareness so
polys do not lose their children or jobs.

"We want it to be OK when you have two dads or two moms -- or
whatever configuration -- at parent teacher conferences, and they
don't freak out on you."

In polyamory, there are still are jealousies and pain, the same
dynamics that can occur in a monogamous marriage, but the "full
disclosure" between partners makes it more honest, according to Trask
and Love.

Polys say that monogamy is a cultural norm that often fails. "As a
result, many marriages are train wrecks, even when they don't end in
divorce," said Love's husband, "Cougar," 58.

"Few people have good models to base their polyamory rules on," he
told ABCNews.com. "For this reason, polyamory agreements must be
negotiated with tenderness, empathy, partnership and the commitment
to keep everyone safe."

Polyamorists Value Fidelity

Love and Cougar's goal is to create a "polyfidelitous family" --
four, five or six people who don't have relationships outside the marriage.

"Every person in a cluster or family realizes that no one can be
completely happy if anyone is not," he said.

But Judy Kuriansky, a sex therapist and professor at Columbia
University Teachers College, said being successful at polyamory is a
tall order.

"[It] demands knowing yourself, replacing guilt with acceptance,
communicating and embracing sexual energy, spirituality, new beliefs
and a new culture," she told ABCNews.com. "Overcoming jealousy is key."

As a clinical psychologist, Kuriansky has seen some "dismal failures,
even for the leading proponents."

"One wife left her poly husband, saying, 'I'm just a girl from
Kansas. I finally realized I don't want my husband f**king other
women.' A husband had a rude awakening when his wife added another
man to their household and her bed, only to declare she wanted a
sexual exclusivity with another man."

According to expert Deborah Anapol, polyamory has been accepted by
many cultures. In Hawaii, where she lives today, there is even a word
for the extra partner -- "punalua."

"We talk like we invented it, but it's been around a long time," said
Anapol, who counsels couples and families, and is writing a new book
on the topic, "Understanding Polyamory in the 21st Century."

Most Not Interested in Marriage

But, she said, today's polys have little interest in legalizing
marriage, and "the state being involved in their lives.

"Polys don't want to make it into a special identity and don't want
to be known as a poly person," said Anapol. "They just want to live
their lives. A movement tends to put you in an oppressed, underdog position."

"I'd like to think the movement has already succeeded and in the most
liberal parts of this country, it's more accepted," she said. "The
shift has already happened."

At 57, Anapol is now "single" after two marriages -- one traditional
and the other polyamorous -- which produced two daughters.

"Both are comfortable with the idea," she said. "The 37-year-old has
chosen a conventional monogamous marriage and the 20-year-old is
still experimenting, but definitely attracted to the idea."

But Anapol, who has several long-term "intimate friendships," has
discovered that being polyamorous "doesn't solve all marital problems."

As for Love and Cougar, who celebrate their 10th anniversary this
month, they say their relationship is "extraordinary."

"We've been very cautious," said Love. "He likes to say he steals my
boyfriends. I am not interested in men unless they are interested in me."

"Every person is seeking to find a fit that works for them," she
said. "It's hard enough to find a monogamous partner. It's
exponentially harder to fit the quirks of two people, plus a third person."

.

The Sixties [book review]

[2 articles]

With a colourful history of drug-taking and rebellion, author Jenny
Diski tells why she isn't one to romantacise the Sixties

http://scotlandonsunday.scotsman.com/sos-review/With-a--colourful-history.5384725.jp

Published Date: 21 June 2009
By Aidan Smith

WE ALL wish we were better read, but if you can't be, let people
think you are. Twice I reckon I managed to impress with my
literary-based trivia, most recently at a posh wedding, on being
introduced to a young man called Balthazar, when I wondered out loud:
"... as in the beastly beatitudes?" The time before that was six
years ago, on a train in Canada, and a young woman's name-tag
prompted me to inquire: "Any relation to Jenny Diski?"

I've never read JP Donleavy but I have read Jenny Diski, who today is
sitting in her publisher's office in Bloomsbury, London, while Chloe,
her daughter and the girl on the train, waits for her on the other
side of the glass partition. This is disconcerting for the writer
because I've just asked how she went about motherhood, after her own
mother made such an appalling job of it.

A reasonable question, given how much Diski, 62, has written about
her gruesome childhood, and that her mother creeps in and out of her
third memoir, about the Swinging Sixties. At first she says: "I'm not
going to talk about that because my daughter gets very cross." But
moments later she's explaining how the first memoir, Skating To
Antarctica, wasn't prompted by the urge to travel, more to flee a
possible reunion with her mother.

She says: "When Chloe was on her gap year she started mouldering on
about having a granny somewhere. I told her I didn't want to know.
But she went to the records office to find out if she was still
alive, so I went to ends of the earth. Luckily for all of us ­
including, I think, my mother ­ it turned out she'd died in 1988.

"So what kind of mother am I? Less mad, hopefully."

Born in London to Jewish parents, Diski had adored her conman father
(he seduced well-off women) who left when she was six, when her
mother suffered a nervous breakdown. That was the age at which Diski
says she became depressed and the Sixties, however much they swung,
didn't change things. "I was a miserable cow," she says.

Swotting up on Diski, I thought she might be a difficult interviewee.
She doesn't do eye contact, and sometimes she answers abruptly, but
she can also be funny. "We are the disappointed remnant, the rump of
the Sixties" is one of several good lines from the book. When I quote
it back at her, she says: "Maybe my publishers should give away
knickers with the book saying 'Jenny's disappointed rump', what do you think?"

Then she tells me that the book's themes­ Were the Sixties really
about changing the world? Weren't the ideas old ones dressed up by
Biba? Didn't Sixties "freedom" open the way for Eighties greed and
self-interest? ­ are to be the subject of a debate on Radio 4's Today
programme. "Who shall we get on, they said ­ Pete Townshend? I said
Pete Doherty. Someone of this generation who complains that the
children of the Sixties are always banging on about them but who
doesn't write anything in riposte. I'd love to discuss this with Mr
Doherty but the only name they've come back with is Felix Dennis
(publisher of Oz in the Sixties; less epochal stuff since]. What am I
going to say to him? How's Asian Babes?"

Diski initially turned down her book, called simply The Sixties. "We
didn't need any more about the period, and they were all dreadful.
Too partisan, too sentimental ­ or written by ten-year-olds." So what
changed her mind? "If someone's insistent enough then eventually I'll
do anything."

Perhaps the most headline-grabbing line in the book is: "On the basis
that no means no, I was raped several times by men who arrived in my
bed and wouldn't take no for an answer." In the flower-power era no
one said it with flowers. "Want to f***?" was usual chat-up. "And it
was considered rude not to," she says.

Expelled from boarding school for attending an all-night party and
sniffing ether, a runaway, an attempted suicide at 15 and a
foster-daughter of Doris Lessing (whose dinner-party guests included
radical psychologist RD Laing), Diski says she was "the Sixties
waiting to happen". In the second of her three "bins" ­ psychiatric
hospitals ­ she developed a taste for methylamphetamine. Back in the
real world of a Covent Garden bedsit, she smoked dope, dropped acid
and even tried heroin. The night she thought bugs were crawling over
her body persuaded her to quit drugs. Presumably, though, the bugs
were preferable to unwanted men.

Diski doesn't romanticise the Sixties; nor does she name-drop. She
had a friend who lived with Pink Floyd but he doesn't make it into
the book, and his glamour quotient was dulled by him being "as mad as
a rat" and convinced "the mother of all pubic crabs" inhabited the flat.

The Sixties was a time of great narcissism ­ "there's no doubt about
that." But she doesn't hold with the view that the hippie begat the
yuppie. "We may have been woolly-minded but we were interested in
what was going on in the world and concerned about each other ­ more
than the young now, I think."

For the would-be writer, the Sixties was the "solipsistic dream".
"Others took drugs and had sex; I did them and sat in a corner and
watched all these crazy thoughts zoom past." Diski's bad poetry from
that era is kept under lock and key, far away from her current
partner, a proper poet, Ian Patterson, but the writing has got much
better since then.

So what's her next book about? "Animals," she says. "I much prefer
them to humans." v
--

The Sixties (Profile, £10.99) is published 2 July

--------

The Sixties

http://www.ft.com/cms/s/2/ca478290-5c53-11de-aea3-00144feabdc0.html

Review by Michèle Roberts
Published: June 22 2009

The Sixties
By Jenny Diski
Profile £10.99, 143 pages

Jenny Diski is one of Britain's sharpest social commentators, her
writing distinguished by its bleak wit, its honesty and acerbity.
Looking back at the radicalism of the 1960s, the attempts to change
consciousness, the sex'n'drugs'n'rock'n'roll, she invokes nostalgia
and immediately mocks it: "In truth, the only thing that is
absolutely certain is that the music then was better."

Viewing this era through the lens of personal memoir makes sense,
says Diski: "After all, weren't the Sixties accused above all of
having consolidated the sense of the self which created that most
monstrous beast: the Me Generation?"

Born in 1947 in London, Diski reminds us that "the Sixties" actually
began in the mid-1960s with the rise of popular culture, "aided by a
generation of people who did not have an urgent economic fear, nor
(in Britain) a war to deal with". It ended in the mid-1970s, "when
all the open-ended possibilities we saw began to narrow, as
disillusion, rightwing politicians, and the rest of our lives started
to loom unexpectedly large".

She crammed in intense experiences, "regretting the Beats, buying
clothes, going to movies, dropping out, reading, taking drugs,
spending time in mental hospitals, demonstrating, having sex,
teaching". She worried about the cold war and went on the Aldermaston
marches. American culture and politics were a powerful presence.

Diski's narrative perspective wavers interestingly between "I" and
"we". Sometimes "we" means everybody, sometimes middle-class youth,
sometimes a particular bunch of refuseniks. It rarely refers to
political groups ­ she neither joined the organised left nor became
part of women's liberation.

The Sixties is Diski at her most characteristically brilliant ­ but
she doesn't reflect on how this time later informed her fiction or
non-fiction. Yet the complicated experience of these years clearly
helped to turn her into a writer, one perhaps most at home in
intellectual exploration in non-fiction.

Her analysis is that of a clever individual eager to experiment with
communal living but determined to think for herself. Those aims could
prove contradictory. Diski's youthful sense of vibrant self
occasionally shattered. She charts a breakdown, suicide attempt and
psychiatric treatment. Her experience of being detained in London's
Maudsley Hospital under the Mental Health Act and forcibly injected
with Largactyl provokes a brilliant chapter on the brutal treatment
of "the institutionalised mad" and the resulting anti-psychiatry movement.

She contrasts the appalling suffering of those going through
psychotic episodes with the calm philosophising of those observing
them. She admires RD Laing as a theoretician but criticises him as a
practitioner: "Dr Ronnie's patients were often dumped back into
institutions or left to cope for themselves when they became too hard
even for him to handle."

If mental suffering could not be wished away in words, nor could
sexual jealousy, much as the communards of Diski's generation tried
to abolish it by trying to ban the word "no": "It was very difficult
not to fuck someone who wanted to fuck you without feeling you were
being very rude ... The idea that rape was having sex with someone
who didn't want to do it didn't apply very much."

Feminists reinstated the idea of female desire and argued for the
necessity of female solidarity but Diski felt wryly detached from
such collectivity. Instead, she co-founded a free school and argued
for liberal education for both sexes.

What was the 1960s' legacy? Diski asserts that believing in the
individual's right to respect and equality didn't inevitably bring
about "the greed and self-interest of the Eighties". She concludes
glumly: "Some fine souls are still battling; most of us who had the
good fortune to be part of the Sixties are plain discouraged."
--

Michèle Roberts is author of 'Paper Houses: A Memoir of the 70s and
Beyond' (Virago)

.

Museum Exhibit Puts You In The Bed-In

Museum Exhibit Puts You In The Bed-In

http://www.pollstar.com/blogs/news/archive/2009/06/16/673067.aspx

June 16, 2009
by Jay Smith

Want to soak up the atmosphere of the hotel room where John Lennon
and Yoko Ono held their famous Montreal Bed-In? It all comes alive in
a re-creation of the historic moment at The Museum at Bethel Woods.

The exhibit at the museum, located in at the Bethel Woods Center For
The Arts in Bethel, NY, is called "Give Peace A Chance: John Lennon
and Yoko Ono's Bed-In For Peace" and it freezes in time the moment
over 40 years ago when the newly married couple held court from their
bed in a room at Montreal's Queen Elizabeth Hotel in 1969 where they
spent a week campaigning for peace.

Oh, yeah. They also recorded a song ­ "Give Peace A Chance."

"They started to talk about maybe doing a recording a few days
before, but the actual decision was taken very shortly before the
actual recording took place," Andre Perry told Pollstar. As the
producer of the live recording session, Perry had insider access to
John and Yoko as well as the celebrities that flocked to the famous
Bed-In, including comedian / activist Dick Gregory, LSD advocate
Timothy Leary and Smothers Brother Tommy.

"It was a bit of a circus, really," Perry said. "There were people
coming in and out. There were newspaper people, film people. In and
out, in and out of the suite. Even though it's called a 'suite,' if
you were to go there you would realize on film and on camera it looks
much larger than it is. It's very small really, with a very low ceiling.

The recording of "Give Peace A Chance" took place on June 1, 1969.
Along with it being a landmark moment in '60s pop, it also features
one of the more unusual pairings in rock history ­ John Lennon and
Tommy Smothers.

"He [Lennon] spent most of his time with Smothers figuring out the
guitar playing, because Smothers was playing more in a folk style.
They kind of got that going, and then we had a run-through. The
second take ­ one, two, three, four, and there it went."

And that's how the first solo single by a Beatle while still a member
of the famous foursome was recorded.

"I wanted to preserve the essence of it, which was his voice and the
two guitars," Perry said. "What we're hearing on that recording is
exactly him. It's completely untouched. It's absolutely wonderful.
That energy is there.

"And it's take one because the first take wasn't considered a real
take. It was a take for sound. It was also a take making sure
everything was in place."

You can see it all at the "Give Peace A Chance" special exhibit at
The Museum at Bethel Woods, including never-before-seen photos from
the archives of photographer Gerry Deiter who was assigned by Life
magazine to cover the event, and was requested by John and Yoko to
stay for the entire week of the Bed-In.

The exhibit also includes, along with more than 30 large-format
photographs, 15 text panels with personal stories and recollections
from those who were there. Like Andre Perry.

"We spent four wonderful hours together ­ John, Yoko and myself ­
doing the flip side of the 45," Perry said. "That was a very tender
moment for me. They had just gotten married at that time, and it was
really wonderful because they were very much in love. He was very sweet to her.

"She sang 'Remember Love,' which was the flip side, a very difficult
song to sing in falsetto as she sang it. She had been bashed around
by critics for the Beatle thing, or whatever, She wasn't known to be
the greatest singer in the world, and yet that was a very difficult
song to sing."

Perry said they took numerous takes of the song, but Yoko was having
problems with it. Eventually, according to Perry, the famous couple
stopped recording and went back to bed.

"They tickled and laughed and kissed each other," Perry said. "I felt
a little strange, so I said, 'Look, do you want me to leave for a
while?' and they said, 'No, no no.'

"What he was doing was putting her in a relaxed mode. They were lying
on the floor leaning against the bed and I was about five feet from
them. They kept doing it until they got the perfect take."

"Give Peace A Chance: John Lennon and Yoko Ono's Bed-In For Peace"
runs through September 7. For more information, please click here for
the Bethel Woods Center For The Arts Web site.
http://www.bethelwoodscenter.org/

.

OBIT: Abram Hoffer, psychiatric contrarian

Abram Hoffer was a psychiatric contrarian

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/deaths/abram-hoffer-was-a-psychiatric-contrarian/article1190706/

He dedicated his life to developing alternative medical therapies for
psychiatric patients

Sandra Martin
Jun. 23, 2009

Do no harm is the basic tenet of the physician's credo and that is
the way psychiatrist Abram Hoffer practised orthomolecular medicine,
one patient at a time, for more than 50 years. His theories about the
benefits of vitamins and nutrients were dismissed by the medical
establishment and Big Pharma ­ as he invariably described the
international drug companies. Nonetheless, thousands of patients,
many of them desperately ill from cancer or dangerously debilitated
by schizophrenia, lauded him for giving them a longer or better
quality of life. And his belief in the power of nutrition remains a
foundation of naturopathic medicine and the health food movement.

Dr. Hoffer died on May 27 in Victoria. He was 91.

He came to medicine from biochemistry and already had a PhD when he
went to medical school in the late 1940s. That perspective as a
researcher, as well as the independent streak nurtured while working
on his parents' farm in southern Saskatchewan in the Depression,
helped mould him as a contrarian in the medical profession.

Early in his career he worked with Humphrey Osmond, the British
psychiatrist who gave Aldous Huxley LSD and coined the word
psychedelic. Both men realized that by ingesting hallucinogens,
healthy people experienced schizophrenic-like delusions. Like Albert
Hoffmann, the Swiss scientist who synthesized LSD in 1938, they
foresaw the therapeutic use of hallucinogens in psychoanalysis and in
treating schizophrenics. And they believed, as did Dr. Hoffmann, that
LSD had been first hijacked by Timothy Leary and the 1960s
counter-culture and then medically demonized by its authoritarian and
establishment critics.

That is not to suggest that Dr. Hoffer was a pill pusher. The
opposite is true. He believed that eventually drugs will become
"minor aspects of modern medicine rather than the major treatment and
preoccupation of the medical establishment" as he wrote in his
memoirs, Adventures in Psychiatry . Instead, he argued that the route
to good health lay in assessing and then providing the "optimum
amount of the basic nutrients" needed by each person.

"The origins of disease, in my opinion, are not genetic; no genes are
bad genes. Any genes that are truly bad would destroy the individual
before birth," he wrote in Adventures in Psychiatry . "If multiple
sclerosis strikes at age 25, why were the genes supposedly at fault
doing so well until then," he asked rhetorically. The problem is not
our genes, but the way we abuse them through "the intake of incorrect
or inadequate nutrients (and what is correct and adequate is unique
to each person) or by radiation or chemical injury."

His favourite example of how nutrients can be of huge epidemiological
benefit to society was the U. S. government's decision in 1942 to
mandate that flour had to be enriched with vitamins during the
milling process. Consequently, the incidence of pellagra, a vitamin
deficiency disease caused by a lack of niacin (vitamin B3) plummeted.
Pellagra, usually diagnosed by the presence of the four Ds ­
diarrhea, dermatitis, dementia and death, if untreated, within four
or five years ­ was endemic in the poorer parts of the southern U.S.
a century ago.

"This legislation was probably one of the greatest single public
health measures ever introduced," according to Dr. Hoffer. "It has
prevented millions of people worldwide from getting and dying from pellagra."

Until the end of his long life, Dr. Hoffer remained optimistic that,
like Galileo, he would be proved correct.

When Israel Hoffer and his older brother Meyer fled Hungary with
their wives in 1904, they headed for southern Saskatchewan, lured by
the promise of bountiful land and the possibility of saying farewell
to religious persecution. They dug into the fertile prairie, built
themselves sod houses and began tilling the soil and raising a new
generation. By the time Abram, the fourth of Israel and his wife
Rose, was born on Nov. 11, 1917, the family had built a wooden house.

Abram went to one-room schools and worked in the fields, along with
his siblings and the hired hands, "cutting and raking and stoking,"
as he said in a 2006 interview with journalist Rob Wipond. Working 10
hours a day, often seeing nobody but other members of the threshing
crew, made him so self-reliant that "I got to the point that I would
sooner look upon things myself rather than take people's opinion of them."

His father wanted Abram to work the farm after he graduated from high
school but his mother's fervent wish that he get a university
education prevailed. In 1934, he entered the University of
Saskatchewan in Saskatoon, concentrating on agricultural chemistry,
and graduated four years later with a Bachelor of Science in
Agriculture (BSA) with great distinction.

By 1940, armed with a master's degree in agricultural biochemistry,
he began, with the help of a scholarship, to work toward his
doctorate at the University of Minnesota. His money ran out after a
year, so he accepted a job setting up a laboratory to measure
thiamine (vitamin B-1) levels in grain products at Purity Flour Mills
in Winnipeg. By streamlining the measuring process, he was able to do
the research on his PhD thesis (on the distribution of thiamine in
wheat kernels) while holding down a full-time job.

Realizing that his real appetite was for original research, he quit
the flour mill in 1945 and moved with his wife Rose and young son
Bill to Saskatoon to begin medical school at the University of
Saskatchewan. Accustomed to a scientific education that was heavy on
reasoning, he was unimpressed by the emphasis on memorization in his
medical training.

Nevertheless, he earned his degree in the spring of 1949 and began
interning at City Hospital in Saskatoon. After a year seeing a
variety of acute and chronically ill patients, some of whom suffered
from psychosomatic afflictions, he determined to combine his
knowledge of chemistry and medicine and pursue a career in
psychiatric research.

Psychiatry was a wide open field. Mental institutions were more akin
to prisons than hospitals, lobotomies were standard modes of
treatment and tranquillizing drugs were not yet generally available.
Dr. Hoffer and his wife spent January and February, 1951, touring
research centres in Canada and the U.S., absorbing new techniques
including the experimental use of hallucinogens, such as mescaline,
in treating schizophrenia.

That July, he moved his family, which by now had expanded to include
three children, to Regina where he was a resident in the psychiatric
wing of Regina's General Hospital, a consultant in biochemistry to
the hospital's pathology department and director of psychiatric
research for the Department of Public Health. Although he was crazily
busy, he also made $15,000 in combined salaries from his three jobs,
which was a huge amount and considerably more than the premier of the
province earned annually.

Humphrey Osmond, the British trained psychiatrist, who had
experimented in England with mescaline on healthy volunteers and
discovered the effects were similar to schizophrenic delusions,
arrived that fall as clinical director of the mental hospital in
Weyburn. The hospital had about 5,000 patients, half of whom were
schizophrenics.

Working together with English researcher John Smythies, the clinical
trio theorized that there is an abnormal production of adrenochrome,
a derivative of adrenalin, in schizophrenics and it is this excess
which triggers the disease, rather like self-intoxication by the
body's unwitting production of hallucinogenic compounds.

According to their research, patients who were given niacin had
double the recovery rate over a two year period. They also tried
hallucinogens on diehard alcoholics with encouraging results on the
assumption that LSD could cause symptoms similar to delirium tremens
and thereby scare or shock alcoholics into sobriety.

Although the medical community, which was largely committed to the
"talking cure," remained largely unconvinced of the beneficial
effects of a vitamin regimen or hallucinogenic drugs, the researchers
did persuade Nobel Laureate Linus Pauling to embrace their cause. Dr.
Pauling came up with the term, orthomolecular psychiatry, to describe
this diagnostic approach and megavitamin treatment plan.

Frustrated by what he saw as the collusion between the pharmaceutical
industry and the medical establishment to push tranquillizers on
patients, Dr. Hoffer resigned his official positions at the
University of Saskatchewan and the Department of Public Health and
went into private practice in the middle 1960s. He became active in
the Canadian Schizophrenic Foundation and founded the Journal of
Orthomolecular Medicine.

After nearly a decade in private practice, the Hoffers moved to the
West Coast in 1976, settling in Victoria, which appealed to them
because of its temperate climate and its lack of a medical school.
Dr. Hoffer was 59. "I was by now all too familiar with the town and
gown antagonisms in cities inhabited by professors from the medical
schools and I wanted to avoid them," he wrote in Adventures in Psychiatry .

In 1996, he felt coerced into retirement when a joint decision by the
B.C. government and the B.C. Medical Association revoked billing
numbers for doctors when they turned 75. Dr. Hoffer, then 79,
protested that he was nowhere near ready to retire. He wanted to keep
on seeing patients and to be able to bill the health system for his
medical services and so he applied for an exemption on Jan 2, 1997.
Eventually his appeal went to the B.C. Supreme Court, which ruled, in
July, 1999, against mandatory retirement for doctors who passed
competency tests. He finally retired from his private psychiatric
practice in 2004, although he continued to provide nutritional
consultations through his Orthomolecular Vitamin Information Centre
in Victoria.

Dr. Hoffer leaves his son John, his daughter Miriam and his extended family.

.

A story worth telling [Cesar Chavez]

A story worth telling

http://lfpress.ca/newsstand/Today/Entertainment/2009/06/22/9883866-sun.html

REVIEW: The Stories of Cesar Chavez ensure the labour leader remains
larger than life

Mon, June 22, 2009
By KATHY RUMLESKI, FREE PRESS REPORTER

Fred Blanco is making Cesar Chavez a hero.

The California actor has opened up the labour leader and civil rights
activist's story to a whole new audience.

For the first time at the London Fringe, Blanco is bringing his
one-man play, The Stories of Cesar Chavez, to an audience outside of the U.S.

It's a story worth telling and that anyone can appreciate.

Chavez, the founder of the United Farm Workers, believed in the
equality of all men and women, whether a migrant farm worker or a
wealthy rancher.

Chavez was also a storyteller. He gave his lessons through his tales
and now Blanco keeps those stories alive.

Weaving young and old, brown and white, male and female characters
into his show, the narrative is colourfully unfolded before an
engaged audience.

Blanco shows us the young Chavez, picking oranges and apricots.

Despite their humble place, Chavez and his boyhood friends "would
dream and we would hope."

As a young man, he stood up for justice in the movie theatres of the
1940s, refusing to move from the white section.

Then we see him as a passionate speaker, a caring leader and a dying
hunger striker.

Blanco's other characters leave just as much of an impression.

From the stereotypical teamster with the tough talk and the
sunglasses to the bent over, self-deprecating "hag" with the aching
joints, Blanco moves through his piece seamlessly, interspersing
Spanish and English.

While the little Mexican Americans were told to speak English in
school and rapped on their knuckles if they didn't, Blanco proudly
speaks Spanish and we all understand.

There are times he stays with a character for too long. With a bit of
tinkering and tightening, he won't lose his audience for even a moment.

Blanco takes us on a pilgrimage with the sacrificial Chavez and we
want to follow.

Chavez -- who offered himself up for the workers and their families,
literally and figuratively, and the sacrifice is symbolized in the
offering to the Virgen de Guadalupe -- is a figure larger than life.

The Stories of Cesar Chavez are making sure he remains that way.

---

TODAY'S SCHEDULE

Spriet

5 p.m -- Naughty Little Children

8 p.m. -- I Only See Shadows

9:30 p.m. -- Trashcan Duet

The Arts Project

5:30 p.m. -- Voices from the Garden

7:30 p.m. -- Preparation Hex

9 p.m. -- So Many Boo-Boos

10:15 p.m. -- TransCanada 69

Wolf Performance Hall

6:30 p.m. -- Spilt Milk

8 p.m. -- Magical Mystery Tour

9:30 p.m. -- The Impresario

McManus Studio Theatre

5:30 p.m. -- The C*ck Whisperer

7 p.m. -- Being at Home With Claude

8:30 p.m. -- The Barker's Spiel

10 p.m. -- Never Swim Alone

Fanshawe College Theatre

8 p.m. -- Giving Into Light

9:30 p.m. -- The Magician Reverend Nuge

The Lounge

7 p.m. -- Antoine Feval

9 p.m -- He Ain't Heavy

The Black Shire

9:15 p.m. -- Spitfire
--

IF YOU GO

What: The Stories of Cesar Chavez
Where: The Arts Project
Next: Wednesday, 8 p.m.
Rating: 41/2 (out of five)
Fringe Benefit: Campesino and Patroncito theatre show for the workers

.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

American Radical: The Life and Times of I.F. Stone

"American Radical: The Life and Times of I.F. Stone"

http://www.democracynow.org/2009/6/18/american_radical_the_life_and_times

June 18, 2009

Twenty years ago today, I.F. Stone died at the age of eighty-one. He
was the premier investigative reporter of the twentieth century, a
self-described radical journalist. I.F. Stone's legacy of work
spanned the New Deal, World War II, McCarthyism, the Cold War,
Israel/Palestine, the civil rights movement, the Vietnam War and
beyond. He scooped reporters right and left. As the FBI tracked him,
he tracked down the story. He is best remembered for his
self-published I.F. Stone's Weekly. At its peak in the 1960s, the
one-man publication had a circulation of about 70,000. We speak to
his biographer, D.D. Guttenplan, and air historic recordings of I.F.
Stone at the 1965 Vietnam teach-in in Berkeley, CA, and on The
MacNeil/Lehrer NewsHour.
--

D.D. Guttenplan, London correspondent for The Nation magazine and the
author of a new biography of Stone called American Radical: The Life
and Times of I.F. Stone.

I.F. Stone, interviewed on Robert MacNeil on The MacNeil/Lehrer
NewsHour on March 22, 1988, shortly after the publication of his book
The Trial of Socrates that examined one of the most famous historical
events of Ancient Greece.

I.F. Stone, speaking in 1965 at the University of California at
Berkeley Vietnam teach-in. (From the Pacifica Radio Archives)
--

AMY GOODMAN: Twenty years ago today, I.F. Stone died at the age of
eighty-one. He was the premier investigative reporter of the
twentieth century, a self-described radical journalist.

Born Isidor Feinstein in Philadelphia in 1907, but known to everyone
as Izzy, I.F. Stone's legacy of work spanned the New Deal, World War
II, McCarthyism, the Cold War, the civil rights movement, the Vietnam
War, Israel-Palestine and beyond. He scooped reporters right and
left. As the FBI tracked him, he tracked down the story.

This is how the late ABC news anchor, Peter Jennings, paid tribute to
I.F. Stone on his evening newscast the day after his death, June 18th, 1989.

PETER JENNINGS: Finally, this evening, a brief word about the
journalist and author I.F. Stone. He had a truly profound effect on
the practice of journalism in America. He was eighty-one when he died
yesterday. And from the time he first began to write in the 1920s, he
generally found something useful to say.

He always succeeded in prompting other people to think. Sometimes
they agreed, sometimes they were outraged, but there was no avoiding
a connection with Stone's intellect and passion. For many people,
it's a rich experience to read or re-read Stone's views on America's
place in the world, on freedom, on the way government works­and
sometimes corrupts.

Very briefly, and in no small measure, to remind ourselves, an
observation by Stone on what he thought journalism was all about: in
his words, "to write the truth, to defend the weak against the
strong, to fight for justice, to bring healing perspectives to bear
on the terrible hates and fears of mankind in the hope of someday
bringing about a world in which men will enjoy the differences of the
human garden, instead of killing each other over them. If you look,
you'll find much more."

AMY GOODMAN: Peter Jennings remembering I.F. Stone the day after his death.

For more than sixty years, Izzy Stone pioneered his own distinctive
brand of journalism, a unique combination of muckraking and
scholarship. He often pored over pages and pages of government
documents and records looking for facts or inconsistencies that others missed

He is best remembered for his self-published I.F. Stone's Weekly. At
its peak in the '60s, the one-man publication had a circulation of
about 70,000 and ranks in the greatest hits of twentieth century journalism.

Today we spend the hour looking at the life and times of I.F. Stone.
I recently interviewed D.D. Guttenplan, the London correspondent for
The Nation magazine, the author of a new biography of Stone called
American Radical: The Life and Times of I.F. Stone. I began by asking
him to start where he begins his book.

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: I start on a morning in December 1949, when I.F.
Stone is on Meet the Press. Now, people may not remember that Meet
the Press was originally a radio program before it became a TV
program. And when Meet the Press started in the mid-'40s, I.F. Stone
was one of the regular panelists on the radio program. He was also
one of the regular panelists on the TV program.

At that time, Stone was a columnist. He had been a columnist for PM,
the left-wing New York daily tabloid that didn't accept any
advertising and changed the way newspapers looked. He was also
Washington correspondent for The Nation. So he was a very well-known
journalist, the sort of person you would expect to see on one of
today's Sunday chat shows.

And they liked him on Meet the Press, the original producer of Meet
the Press told me, because he was a good needler. He was very good at
getting under the skin of sort of pompous guests.

And on this particular morning, the person he was battling with was a
guy called Dr. Morris Fishbein. Now, in the '40s, Morris Fishbein was
the most famous doctor in America. He was the editor of The Journal
of the American Medical Association, and he was the person that the
medical and pharmaceutical industries put up to oppose socialized
medicine, or national health or a national health insurance. He was
the person who coined the phrase "socialized medicine" as a means of
discrediting national health insurance.

Fishbein had described the proposals for national health insurance as
a step on the road to communism. And so, Stone said to him, "Dr.
Fishbein, given that President Truman has already spoken out in favor
of national health insurance, do you think that that makes him a
dangerous communist or just a deluded fellow traveler?" You know, and
it's familiar, isn't it? And­

AMY GOODMAN: But explain that. Explain where President Truman stood.

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: Well, President Truman had been, although in many
ways very­he had moved the country to the right on foreign policy,
took a very tough line to the Soviet Union, as opposed to Franklin
Roosevelt, who had been much cooperative and conciliatory. But he
came to office with labor union support. He came to office with
working-class support. And he was very much someone who was in favor
of controlling healthcare costs. He had seen what a generation of
Americans had done and what government had done for them during the
Depression. And so­and also, he had been the chair­this is one of
the­he had been the chair of the special Senate committee, before he
became vice president, on military production, on defense industries.

And I.F. Stone had written a series of scoops in PM exposing the way
that­for example, the aircraft industry. The aircraft industry, at
the beginning of the first­of the Second World War, was producing
about 500 planes a year. And President Roosevelt said that in order
to defeat Hitler, they need to produce 500 planes a day. And
basically, Stone pointed out that the aircraft industry had this huge
backlog. It didn't suit them to expand production. They wanted to
keep things the way they were. They had a monopoly, just like
pharmaceutical companies might have today. So Truman knew that some
things are too important to be left to private enterprise, and he
felt that healthcare was one of them.

But what's interesting about this argument that Stone was having with
Fishbein is two things: first, that that was the last time I.F. Stone
was ever on Meet the Press, and secondly, that he wasn't again
allowed to be on national television for eighteen years. He became a
kind of disappeared person in the midst of the McCarthy era.

AMY GOODMAN: Eighteen years?

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: Eighteen years he was not on national television again.

AMY GOODMAN: Red-baited?

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: Red-baited, but also blacklisted. Very much
blacklisted. I mean, he was an identified unabashed public radical at
a time when the whole mainstream political discourse was shifting to
the right. PM had been a very important but not usually profitable
newspaper, but it had lasted eight years. By the time he was on this
program, he was on one of its successors, which soon went out of
business. And after that, he couldn't get a job.

AMY GOODMAN: And when you talk about PM changing the face of
newspapers, a non-commercial newspaper, you know, today newspapers
are being shuttered around the country, and there's a big discussion
about nonprofit media­

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: Right.

AMY GOODMAN: ­you know, what we in public radio and television have
been doing for decades. But what about that, PM being non-commercial,
didn't have advertisements?

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: Well, it wasn't non-profit. In fact, the guy who
founded it, Ralph Ingersoll, said, "If we're any good, we should all
become rich," because he was­he had worked at The New Yorker, he had
worked at LIFE magazine, he had worked at Time, Incorporated. He was
not a radical, Ralph Ingersoll. But he thought that advertising
corrupted journalism, and he wanted journalists to be able to say and
report the truth as they saw it. And he felt that people would be
willing to pay for that.

And he was right, up to a point. The problem is that the point he was
right up to wasn't sufficient to make a profit in a newspaper in New
York City, where the other papers were denying him access to the
Associated Press, where the Daily News was getting PM thrown off the
newsstands. So it was very­it was a very tough environment. And
although PM had a regular readership of about 180,000, it wasn't
enough to keep it going forever, and eventually it went out of business.

But I want to say something else, just shift for a second, which is
that the important point about Stone's disappearance from Meet the
Press isn't so much for the man; it's that the debate on national
healthcare hasn't moved in sixty years. And in a way, that's why I
open my book with this story, because it shows what happens to our
politics and our national conversations when we shut out and suppress
the radical voices, that, you know, because these voices were
silenced, the conversation on national healthcare­we are less far
now­President Obama's proposals are a less radical than President
Truman's proposals were sixty years ago.

AMY GOODMAN: The issue of corporate control of the media, the issue
of who is allowed to speak and who isn't, well, ultimately led I.F.
Stone to start his own weekly. First, give us a little more
background on who I.F. Stone was. Let's back up.

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: Sure.

AMY GOODMAN: And then talk about how he founded this newspaper that
would change America.

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: Well, he was born in 1907 in Philadelphia to Russian
immigrant parents. His father had walked across Europe to England and
then taken a boat to basically escape the czar's army. He grew up,
though, in Haddonfield, New Jersey, rather than Philadelphia. He
lived part of his early childhood in Indiana. And I think these are
significant, because it meant he felt very connected to America. He
was not someone who grew up, as my father did, on the streets of the
Bronx. He was not someone who many New York intellectuals­like many
New York intellectuals who cut their political teeth in the city
college cafeteria, you know, where Trotskyists hated Stalinists and
where anarchists, you know, derided socialists. As Stone said, "I
grew up in a small town. And in a small town, everybody on the left
has to get along. You all know each other, and you have to get along,
because you're so outnumbered." And so, in a way, that shaped his
politics very much.

He went to the University of Pennsylvania and dropped out in his
junior year, because he basically preferred, as he said, the smell of
the newsroom to the smell of the faculty club. He went to work for
eventually the Philadelphia Record, which was owned by J. David
Stern, a kind of muckraking, crusading newspaper owner, who also
eventually bought the New York Post. But Stone actually quit working
for the Philadelphia Record in 1927, because he wanted to cover the
execution of Sacco and Vanzetti, and his boss wouldn't let him. So he
walked off the job out of the newsroom and hitchhiked up to Boston.

AMY GOODMAN: Back up for a minute. Sacco and Vanzetti.

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: OK. Sacco and Vanzetti, two anarchists who were
accused and tried and convicted of a payroll robbery in Massachusetts
in, I think, 1924. And eventually, they were executed. And Felix
Frankfurter, who at that time was a Harvard law professor, basically
led the fight to reverse the convictions or to at least get them
clemency. A. Lawrence Lowell, who was the president of Harvard at the
time, chaired a commission, which was supposed to look into the trial
and look into the verdict, and essentially let them die.

And there was a generation of Americans who were, if you like,
radicalized by the Russian Revolution. There was a generation of
Americans who were radicalized by the Great Depression. Stone was in
the middle. And for him and for a whole slice of people like him,
Sacco and Vanzetti was the seminal event of their youth. It was, for
them, the revelation that the establishment will commit murder to
stay in power.

AMY GOODMAN: So he walks off the job.

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: So he walks off the job. He goes up, eventually
comes back. He gets another job. He goes back to work for Stern
later, because he was very good. He becomes an editorial writer for
the Philadelphia Record.

And then, when [Stern] buys the New York Post, which he does partly
as a political move­he buys the Post because Stern is very connected
to the Democratic Party, and New York City does not have a pro-New
Deal newspaper. Franklin Roosevelt has just been elected. So he buys
the Post essentially to give the New Deal a voice and a cheering
section in New York City. And the day he buys the paper, Stone turns
up in New York, and he says, "I'm your chief editorial writer." And
he becomes, at the age of twenty-five, the chief editorial writer for
the New York Post, able to write whatever he likes. And essentially
he becomes­

AMY GOODMAN: Just like the New York Post today.

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: Just like the New York Post today, exactly.
Left-wing, liberal, crusading, always on the side of the worker, absolutely.

AMY GOODMAN: Rupert Murdoch, its greatest cheerleader, right.

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: Exactly.

AMY GOODMAN: So what happened? Why did he start his own newspaper,
his own magazine?

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: Well, it's interesting. In the '30s, Stone was a
very­he was left-wing, but he was a very conventional, ambitious,
successful, enterprising, favor-trading journalist, not unlike lots
of people who work in mainstream media today and maybe even some
people who work in alternative media today.

AMY GOODMAN: Favor-trading?

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: Yes. He wrote speeches for the President but was
never acknowledged.

AMY GOODMAN: For Roosevelt.

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: For Roosevelt. Tommy Corcoran, who was Roosevelt's
political lieutenant and his fixer in the White House, recruited
Stone to write a book attacking the Supreme Court when the Supreme
Court was overturning all of the New Deal legislation in the
mid-'30s. Felix Frankfurter put up the money for that book, which
Stone­he took, he accepted, accepted expense money from Frankfurter,
took a leave from his job, and wrote a book called The Court
Disposes, which was attacking the Supreme Court.

He was not in favor of packing the Court. He listed four things you
could do about the Court's opposition to progressive legislation, and
packing the Court was his last and least favorite alternative. But in
a way, he was part of the similar effort, which was to say, we've
passed this legislation to deal with the economic crisis, Congress
has passed it, the President was elected to do it, but the Court
won't let him do it, because the Court kept on protecting capital.

So­and Stone's father, who had the dry goods store in New Jersey that
he grew up over, the store went out of business in the Depression. He
lost all his money, he needed a job. Stone used his contacts in the
White House to get his father a job at the US Mint.

So we're not talking about somebody who's a saint. We're talking
about a human being who's trying to get things done, but who is like
other human beings and, you know, uses various things, levers that he
has within his reach.

Eventually, he parts company with Stern, I think mainly over the
Spanish Civil War, because the New York Post was the only paper in
New York that supported the Republican government in Spain that
opposed Franco. And that mattered because there was a
strong­unlike­the Nazis didn't have a big cheering section in New
York City. Mussolini had certain elements of the Italian American
community. But basically, fascism was not usually popular in the
United States. But in Spain, Franco had the Catholic Church on his
side. And so, Stern's papers, which were supporting the Republican
government, were boycotted. The Tablet, the Catholic Church paper in
New York in Brooklyn, advocated a boycott of the New York Post in
those days. So it cost him a huge amount. And although he kept his
position for many years, eventually Stern gave in, changed his mind,
published an apology to the Church, stopped speaking up about Spain.
And over that and various other causes, he and Stone fell out. He
fired Stone, and Stone went then to work full time for The Nation and
eventually PM.

AMY GOODMAN: D.D. Guttenplan, author of American Radical: The Life
and Times of I.F. Stone. When we come back, how the FBI's J. Edgar
Hoover tracked his every move. We'll be back in a minute.

[break]

AMY GOODMAN: We return to my interview with D.D. Guttenplan, author
of American Radical: The Life and Times of I.F. Stone, talking about
the political landscape in the early part of Izzy Stone's career.

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: In the '30s and the '40s, Stone's politics were
mainstream. There was a mainstream influential left. The idea was
that things like national healthcare, unemployment insurance, Social
Security, these were all left proposals, radical proposals, that
became­except for national healthcare, became law. And so, there was
a sense of a broad coalition, what I, in my book, and most historians
call the Popular Front, which stretched from wherever you draw the
line on the left, but it certainly included the Communist Party, the
Socialist Party, anarchists, libertarians, to liberals, to sort of
liberal-leaning Republicans. It was a very broad coalition, and it
got a lot of things done. It was the mainstream. It was, in a way,
the conventional wisdom of the day.

But after Roosevelt died, that changed. And Truman turned to a more
kind of crony, patronage Democratic politics, which­first of all,
Stone, although he had known Truman and Truman had been a good source
for him as a reporter, he was appalled by that, because he really
believed in Roosevelt and the New Deal, and he felt that Truman was
not carrying out the New Deal.

But secondly, and in a way just as important, this sense of
cooperation, of sort of the essential­that you had to have radicals
as part of your coalition in order to get things done and that
radicals and liberals could work together, this sense of domestic
cooperation was mirrored in the way that the United States and the
Soviet Union had combined to defeat Hitler during the war. And so,
when Truman and Stalin ceased to cooperate­and, you know, I think
Stone thought that there was plenty of fault on both sides in that
ending of cooperation, but he felt, in a way, that the Soviet Union
had just lost 20 million people in this war and that Stalin, in a
way, had reasons to be paranoid and reasons to fear encirclement and
things like that. So I suppose he pressed harder on the United States
than he did on the Soviet Union.

AMY GOODMAN: Talk about nuclear testing, Don Guttenplan.

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: OK. Well, when Stone had no place else to work, he
started his own newspaper, I.F. Stone's Weekly. He started it in
1953. He had 4,000 subscribers at first. When it ended in 1971, he
had 70,000 subscribers.

And this is the story of his favorite scoop, and it's also a good
example of the way he worked.

In the '50s, there was a pressure­there was a campaign, a kind of
peace movement, for a nuclear test ban treaty. And the government was
sort of­Eisenhower was not necessarily opposed to this, but Edward
Teller, who was the father of the H-bomb, he was very much opposed to this.

So, the Soviets came out with a proposal. They said, "We will allow
you to have monitoring stations inside the Soviet Union every
thousand kilometers," about every 600 miles, "so that if we test,
you'll be able to pick it up, and that will give you the security to
know that we'll abide by the treaty," because the opponents to the
treaty said, "Well, you can't trust the Russians," and Eisenhower
said, "Well, we don't have to trust them if we can monitor them."
Harold Stassen was Eisenhower's negotiator. And he came back with
this proposal.

Within a month, Teller had arranged an underground nuclear test in
the US. And the political point of the underground test was to say,
"It doesn't matter if we sign the treaty with the Russians. They'll
cheat. They'll test underground. And we won't be able to detect
them." So the government, the Atomic Energy Commission, put out a
story saying that the test could only be detected from 200 miles away.

And Stone read this story in the New York Times, his morning paper,
but he noticed a shirttail to the story, a little item at the end,
saying that it had been picked up in Italy. And he went out and got a
later edition of the Times, the late city edition, and he noticed
that there was a­it said that they had detected the test in Tokyo. So
Stone thought, "That's interesting," and he kind of filed it in
his­he had this incredible basement file of stories. He'd rip them
out of newspapers. He filed it and put it away. He said, "I wish I
had the money to go and run this down," but he was putting out this
four-page newspaper all by himself every week, so he didn't.

A few months later, Stassen comes back with a really solid proposal
for listening stations, and Teller says, "It won't work. The Russians
will cheat." And the Atomic Energy Commission issues an official
report saying that tests can only be detected 200 miles. But the
official­they issued the report under embargo, meaning reporters get
it before it's disseminated to the public.

So Stone goes out to his file. He finds this clip. And he calls up­he
said, "I realized I needed a seismologist." So he calls up the
Coastal and Geodetic Survey department of the government, and he
said, "What about these Italian and Japanese detections of this test?
What do you think about that?" And they said, "Well, we don't really
believe those. We don't trust their instruments. But we have
listening stations in Fairbanks, Alaska, and they picked up the test.
And we have listening stations, you know, all the way up in Nova
Scotia, and they picked up the test, and they're 1,700 miles away­or
2,500 miles away." And he said, "Oh, really? Can I come down and get
a list of stations that­you know, government stations that detected
the test?" So he gets in his car, and he drives over to the Coastal
Geodetic Survey. And he always says they were thrilled to see him,
because they hadn't seen a reporter down there since the ark landed
in Ararat and sent a tremor. And they gave him this list.

And he basically forced the government to admit that they had been
mistaken­of course, they never said they lied­that they had been
mistaken in claiming 200 miles and that, in fact, listening stations
every 600 miles could pick up a test, and that, in fact, our own
government listening stations had picked up this underground test
from thousands of miles away.

AMY GOODMAN: And what was the fallout of this exposé?

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: Well, the fallout­

AMY GOODMAN: So to speak.

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: ­so to speak, was that it meant that the
negotiations continued, and eventually a limited nuclear test ban­it
took until the Kennedy administration, but it was a limited nuclear
test ban treaty signed, banning all tests, as we know, except
underground tests.

AMY GOODMAN: Don Guttenplan, talk about FBI surveillance of I.F. Stone.

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: Well, the interesting thing about the Weekly is that
it's the only radical newspaper that I can think of that was founded
under the eye of daily FBI surveillance, that what happened is the
FBI picked up Stone's name in some decoded Russian cables from the
1940s that they finally decoded in the '50s. And because of that­and
the truth of why the FBI started watching Stone wasn't known. When
Stone died, and I put in a Freedom of Information request, I was told
that they had 6,000 pages of file on Stone, which is about three
times as much as they had on Al Capone. So you have to figure there
was­the FBI was up to something. But I put in my request in 1990.
They didn't release the truth about these Venona, as they're called,
these Venona decrypts until 1996, and it wasn't clear that that's
what had started the surveillance of Stone until almost 2000. So,
it's one of the reasons that my book took a long time to write, is
that the FBI was very slow in releasing material. And until I got it,
I couldn't find out what was going on.

Anyway, they thought that Stone was a Russian spy. And so, Hoover
ordered daily surveillance. Stone was followed. He was followed to
Grand Central Station. He was followed to bookstores. We get the
names of every Jewish delicatessen in Washington, because they would
follow Stone as he went to buy his corned beef sandwiches to take
out. We get the names of what were in those days the best Chinese
restaurants in Washington, because Stone liked Chinese food. They
followed him to driving lessons with his son.

But interestingly, I spoke to Stone's son, and he said, "Well, it's
not like the FBI was following my father." I mean, the Stone family
had no idea about this surveillance, which is in contrast to, for
example, when they were following Carl Bernstein the Watergate
reporter's family around. They made a point of being noticeable,
because they wanted to intimidate them.

In Stone's case, Hoover was a little afraid of him. There are
instances in Stone's file of the FBI saying, "Well, we're on this
other investigation, and the only person who could really tell us
what this is about is I.F. Stone. Can we contact him?" And Hoover
wrote in his handwritten notes, "Absolutely under no circumstances.
He is not to be contacted." When they were doing surveillance
instructions and he was still, at that point, working for a New York
newspaper, they said, "It's difficult to surveil him at the
newspaper, because they have plate-glass windows and he might see us.
And if he sees us, he'll expose us in the newspaper."

So they had to be careful about it, but they followed him every day.
They read his mail. They rifled his garbage. They bugged his phones.
And after almost two years of this­and those were exactly the two
years during which I.F. Stone's Weekly was starting, so Stone was
writing fundraising letters, he was trying to get support. They were
opening his mail, so they knew who all of the Weekly subscribers
were. Eventually, Hoover said, "Well, we found no evidence, not one
item of evidence, to indicate that this man is anything other than he
appears, and we're ending the investigation."

AMY GOODMAN: And the right's fixation today on I.F. Stone as a Russian spy?

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: Well, I think the right's fixation today is
fascinating, because he's more attacked now than he was when he died.
When he died, his death was on every newscast. You know, Peter
Jennings gave a minute-and-a-half eulogy the day he died on ABC News.
Now, the right, basically they want to discredit him.

AMY GOODMAN: The date of his death?

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: The day of June 18th, which is­so it's almost twenty
years, June 18th, 1989.

I think the reason is because it's easy for the right, if everyone on
the left is either under the influence of a foreign power or a slave
to some kind of ideology that they can discredit. And the thing about
Stone is that it's not that he didn't have an ideology. He had an
ideology. He was a socialist all his life, it was very clear. But he
was independent. He was an independent radical. He always said he was
a Jeffersonian Marxist, and he believed that Jefferson and the free
press was just as important as Marx.

AMY GOODMAN: Explain, a Jeffersonian Marxist.

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: Well, Jefferson said, "If I had the choice between a
government without newspapers or newspapers without a government, I'd
much rather have newspapers without a government," that he believed
that you needed to have independent scrutiny of power and that the
press­in those days, there wasn't media; it was just the press­but
the press was the only thing that could supply that.

And Stone believed that all his life, so that whenever he would go to
eastern European countries, he would always report on the presence or
absence of a free press, usually the absence of a free press, and he
would always say that no matter what you might hear in radical
circles in the US, this country is not free until it has a free
press, these countries won't be free until they have a free press.

But he was also a Marxist in his view of, you know, economic
relations, how power works, how economic power influenced politics. So­

AMY GOODMAN: And what does that mean? How would he look, do you
believe, at what has happened today with the economic global meltdown?

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: Well, I think he would not be surprised by the
extent to which, you know, during the last eight years corporations
essentially called the tune and were allowed to do whatever they
liked. But again, it kind of goes back to the anecdote about Meet the
Press, because even before George W. Bush was president, in the
Clinton years, you had a consensus which excluded radical voices. So,
you know, you had a kind of consensus which was to the left of the
Bush consensus, but it was a consensus where­which was very rigidly
policed. And, you know, you were­certain kinds of liberal voices were
OK, but radical voices were excluded, marginalized, silenced. And I
think, in a way, that's an explanation or part of the explanation for
the kind of political stillbirth of Clinton's more progressive
programs, is that they tried to do them without ever having a
movement or being connected to a movement and, indeed, by trying to
silence the movement that might have brought these things to pass.

AMY GOODMAN: I.F. Stone famously said, "All governments lie."

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: Yes, but he also said the truth slips out, because
they lie, but they put out so much information that they can't always
hide things.

I want to talk about Vietnam for just a second, because, in a way,
the most important issue of I.F. Stone's Weekly was in 1965 after the
State Department put out a white paper on Vietnam justifying the
American escalation of the war. And they basically painted the Viet
Cong as tools of North Vietnam who were, in turn, tools of Moscow and
China, so that the whole war could have been stopped, in the view of
the Johnson administration, which later became the view of the Nixon
administration, if you put sufficient pressure on Moscow and China.

And what Stone showed was­he basically went to the appendix. He
always said you should read a government document from the back,
because that's where they put the stuff they don't want you to
notice, which they have to include, but they don't want you to notice
it. So at the back of the State Department white paper was a report
on weapons captured by the US forces in Vietnam. And Stone showed­it
was a detailed list­that 95 percent of these weapons were made in the
West, that they were either American or British, and that they had
obviously been captured by the army of­you know, the Vietnamese army
that we were arming, so that, you know, far from being a
Moscow-equipped and­backed force, the Viet Cong were an indigenous
native opposition to the South Vietnamese government and that
their­and their weapons came from the weapons we were giving to the
army that they were defeating.

And this­in a sense, what was important about it is, first of all,
that it exposed the government's big lie about Vietnam, and secondly,
it gave legitimacy and credibility to the opposition, because it came
out of the time when, for example, the Students for a Democratic
Society were trying to decide what was the big issue to organize
around in the United States. And they asked Stone to speak to them.
And that's sort of interesting, because he was a lot older than they
were. And, you know, in general, they didn't have a lot of time for
journalists of his generation. He was the only journalist asked to
speak at the first Vietnam War Moratorium. And he basically said,
"Look, the government is carrying on this war, and there's no peace
movement here." You know, there were stirrings of a peace movement,
but it had been so terrorized by McCarthyism and so marginalized that
he felt that that was the most important cause, and that was what
they should throw themselves into wholeheartedly.

AMY GOODMAN: This is the speech he gave in 1965 at the Berkeley teach-in?

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: Well, this was before. This was a talk he gave to
the national leadership of SDS before there were any teach-ins. I
mean, essentially, he said­because there was some debate. Some people
in SDS thought they should organize around apartheid in South Africa
as the most important issue. Some people wanted to organize around
campus issues. And Stone said these are all important issues, but
Vietnam is happening, there's a war going on, and there's no
organized opposition to it.

AMY GOODMAN: Civil rights movement?

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: The civil rights movement, by '65, was, you know, in
full flower. But Stone was a huge and early supporter of the civil
rights movement. And I think what's interesting about his
relationship to the civil rights movement is that in 1954, before
Rosa Parks, Stone wrote in the Weekly, "The American Negro needs a
Gandhi to lead him, and we need the American Negro to lead us." Stone
consistently thought that America did not deserve the patience of
African Americans, that they were much more patient in getting their
rights than this country deserved.

But he also­and this is very unusual for a white journalist of his
generation, and probably of later generations­he realized that the
civil rights struggle had to be led by blacks, that it could not be
something that white liberals did for blacks. And he realized that
there had to be an indigenous African American movement for that to
happen. And when it happened, he greeted it, supported it, publicized
it immediately.

AMY GOODMAN: And the issue, what many will call a false dichotomy
between advocacy and journalism, his views on this?

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: Well, his views were that you can either be­he said
two things that I think are important. He didn't believe in objective
journalism. He said people who talk about objective journalism are
basically just trying to make you say the same things that everybody
else says to enforce a consensus.

He did say, though, that journalists have a choice to be either
consistent or honest, that if you're worried about what you reported
last week and whether what you're reporting now is consistent with
it, you're going to end up distorting what you say in order to
maintain consistency. So he felt you needed to be prepared to be, and
allow yourself to be, surprised by facts. And it was Stone's
willingness to be surprised by facts that, in a way, makes him such a
good read.

But he certainly believed in and was part of a tradition that is much
older than the tradition of objective journalism, and that's the
muckraking tradition, the tradition that if you tell people the
truth, then they'll be able to take action.

AMY GOODMAN: Finally, Israel-Palestine?

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: Israel-Palestine. Well, Stone went first to
Palestine in 1945. He was in America during the Second World War, but
as soon as the war was over, he went to the DP camps in Europe, for
the displaced persons camps where Holocaust survivors were living,
many of them, in the same places and in pretty similar conditions to
those that they had been under the Nazis. Stone wrote, "We treat them
the same way the Nazis do, except for we give them more coffee." And
he, in 1946, went back and was the first journalist to run the
British blockade to Palestine.

On neither of these trips was Stone either a Zionist or an
anti-Zionist. He was like most American Jews: he was neither. But he
became convinced by what he saw in Europe that the Jews in Europe did
not want to go back to Poland or to Germany, where they'd be­where
they had been, you know, turned in by their neighbors. They wanted to
go to Palestine. And he very much supported their right to go to Palestine.

But he also­when he went to Palestine, he saw something that for some
reason seemed to escape many other American journalists. He saw that
there were already people there. And he wrote in '46, "I never met an
Arab in Palestine who favored a Jewish state, and I never met a Jew
in Palestine who claimed to know an Arab who favored a Jewish state."
So Stone's position, until 1948, was for a bi-national state, Jews
and Palestinians each having a kind of political identity or an
ethnic identity inside a unitary state.

When Israel was born, Stone was in the room. He was there when David
Ben-Gurion signed the Declaration of the State of Israel in May 1948.
He reported Israel's war for independence under fire from the
frontlines. It was his first experience and only experience of, you
know, being a war correspondent, being shot at, being dive-bombed.
And he was incredibly passionate about Israel's survival and remained
passionate about Israel's survival his whole life.

But even in '48, he wrote a book called Underground to Palestine,
which was the story of his odyssey with the refugees. And when he got
back to the US, it was published in '48, and it became a huge sort of
fundraising, you know, propaganda book for the Haganah, which was
trying to raise money for weapons. But American Zionists offered to
finance a huge advertising campaign for the book, they said, "if you
would take out one sentence." And that was the sentence where he said
that there should be a bi-national state and that the Palestinians
needed a state and had just as much right to a state as the Jews did.
He refused to take out the sentence; they refused to spend the money
on the advertising.

He stopped going to Israel in 1950, because the State Department
wouldn't give him a passport. But as soon as he got his passport
back, in part because of a legal victory by his brother-in-law
Leonard Boudin, who forced the State Department to not­who kept the
State Department from taking away your passport for political
reasons, who established the right to travel, Stone got his passport
back and went to Israel again in '56, before the Suez War. And he
wrote two things. He wrote, "Israel is a transformed country. What
was once a struggling country is now a thriving country.
Economically, it's booming. It will win­it's prepared for war and
will win, you know, the next war or the next war after that
militarily." He said, "But there will be wars and wars and wars until
Israel comes to terms with the Palestinians." He wrote in 1956, "The
road to peace lies through the Palestinian refugee camp."

AMY GOODMAN: Don Guttenplan, I want to thank you very much for being with us.

D.D. GUTTENPLAN: Been a pleasure. Thanks for having me.

AMY GOODMAN: D.D. Guttenplan, author of American Radical: The Life
and Times of I.F. Stone. For a copy of today's show, go to
democracynow.org. When we come back, we'll hear I.F. Stone, in his
own words, on war and more. Stay with us.

[break]

AMY GOODMAN: In his seventies and eighties, I.F. Stone turned his
attention to a lifelong fascination, the study of the classics. In
1988, the year before he died, I.F. Stone published his last book,
The Trial of Socrates, that examined one of the most famous
historical events of Ancient Greece. In one of his last major TV
appearances, I.F. Stone was interviewed by Robert MacNeil on The
MacNeil/Lehrer NewsHour. This an excerpt from March 22nd, 1988.

ROBERT MacNEIL: Let me put one of your sentences to you, concerning
its a propos, of its relevance. You say, "Athens was free of the
paranoia that has begun to affect our own society in the era of the
national security state." Elaborate on that a little bit. Why "begun
to affect," when some people would say that the McCarthy era, which
preoccupied you so much in the earlier days of your journalism, is
long past, that if that was a time of paranoia, things are very
different now? Why "begun to affect"?

I.F. STONE: Well, because I don't think it­I think the paranoia
receded. And it's not a new factor in American history. In the wake
of the French Revolution, as you know, under John Adams, at the end
of the eighteenth century, we had the Alien and Sedition Laws and
fear of dangerous ideas coming in from France. And then we had a good
deal of hysteria about the abolitionists before the Civil War and a
good deal of hysteria in the latter part of the nineteenth century
about the anarchists, especially when several presidents were
assassinated. And then, right after the First World War, there was a
lot of excitement about the Russian Revolution. So there have been
these paranoid periods.

Whereas in Athens, the great­the Franklin D. Roosevelt of Athens,
Solon, about two centuries before Socrates, in establishing the
democracy, by which I mean by opening the right to vote to the poor
as well as the well-to-do and the middle class, provided not only
freedom of speech and assembly, but also the right of association, so
that the aristocratic opposition, some of it oligarchic and loyal,
but some of it very disloyal, a very small fringe, pro-Spartan, had
organized these clubs and secret conspiracies that Plato refers­that
Socrates refers to. These were never prosecuted, because there was a
right of association.

And their views are regarded as very good jokes. You know, some years
before the first dictatorship, that of the 400, Aristophanes wrote a
play called The Birds, and he invented a word for this disloyaled
youth. He called them "Socratified." That's a good English
translation, perfect translation, of the Greek word "esokritaun." It
means exactly that: Socratified. And pictured them as long-haired,
dirty, unwashed. The Athenians were very fastidious.

ROBERT MacNEIL: The sort of things people were saying about­the
establishment were saying about kids in the '60s in this country.

I.F. STONE: Yeah, yeah.

ROBERT MacNEIL: Is this a paranoid society now, do you think, this
American society?

I.F. STONE: No, I don't think it's a paranoid society. I think it's
very impressive how we got rid of McCarthyism. We got rid of
McCarthyism in a fascinating way. First of all, the leadership was
taken by conservatives and, in fact, a couple of reactionaries. He
was a crypto-fascist, really. It was done by the Senate, and the
Senate is a club, in a good sense. People's word is a matter of
honor. A lot of the work is done in the cloak room. And McCarthy had
begun to play the same dirty tricks on fellow members of the Senate
that he did on members of the bureaucracy, collecting political
scandal and sexual scandal about homosexuals. So they censured him.
They censured him. They marked him as a bounder, as the English would
say. And it broke his heart. He wasn't sent to jail. He wasn't
deprived of his seat. They just marked him down as a no-good SOB, and
that was it. And it was beautiful. It was not brutal. It was not
dictatorial. They just decided he was no good.

ROBERT MacNEIL: What do you think about the tolerance? I mean, you've
been writing about 2,400 years ago, and the issue was freedom of
speech, free speech. What do you think about the tolerance for free
speech in America today?

I.F. STONE: Well, free speech has always had to battle in every
society and every age, and in fact in every group. Even little
coteries of radicals have their party line, and if you go against it,
well, you find your freedom of speech looked at askance.

But if you look at it objectively, in large terms, we have a
tradition that is more powerful than that of any other Western
society when it comes to freedom of speech. Our Whigs were, unlike
the British Whigs of the seventeenth century, were the children of
the French Enlightenment and not afraid to utter large and
potentially explosive generalities about the equality of man, about
freedom. So the Constitution itself and the Bill of Rights embody the
Enlightenment and the best fruits of the English, American and French
revolution. Whereas in Europe, generally, constitutions are full of
ifs and buts. The Weimar Constitution had emergency clauses, did no
good against Hitler. The Austrian Constitution has a multitude of ifs
and buts. The French, after affirming freedom of speech and press and
assembly in the French Revolution, then backed away a bit, and it's
not quite as sacred.

So I consider an ancient Athens, the 200 years of freedom, one of the
bright spots of human history. And I think the 200 years of the
American republic is comparable as one of the bright­in between,
there's such a wilderness of bigotry, persecution, murder. And talk
about the follies of the common man, look at the follies of the
uncommon man, how many stupid and silly ideas people were burned at
the stake for advancing. So, it's precarious. It's always precarious.
It's always going to have to be fought for. It's the sacred American
ideology, so that those of us who are just satyrs and mavericks can
feel part of the American tradition. This is the Jeffersonian­we're
the representatives of the Jeffersonian idea. And the other side is a
little bit ashamed of it and a little bit on the defensive.

AMY GOODMAN: That was I.F. Stone interviewed by Robin MacNeil on The
MacNeil/Lehrer NewsHour. He died the next year on June 18th, 1989,
twenty years ago today. We want to end today's show by going back to
1965, to Izzy Stone speaking at the University of California,
Berkeley, Vietnam teach-in. This is courtesy of the Pacifica Radio Archives.

I.F. STONE: I cannot understand the fury in the press and among the
respectables against the teach-ins. The State Department has it
almost entirely its own way. The government line dominates the press
and the radio and the TV. Why are they so frantic? When, for a little
while, in a few moments and on a few campuses and a few places, a
voice of dissent is heard, a little bit of debate has begun. Are they
so unsure of themselves? Are they secretly so weak about their own
point of view that they fear to have it exposed to public debate and
public examination? You know, when the State Department holds its
conferences, it never invites the opposition. It never invites a
critic. It doesn't even invite critical newspapermen to private
briefings, for fear they might ask embarrassing questions. The
atmosphere of the State Department is very much like that of the big
government agencies in Moscow. You get the same apparatchik
atmosphere, the same regurgitation by bureaucratic parrots of the
official line. And this is what we have to deal with in our own country.

You know, there's a great deal we don't know about war and about why
men fight. We know a lot about what people have said were the reasons
they were fighting for. But modern psychology has taught us that the
explanations people give for their activities are rarely the truth.
And so it is in this case.

One of the reasons for all the trouble our country is in around the
world, I think, is that we possess so huge a military establishment.
If a country doesn't have soldiers, it takes a slight and makes a
protest, and that's the end of it. But when it has an enormous
military apparatus like ours, the tendency is to try to solve all
kinds of political and economic questions by military means, a
process that's something like trying to repair a watch with a
sledgehammer. And conversely, as long as we have a large military
establishment, it's going to be looking for work to do to maintain
its appropriations, to get its promotions, to prove its usefulness,
and to avoid technological unemployment. And all this miasma about
wars of liberation that is so central to what is happening today in
Vietnam and the Dominican Republic is really a reflection of the
military's desire to find work to do. The "war of liberation"
neurosis is made to order for the military.

AMY GOODMAN: I.F. Stone, investigative journalist extraordinaire,
speaking in 1965 against the Vietnam War. He died on June 18th, 1989,
twenty years ago today. Special thanks to the Pacifica Radio Archives.

.

How to run a protest without Twitter

How to run a protest without Twitter

http://www.globalpost.com/dispatch/worldview/090619/mass-protests-methods

Iranians can learn from leaders of protests ­ from Berlin to Beijing
­ before modern telecommunications.

June 19, 2009

BOSTON ­ This year's web wunderkind, Twitter, has been credited as a
force in organizing protesters in Thailand, Moldova and, now, Iran.

But in Iran, the government has clamped down on the mobile network
and put up Internet firewalls, leaving us to wonder how opposition
leaders are getting the word out ­ which they seem to be doing, as
reports trickle out in spite of government restrictions on the media
that demonstrations continue unabated.

So we talked to past protest leaders to find out how they toppled
governments and grabbed the world's attention before there were
mobile phones or an Internet.

Hungary, 1956 ­ Flyers and word of mouth

Gyuri Lassan, then a 20-year-old construction worker, had seen flyers
around university campuses in Budapest advertising meetings for the
organization of a student revolution to fight the communists prior to
Oct. 23, 1956. That evening, thousands of students met at the
building of the Hungarian National Radio, linked arms and began a
protest against the Communist regime.

During his morning commute the next day, Lassan heard on the radio
that the students had broken into the building. Given the unusual
morning traffic, rumors of an uprising spread quickly through the city.

"The whole of Pest knew what was going on," Lassan said. "People were
talking to each other on the street, the executives were coming down
out of the office buildings."

Before the march on the radio station that evening, students had
organized secretly for weeks. Many at the universities had illegally
used old printing presses to produce flyers and old radio equipment
to send messages in Morse code to other groups meeting to organize
and finalize their plans to march on the radio station.

Jozsef Erdelyi was only 8 years old at the time of the revolution,
but his 17-year-old brother had heard broadcasts from the Communist
leaders on the radio telling people to go home or risk arrest.

"The more the radio told people to go home, the more came out onto
the streets," Erdelyi said. The streets were full of yells and chants
urging citizens to march on the radio station and resist the AVO, the
Communist police force.

"I went alone to the radio station," Lassan said. "I met people on
the way and we couldn't believe this ridiculous situation. There were
police and AVO men everywhere, but we thought we were really doing
something … that we could overcome them."

United States, 1960s ­ Face-to-face and mimeograph machines

Students for a Democratic Society built its nationwide antiwar
movement in the 1960s "primarily face to face," said Michael Ansara,
who served as New England coordinator for the group while studying at
Harvard. "This is not only before Twitter, this is before computers,"
cell phones and fax machines, he said. "This was like the Dark Ages."

"It was all printed word, and word of mouth and sometimes phone
trees," Ansara said. With the latter method, "You could reach a
couple thousand people quickly."

Ansara also described the group's use of hand-operated mimeograph
machines, provided by campus ministries or sympathetic professors,
when information needed to be disseminated at night. After printing
leaflets one by one, students would fan out across dormitories,
dropping them under each door.

Intercampus SDS coordination depended on personal relationships,
Ansara said. He maintained contact with coordinators for every New
England campus, who in turn organized the efforts of activists at
their respective schools. The group's structure was not unlike that
of an urban political machine, he said.

In Iran, Ansara believes that the Internet and cell phones allow for
a faster, less centralized movement, but "if Twitter's gone, they'll
find another way to communicate, even if it's going up to the
rooftop" and shouting. While the technology of dissent may evolve, he
said, "fundamentally this is all the same process, which is
self-organization plus inspired leadership."

United States, 1960s ­ The latest technology: pay phones and TV

Once-pioneering technologies like pay phones and television were used
by the Freedom Riders in much the same way contemporary protesters
use Twitter and Facebook.

Paul Breines, a former Freedom Rider who rode buses through the south
to combat racial inequality in America's public transportation
system, cited pay phones and television as key components of
mobilization and coordination.

Pay phones, which are a rare sight now that mobile phones
proliferate, helped keep the Freedom Riders informed and connected.
Breines said, "pay phones were widely in use, especially because the
home phones of leading activists and probably most 'movement' offices
were eventually tapped, either by the FBI or by local security or
police agencies."

Television, which was the landmark technology of the1960s, spread
word of the movement to the rest of American society. "Precisely in
the early 1960s, television was starting to play a big role in
everything. To get things out to the larger 'outside world' the
movements were pretty much dependent on television coverage," Breines said.

Breines said not having the internet did not put the Freedom Riders
at a disadvantage. "Those of us in all of the protest movements had
no idea that we didn't have the internet, Twitter, cell phones, and
so on; no idea that we were pre-modern," he said.

East Timor, 1970s-1980s ­ The 100 lbs. tweet

Another challenge for popular uprisings before ubiquitous digital
communications was getting the message to the outside world. Rebels
in East Timor were masters at this in the years following the 1975
Indonesian invasion.

East Timor's cause was the longest of long shots. A small, poor and
remote dot on the Indonesian archipelago, it was struggling for
independence from Jakarta's rule. It was surrounded on all sides by
its foe, or by ocean. Cold War administrations in Washington opposed
its cause and equipped Indonesia with fighter jets to keep the
territory from turning communist.

But the Timorese knew how to use adversity to their advantage.
Indonesian troops committed all manners of atrocities, strafing
villages and starving the local population. In an interview several
years ago, then-President Xanana Gusmao said the country owes its
independence in no small part to its ability to get the news of these
atrocities out.

But it was by no means as easy as sending a tweet.

Instead, the rebels lugged a 100-pound radio transmitter. For years,
there was massive soldier who carried it on his back through the
rugged trails, Gusmao recalled. When they reached a point high
enough, they would transmit the latest developments, and then quickly
flee before the Indonesians tracked them down. Their audience was a
small group of Australian supporters, who set up a large antenna in
the outback to receive the faint, crackly signal. (Theirs, too, was a
dangerous game, as the Australian government regarded the group as
communist supporters.) The message would then be encoded and sent by
mail or phone to East Timor's expat supporters in the West ­ gifted
diplomats including Jose Ramos Horta, who won the Nobel Peace Prize
for his "work towards a just and peaceful solution to the conflict in
East Timor."

Iran, 1979 ­ Smuggled cassettes

During the Iranian revolution, there were several means of
communication in Iran. According to the non-profit Iran Chamber
Society, these were very important communication tools for Ayatollah
Rouhollah Mousavi Khomeini:

International media (newspaper, radio, telephone, telegraph) after
his arrival to Paris,
Distribution of his articles in Iran by his supporters at night,
Lectures by clerics throughout the country (every small village in
Iran has a cleric).

In an attempt to weaken Khomeini's ability to communicate with his
supporters, the Shah urged the government of Iraq, where Khomeini was
living in exile, to deport him. The Iraqi government cooperated and
on Oct. 3, 1978, Khomeini left Iraq for Kuwait, but was refused
entry. Three days later he left for Paris and took up residence in
the suburb of Neauphle-le-Chateau. Though farther from Iran,
telephone connections with the home country and access to the
international press were far better than in Iraq.

According to The Guardian, a lot of Khomeini's messages to Iranian
people came through smuggled cassettes: "[Khomeini's] messages were
distributed through music cassettes, which were smuggled into Iran in
small numbers, and then duplicated, and spread all around the country."

Another very important communication method at the time was pamphlets
which were printed and distributed clandestinely at night time. These
pamphlets asked people to join demonstrations and informed them of activities.

Foreign media also helped spread otherwise unavailable information,
even though such sources were censored heavily by Shah. Media outlets
such as the BBC and The Guardian reported extensively on events in Iran.

China, 1989 ­ Posters, poetry and the goddess

The student-led movement that swept Beijing in the spring of 1989 and
ended in tragedy began amid a uniquely Chinese form of political
communication and dissent: written protests and poetry posted in
public gathering spots. The spontaneous posting on college campuses
of dazibao, or "big character posters," which criticized government
officials and policies and called for reforms, became a common form
of communication during the Tiananmen movement.

Dazibao had been used for centuries in China to express dissent, and
cropped up again and again amid the roiling political turbulence of
China's 20th century.

But word of the Tiananmen protests got two other important boosts.

First, central authorities did not prevent local media from reporting
on the story. So news spread rapidly throughout the country. It then
spread wider, and faster, thanks to foreign media who happened to be
in Beijing to cover a state visit by Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev.

Students quickly capitalized on this development, writing signs in
English for broadcast on CNN and the BBC and constructing the
"Goddess of Democracy" ­ a statue that came to symbolize the event
for television viewers around the world.

East Germany, 1989 ­ Plotting in the churches

East Germany's proximity to the West limited the government's ability
to control outside communications. "East Germany had the special
situation that you could listen to all the West German radio stations
and in most parts, you could also receive the TV stations," said
David Gill, an opposition leader who helped lead the storming of the
Stasi, or secret police, buildings in January 1990.

"And then people mostly met in churches ­ the demonstrations in the
beginning always started from churches," he said. Every Monday night,
many churches would hold peace prayers, which became increasingly
political. Between word of mouth and West German broadcasting, word
spread of the weekly ritual.

"People knew if they wanted to be part of the movement, they should
look what's going on in the church in town," Gill said. "People went
to church because they knew after this, they would go out for demonstrations."

When protests began in East Germany, the crowds numbered in the
hundreds, but they grew to hundreds of thousands. And as the
revolution progressed, state controls grew looser. When theater
workers organized a large demonstration in Berlin in November 1989,
the protest was advertised even in the newspapers ­ "it was no longer
really undercover," Gill said. Then the Berlin Wall fell on Nov. 9, 1989.

But back in the beginning, worry of a crackdown loomed: "There was a
big fear that the East German authorities could turn violent, like in
Tiananmen a couple of months before," he said.

Poland and Czechoslovakia, 1989 ­ Carbon paper?

Students and dissidents in former Soviet-bloc countries like Poland
and then-Czechoslovakia didn't have the advanced communication of 20
years later ­ email, Internet and cell phones.

Heck, they were lucky if they even had a computer and a printer.
Those allowed them to write up their underground newspaper ­ Samizdat
­ and easily print hundreds, or thousands, of copies in short order.
Otherwise they were left to bang it out on typewriters, using carbon
paper (if you are under 30 you probably don't even know what that
is). If they were lucky, they could make six carbon copies at a time,
typing it out letter by letter.

The Samizdat newspapers ­ like every other kind of information
students and dissidents sought to distribute ­ required
good-old-fashioned shoe leather. Nobody dared use a telephone to
arrange a meeting ­ or anything else ­ for fear the secret police
were listening in. So information was distributed by word of mouth,
person-to-person.

In Poland the underground media reports ­ mostly print but also radio
­ were picked up by Radio Free Europe and the Voice of America, which
then broadcast the news back into Poland, according to Konstanty
Gebert, a commentator for Gazeta Wyborcza, one of Poland's leading newspapers.

"This of course gave the authorities the time to prepare, but it was
the only way to get large numbers of people out on the street," he
wrote in an email.

Monika Pajerova was a student leader of the Velvet Revolution that
brought down the communist government in 1989.

"Czechoslovakia was completely cut off from the outside world," she
said. "We only had Radio Free Europe, which was difficult to receive."

But after the huge demonstration on Nov. 17, 1989, when hundreds of
thousands joined the students' protest, many of them spontaneously,
organizers knew their time had come.

"It was the first time since '68 that so many people were in the
streets," Pajerova said, referring to the Prague Spring, a reform
movement in 1968 that sought "Socialism with a human face." The
Spring was crushed by Soviet tanks that summer, and the country
labored under one of the most retrograde communist regimes in the
Eastern bloc for the next 21 years.

"We knew we had to get the message out," she said. "Our biggest fear
was that the protests would start and end in Prague."

So hundreds of students, dissidents and celebrities were dispatched
by car to spread the message to the countryside.

Less than a month later, Havel ­ who had been jailed several times by
the Communist government ­ was elected president by the communist
parliament. And the communist government was soon out of power.

For the protesters in Iran to succeed, will require both
determination and luck, according to Pajerova.

"The crucial thing is to have a group of people absolutely devoted to
the cause," she said. "But you also need historical context."

The collapse of communist governments in East Germany and Poland that
year, as well as the Soviet Union's refusal to offer military support
was a boon for the dissidents. That and the fact that the Prague
Spring, a generation before, as well as the country's brief
experiment with democracy between the world wars, made the time ripe
for the Czechoslovak revolution.

By contrast, the pro-democracy protests in China that same year were
brutally crushed by the Beijing government.

"In Tiananmen," she said, "the historical context wasn't there."

In retrospect

Historically, new technologies have consistently shaped collective
action, said Paul Buhle, former professor of American Civilization at
Brown University and scholar of social movements.

In the 1920s, the radio stations WEVD and WCFL sought to exploit
their new medium to bring the Socialist and Labor movements to wider
audiences, he said. While these first stations, whose call letters
referred respectively to Eugene V. Debs and the Chicago Federation of
Labor, failed to significantly bolster their causes, pirate radio
would later become invaluable to dissident movements throughout the world.

But technology can be a double-edged sword for social movements. "The
way strikes used to succeed was by stopping people from going across
the picket line, and often that meant getting into fistfights with
them. Then came video cameras and it became impossible to throw a
punch" for fear of prosecution, Buhle said.

More recently, technology has served movements by furthering
accountability. "It's much harder now for police to act horribly
because of the threat that somebody will have a cell phone and record
it," Buhle said. Citing past abuses against protesters at political
conventions, he said "if these had been recorded and made instantly
available on YouTube it might have made a difference"

And "what's true for Chicago or Minneapolis or New York is true for
Iran too," Buhle said. "It doesn't mean authorities can be stopped,
but it makes it much more difficult for them to deny who is doing the
violence."
--

David Case, Stephanie S. Garlow, Ashley Herendeen, Bruce I. Konviser,
Barbara E. Martinez, Kathleen E. McLaughlin, Thomas Mucha, Alex
Pearlman and Ben Schreckinger contributed to this report.

.

Breaking the silence [Simon and Garfunkel]

Breaking the silence

http://www.theage.com.au/news/entertainment/music/2009/06/18/1244918121939.html

The duo of the '60s is staring down 70, writes Tiffany Bakker.

6/18/09

FIVE minutes into an interview with folk legends Simon and Garfunkel,
and Paul Simon is already rolling his eyes. Art Garfunkel, Simon's
childhood friend and longtime musical sparring partner, is explaining
why the duo has decided to tour our shores for the first time since 1983.

"I have new things to say," says Garfunkel.

"And I dread that …," says Simon, eyebrows raised.

"Wait until you hear some of my monologues," adds Garfunkel, looking
across at Simon with glee. Simon glances back with a look that you
can only imagine he's been giving him for more than half a century.

"There are several factors," continues Simon, ignoring the giggling
Garfunkel. "One, given our ages, the clock is seriously ticking, so
if we're going to do it, it's the sooner, the better, I think."

"Women have their biological clock," says Garfunkel, "and we have our
mortality clock."

Simon exhales. Again.

When I meet the famous musical duo (both of whom are 67) at their
record company's New York offices, they remain the quintessential odd
couple. Garfunkel, with his trademark curly red mop (helped along
these days by artificial means), is the more gregarious of the two,
quick with a joke and a smile. Simon, whose silver hair pokes out
from a baseball cap, is more contemplative and reserved.

It's no secret the duo has long had a fractious relationship (they
didn't speak for years after splitting acrimoniously in 1970), and
it's been stipulated by anxious minders that we not to delve too
deeply into the reasons why. Broach the subject, though, and, Simon,
surprisingly, is happy to talk.

"Honestly, (our relationship) couldn't be better, in a way," he says.
"We had a long period of time where the friendship was really
strained to the point where we weren't speaking.

"But prior to our last tour (in 2004), we just said to each other,
you know, whatever it was, let's just drop it, because we're going to
the end of the road as friends, so let's just repair that, and we did."

"There's an ease between us now," adds Garfunkel. "It's been easy for
me to hang out with Paul these past few years."

"You have to remember we've known each other since we were 11," says
Simon. "I remember when we used to have arguments when we were kids,
and then we'd make an agreement, OK, let's just stop the argument.
And we would. We did that last time and it was fine. And it will be
fine this time. Which is not to say that we won't disagree about
something here and there … But we're fine. It's in the past."

The past, it seems, continues to define Simon and Garfunkel. They
began singing together after meeting at school in Queens, New York,
when Simon recalls seeing Garfunkel sing a Nat King Cole tune to
rapturous schoolyard applause.

"It was a sensation in the fourth grade," he says, wryly. "Up until
then, I'd been a sports-mad kid, but I thought, 'Hmm, that's very
interesting, he got so much attention, I wonder if I can do that.' "

According to the pair, that soon-to-be-famous vocal blend (which
began with the duo trying to emulate their heroes, Don and Phil
Everly) was apparent early on. "Pretty early in the game we started
making similar sounds," recalls Garfunkel.

"We got closer and closer as friends and as sonic pals and we
produced a sound where my voice began to be altered towards my
friend, and his towards mine, and we mutually combined to make this
harmonious, blended sound."

Those silky-smooth harmonies would make them one of the biggest
groups in the world, and seemed to define the sound of the 1960s.
Songs such as I Am a Rock, Mrs Robinson, Scarborough Fair, The Sounds
of Silence and Bridge over Troubled Water tapped into the social and
political consciousness of the '60s. The songs resonated strongly
with a generation of young Americans who were dealing with the
Vietnam War, the surging civil rights movement, and the rise of
women's liberation.

"It was a powerful time," muses Simon. "We were both the
beneficiaries of the '60s, and also contributors to it. Bridge over
Troubled Water became a song that was quite deeply embedded in the
culture; it was played after September 11, it was even played at
Ronald Reagan's funeral. It became a song that was almost hymn-like
and it was a reassuring song. It used to be played at lots of
weddings, and now it's played at a lot of funerals."

The Bridge over Troubled Water album was the pair's final recording,
selling 25 million copies worldwide, winning a swag of Grammys in
1971, and staying in the British charts on and off for close to a decade.

After the split, Garfunkel focused on a film career (which some
suggest played a large part in his rift with Simon), of which his
most notable roles were in the Mike Nichols-directed Catch-22 and
Carnal Knowledge. He also continued to record solo material with
varying degrees of success.

Simon's solo career was much more celebrated.

An early solo album, There Goes Rhymin' Simon, was considered a
pop-folk masterpiece, but even its success couldn't compare with the
global acclaim ­ and numerous Grammys ­ that greeted his 1986 Graceland album.

He has since continued to write new music, and has also composed
music for the stage (he was nominated for a Tony for The Capeman in 1998).

Simon and Garfunkel have not recorded any new material together for
close to 40 years, a fact both admit gives their tour a nostalgic edge.

"With the exception of one or two songs, we're singing the repertoire
of the five albums we made, that ends in 1970. We're singing old
songs," says Simon, adding that they will bring a full band to
Australia. "But I'm hoping the night will be something more than just
a nostalgia trip. We'll try and bring some sense of joy and
musicality and blend to the sound that people love."

True, the pair have been heard only sporadically on stage together
since their split. Their most famous show remains a 1981 concert in
New York's Central Park, which drew 500,000 people and subsequently
led to a world tour, which included Australia.

They have fond memories of their 1983 visit, where, in Melbourne,
they played to a packed VFL Park in Waverley. "I remember the
sunlight in Australia ­ the white light. I remember the people were
upbeat and very happy," says Garfunkel. "I remember being in New
Zealand and my girlfriend at the time, (filmmaker) Penny Marshall,
and I hitchhiked around the South Island …" He trails off. "The South
Island was an acid trip."

"Well, it may have actually been one," says Simon, drily. "Actually,"
he continues, conspiratorially, "I drove past Artie and Penny hitchhiking …"

They're also interested in reconnecting with an audience that is
ageing along with them. "How strange it will be to be 70, as it
appears over the horizon," says Simon. "It will be powerful, for our
generation, to feel that."

"Can you imagine us years from today sharing a park bench?" adds
Garfunkel. "How terribly strange to be almost 70. It's all kind of weird."
--

Simon and Garfunkel play at Rod Laver Arena on June 25 and 26.

.

Meeting Gloria Steinem: A woman for all times

Meeting Gloria Steinem: A woman for all times

http://www.examiner.com/x-1560-Worcester-Examiner~y2009m6d18-Meeting-Gloria-Steinem--a-woman-for-all-times

June 18, 2009
by Ajita Perera

Her name is synonymous with the women's liberation movement. She is
an icon for feminism, a journalist and writer of repute. She is
Gloria Steinem and at 75 years of age is still a woman for all times.
I was privileged to spend a few moments with her at the recent
Women's Leadership Summit held at Southern New Hampshire University.
I conducted a TV interview with Ms. Steinem for the New England Job
Show and here is the transcript of that interview.
--

--How have you seen women progress in the workforce over the decades?
Will the glass ceiling ever disappear?

Eventually the glass ceiling will disappear but women in a way are
like a version of an immigrant group and in the same way that the
Irish and the Italians, African Americans, Hispanic groups often had
to start their own businesses (because getting hired in someone
else's was less likely), we're seeing that happen with women too. So
it's not just about getting hired into the major corporations, it
never has been. We've been more likely to have to start our own
businesses as well as being inside those corporations.

--With unprecedented unemployment levels, more men are assuming the
homemaker role while women go to work. Did you ever envisage this
shift in male/female dynamics back in the day?

We've been hoping (laughs). The whole idea is, yes we've demonstrated
to the whole country that women can do what men do, but we haven't
demonstrated that men can do what women can do! Therefore the single
biggest problem for the largest number of women is having two jobs ­
one inside the home and one outside!! It's terribly important that
men become equal inside the home not just for women but for
children. Unless children see men being loving and nurturing they
won't know that it's possible and they will grow up and just
replicate the gender roles.

--So you think some good will come out of this economic turmoil and
unemployment?

Some good does come out of it definitely. You always see that poor
economic times are better for women's equality than good economic
times because more men can afford a dependent life. Just as we saw in
the depression or obviously World War II, we saw an advancement in
women's equality. So perhaps this time because we have the
consciousness at the same time as bad economic times are upon us,
maybe we will be able to use this to equalize the world in a positive way.

--Your generation did much to "liberate" women. Do you think today's
women take their freedom and liberties for granted?

I hope so (laughs) because otherwise they won't move forward. As
Susan B. Anthony said, our job is not to make young women grateful
but to make them ungrateful. I want them to get angry at the huge
remaining inequities - the enormous violence against women, the sex
and labor trafficking of girls - I want them to stop saying 'how can
I combine work and family?' unless men are saying it equally. So I
don't want them to be grateful, I want them to be angry.

--But I just think there's a whole younger generation who take it all
for granted. They don't know what people like you went through to
make sure they have the freedom to do whatever they want.

It's good to know history because it helps you to understand that
things don't happen automatically, you have to fight for them. So yes
of course I want young women to know their history. But gratitude
never radicalized anybody. I did not walk around saying, oh thank you
for the vote! I got mad because I was being treated unequally. And
young women will get mad because they are being treated unequally.

--Will we ever see a day of total equality between the sexes and
what's your prediction on that?

Yes! We've seen it in the past. Actually as far as we can tell from
original cultures ­the Khwe and the San of southern Africa from whom
we all came, the Dalits of south India, the societies across the
Himalayas and native American cultures here, there was much more
equality. It was about balance and balance of nature. The Iroquois
Confederacy here actually was the inspiration for the suffrage
movement because it was so egalitarian. Elders chose the chief and
decided when to go to war and when to make peace and so on. So we
count history from since it began as patriarchy, monarchism (only men
are gods, big problem!), nationalism which is quite recent. Ninety
five percent of human history is a different way, so can we achieve
this now, in the future? Of course!

--You are currently working on a book titled "Road to the Heart:
America as if Everyone Mattered" about your 30 years on the road as a
feminist organizer. Who is "everyone" and do they matter?

Everyone is everyone! It's understanding that each of us is an unique
miraculous combination of heredity and environment. This could never
have happened before in exactly this way and it could never happen
again. There is a person already inside every baby, as everyone who's
ever met a baby knows. And the idea that the amount of melanin in our
skin is going to dictate our lives or that our genitals dictate our
brains, it's ridiculous. The individual differences are infinitely
more than the group differences so it's literally about understanding
that you are not more important than anyone else , but not less
important either.

--Like the Women's Movement of which you are a key figure, the New
England Job Show is a grassroots effort. How can we make an impact
and mature into an organization that can impact people's lives?

I think helping people to unify around what they need. Getting jobs,
creating jobs, and really looking at executive pay, which is way too
much. One of the good things about this economic crisis is that we
are beginning to realize. I was just reading that the top CEO 30
years ago made 80% more than the No. 3 in the ladder and now it's
250% more which is ridiculous. So when we are thinking about the
problem we need to think about not just looking horizontally at
whether we are getting equal pay but looking vertically at whether
that pay is justified up there.

--In a 1968 TV interview Moses Znaimer of CBC asked you: "What do you
want to be when you grow up?"You replied after quite a pause: "Free
and old and a little mean."Are you there yet?

I'm working on it (laughs), I'm still a little too nice. I'm 75 which
is remarkable to me. I certainly do feel more free. I wouldn't dream
of retiring…. I mean from life? First I don't have a job, I sort of
freelance! One of the things that make you more free is your hormones
change; you're not enslaved by your hormones anymore. There's this
little part of your brain that was otherwise reliably dedicated to
sex, which is still there but free for other things.

--But why would you want to be mean?

Well I think I was understanding how much I had been trained to be
feminine; that is to give a lot more effort out and to look for
approval and so on. So I was striving to get out of that.

.

Psychedelic sixties bus takes visitors to another time

Across the Universe bus at Southern Shore Music Festival in Millville

http://www.nj.com/bridgeton/index.ssf?/base/news-5/1245643825262990.xml&coll=10

Monday, June 22, 2009
By JOE GREEN
jgreen@sjnewsco.com

MILLVILLE - They call it the Across the Universe Psychedelic Bus - a
time capsule to a rebellious era.

It was used in the 2007 musical film "Across the Universe," which
involves more than 30 songs written by members of the Beatles and
takes place in the mid to late 1960s.

In the film, the bus is named "Beyond," and the name is still painted
on the front above the windshield.

The school bus turned hippie cross-country transport was on display
at Saturday's Southern Shore Music Festival at the county fairgrounds.

Charlie Mulholland, who lives just outside Vineland, said he and his
wife Rita bought the bus, in its current state, from a dealership.

Every inch of the bus is covered inside and out in classic 60s
multi-colored, psychedelic patterns, complete with peace signs,
feathers and flowers.

The inside is a traveling, makeshift hotel just right for war
protesters headed for San Francisco or Woodstock.

On each side of the aisle is a bench of sorts serving as a small
sofa, with colorful blankets serving to soften long-term seating.

On one such sofa were small framed paintings, which Rita said her son
created. All had brightly-colored, abstract designs, some with peace
signs showing subtly.

One said "All you need is love."

Another included an actual brown, fall-time oak leaf.

Also on the sofa are period album covers. One shows a very young Arlo
Guthrie likely in the late 1960s.

Nearby, are a few copies of the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin
newspaper from 1969.

One has a front page story about the Apollo 11 landing on the moon,
the first manned mission to do so.

The other sofa had a small, brown animal fur backpack often seen worn
by traveling youngsters during the tumultuous period.

Strung along the length of the bus and on both sides were portraits
of musicians and other famous figures of the era.

One shows a laughing Janis Joplin, wearing several long, beaded
necklaces, cigarette in hand.

The bus steering wheel has a pipe for a turn signal switch.

Behind the driver's seat is a small coffee table with four little
makeshift padded chairs. And toward the back is a set of bunk beds.

In the back, a winding metal staircase, partly decked with bulbs of
different colors, leads to a little stage on top of the bus. There,
Bono of the rock band U-2 performed in "Across the Universe."

Altogether, far too many artifacts are crammed into the bus than can
be taken in at once.

"The more you look at it, the more you see," Rita said of her prize
vehicle. She said she and her husband noticed things weeks after they
first bought it that they had not originally seen.

Visitors to the Southern Shore Music Festival took a gander Saturday.

Charlie said this was "Beyond's" first trip to the Festival, but he
takes it to bike shows, cruise nights and car shows.

.

Arivaca wonders if 'live, let live' let girl, 9, die

Arivaca wonders if 'live, let live' let girl, 9, die

http://www.azstarnet.com/metro/297952

Killings of child, father are woven into a tapestry of drugs in this
town of loosely close-knit people

By Tim Steller
Arizona Daily Star
06.21.2009

ARIVACA ­ "Live and let live" ­ the phrase arises often when Arivaca
residents talk about their little town.
Many people come here to live together in a vast, arid landscape, but
not so closely as to be in their neighbors' business.
After the May 30 home-invasion murders of 9-year-old Brisenia Flores
and her father, Raul Flores, some wonder whether they have been
intrusive enough. After his murder, authorities said Flores, known as
Junior, was a well-known marijuana trafficker.
Maggie Milinovitch, who co-owns the local bar, La Gitana, and runs a
monthly publication, Connection, said she and some other Arivaca
residents feel guilty over Brisenia's death.
"We're a community that shares parenthood ­ we watch out for each
other's children whenever we can, and the loss of a child is a
failure in being aware of the danger," she wrote in an e-mail.
Local residents remained emotionally raw last week over the murders.
In the bar and at the taco stand, residents broke into tears when
asked about it.
Anthony Coulson, head of the Drug Enforcement Administration's Tucson
office, said he thinks the girl's death resulted from a community failure.
"Raul Flores was a drug trafficker," Coulson said, noting that his
agency was actively investigating Flores as a central player in the
area's smuggling. "I think the majority of the people there are
sympathetic and tolerant of the trafficking that goes on."
But others say the situation is not so clear-cut. Arivacans, they
say, have long worked to balance the anarchistic local tendencies
with community standards, if not always laws.
Sandy Rosenthal, commander of the Pima County Sheriff's Department's
Green Valley District, said Arivaca residents "do report to us and do
help us and are involved in their community."
What makes Arivaca tick
To understand Arivaca, you have to understand that most people who
live there chose it.
They came to escape the city. They came for the loose but friendly
community. They came for the oasis quality of this low, green spot in
the high desert.
When hippies began migrating to the area in the early 1970s, the
population could be counted in the low hundreds, and the hippies were
not welcomed. Today, the area's population may exceed 1,000, and the
aging hippies run many of the unincorporated town's institutions.
"They didn't want us here when we first got here, but we've outlived
them," said Michael Armour, who came to Arivaca with his brother,
Danny, in 1973.
Both sat on the patio at La Gitana last week, enjoying an afternoon
drink in this spot about 13 miles north of the Mexican border and 45
minutes' drive from the nearest Sheriff's Department office.
The area's relationship with contraband goes way back, as local
librarian and Arivaca native Mary N. Kasulaitis found while
researching the 1870s Arivaca mining boom. E.B. Gage, a mining
superintendent in the area, wrote in a letter:
"There is a great deal of smuggling between Sonora and Tucson, which
would naturally be done nearer the line if it could be. In this
respect it might not be profitable to have a military post too near us."
For the intervening decades, smuggling has remained a fact of life
around Arivaca, especially after the marijuana trade picked up in the
1970s. In that era, the new Arivacans learned to police themselves,
Danny Armour said.
When a sheriff's deputy began aggressively patrolling the area in
1997, some residents protested vociferously, saying he had crossed
the line from enforcement to harassment.
Smuggling remains economically significant, bringing new money into
an area with few other sources of income. But in the 21st century,
the "military post" Gage referred to has finally arrived in the form
of a constant Border Patrol presence, highway checkpoints and
"virtual fence" towers being built around town.
"Maybe six years ago, I would have told you that Arivaca is an island
of private land surrounded by state and federal land that you can get
out and enjoy," said Roger Beal, co-owner of the town's grocery
store, the Arivaca Mercantile. "Now it's changed. If you went out in
the desert, you'd probably be challenged as to why you're there."
On June 11, about 12 miles southeast of town, three employees of the
Arizona Game and Fish Department and Pima County were fired upon by
four men wearing camouflage.
Arivaca, Beal said, "is getting less remote."
Outsiders coming in
Smugglers and government agents aren't the only outsiders appearing
in the Arivaca area.
Humanitarian groups such as the Green Valley Samaritans, which patrol
area roads to help border crossers, appear regularly in town.
During lunch at the taco stand last week, Samaritan member Bethia
Daughenbaugh said the group has had an almost exclusively positive
response from local residents.
South of town about five miles and up a rutted, rocky drive, younger
members of No More Deaths camp on private land with the owner's
permission. They take desert hikes looking for endangered border
crossers, camping on and crossing private property they've been allowed to use.
"I've never had a bad encounter," said Jimmy Wells, a veteran of
several summers working for the group.
While many locals sympathize with these groups, relatively few seem
to support the more hard-line border-watch groups, such as those
bearing the Minuteman name.
Two of the people charged with the home-invasion murders, Shawna
Forde and Jason E. Bush, led a small group called Minutemen American
Defense based in Everett, Wash. Investigators say they carried out
the attack as the beginning of a violent campaign to steal money and
drugs from drug traffickers. The group planned to use its haul to
fund its activities, investigators said.
Such people occasionally show up in town on the way to camp-outs
closer to the border, several residents said. But they hang around
only rarely. Forde appeared a few times at La Gitana recently, customers said.
"Most people who live here can't stand the Minutemen," Robin Warren
said as she worked at the Gadsden Coffee Co.'s cafe.
Said Beal, of the Arivaca Mercantile: "There's not an Arivaca border
watch at all."
The "meth heads"
Another group of occasional interlopers is what locals ­ with equal
measures of disdain and sympathy ­ call "meth heads."
They first appeared in the mid-1990s and have sprung up occasionally
since, in cycles that usually end in self-destruction, Danny Armour said.
Tucsonan Jay Ramsey, 30, said he's had to deal with the meth heads
around Arivaca. Ramsey showed up at the Mercantile last week on an
ATV, wearing a pistol in a holster and flip-flops on his feet. He
spends about half his time in Arivaca, he said, where his parents have retired.
His parents love Arivaca, he said, but they had to shoo off
methamphetamine addicts who set up a trailer on their property. Meth
addicts also started living on a neighboring property that belongs to
Robert Devine, a longtime Arivaca resident in prison for killing his
girlfriend in 2001.
Ramsey's mother, Susan, struck up a correspondence with the prisoner
about the problem, she said. In the community spirit typical of
Arivaca residents, Devine gave Susan Ramsey power of attorney over
the property.
"He thought meth was a horrible drug, and he wanted to help get it
out of Arivaca," she said.
That sort of cooperation might seem unusual in some places, but it's
not so strange in a place where people are used to working things out
without getting the authorities involved.
"You're in charge of your own destiny out here," Beal said.
--

Contact reporter Tim Steller at 807-8427 or at tsteller@azstarnet.com.

.

Retiring teacher more than gave peace a chance

Retiring teacher more than gave peace a chance

http://www.connpost.com/ci_12636890

By Genevieve Reilly
06/19/2009

FAIRFIELD -- Tie-dyed t-shirts ruled the day at North Stratfield
School on Friday, but the staff wasn't preparing for a concert by
Phish concert or the Grateful Dead. They were honoring retiring
kindergarten teacher Marilyn Giles, who has spent most of her
teaching career promoting peace to her students.

Teachers sporting the shirts, marking Giles' retirement also had
peace-sign medallions around their necks.

Giles, who has taught at North Stratfield for 25 years, was taken by
surprise when the school's annual Spirit Day morphed into Marilyn
Giles Day. "As principal, there are some things I can't do, like
close school," Principal Deb Jackson said, but changing Spirit Day to
Mrs. Giles Day was something she could do -- and did -- as she
directed Giles to a chair that sat front and center before a student assembly.

Giles, joined by many co-workers and parents, was moved to tears by
the celebration, which included several songs from the students as
well as a reworked version of ABBA's, "There You Go Again" rendered
by the teachers.

At one point, all of Giles' current kindergartners as well as former
students still at the elementary school left the assembly, went into
the hallway and filed back into the gym carrying an origami crane and
a note with messages of their own choosing. They handed their gifts
to Giles as she hugged each and every one of them.

But there were still more surprises. In recognition of Giles'
continued efforts teaching her students to become peacemakers, the
school set up a peace pole at the entrance. The 8-foot-tall
handcrafted, wooden pole was inscribed with the message, "May Peace
Prevail on Earth," in four languages -- English, Gaelic (representing
Giles' heritage), Japanese (since the tradition of peace poles
started there after the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima), and
Swahili (representing the background of President Obama).

Jean Gallati, the parent of a North Stratfield student, in describing
the peace pole to the gathering, said it would let others know that
North Stratfield is a special place dedicated to peace on earth.

"Peace is not only taught here," Gallati said, "it's spoken here."

In Giles' class, she said, youngsters learn math by counting the
different symbols for peace on the walls, and you learn how to say
"peace" in many languages. "Mrs. Giles' plan works. You teach the
children and the children teach the parents," she said.

There was still one gift left after the peace pole. Teachers took
turns reading lines from the Mem Fox book, "Whoever You Are," a
favorite of Giles. When done, they presented her with a copy,
autographed by the author.

At the end, as she accepted the best wishes from students and
parents, Giles reflected on her years teaching. She hadn't planned on
teaching about peace, she said, as a 21-year-old starting out in the
field. "I really began to realize the importance of it as I grew up,"
Giles said. The child of a Vietnam War hero, Giles said, "I felt
called to share it in my teaching."

And she doesn't believe her students have just been parroting back
her words. "I really believe that they have totally internalized it,"
Giles said.

.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Billy Jack, avenger of injustice, gets a screening

Billy Jack, avenger of injustice, gets a screening

http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/news/la-et-billyjack20-2009jun20,0,3994385.story

Tom Laughlin, the actor, writer and director of the cult classic,
will speak afterward.

By Mike Albo
June 20, 2009

The America of 1971 was a place of deep divisions. A war dragged on
in a far-off land, conservative values were pitted against the
politics of personal freedoms and the youth were restless. It was
against this backdrop that actor-writer-director Tom Laughlin tapped
into the spirit of the times and unleashed "Billy Jack" -- a tale of
one man's fight to preserve justice for the young hippies and Native
Americans attending a "freedom school" situated in an ultraconservative town.

Now, almost four decades later, a digitally remastered "Billy Jack"
is set to screen Sunday night at the Billy Wilder Theater in Westwood
as part of the Los Angeles Film Festival, followed by a conversation
with Laughlin.

Though there had been plenty of lone-wolf heroes in cinema before the
arrival of Laughlin's titular character, few were so closely aligned
with the counter-culture of the era. And though the movie had a
hippie vibe, Billy Jack was no daisy-draped peacenik. First
introduced in the 1967 biker exploitation classic "The Born Losers,"
he was a troubled former Green Beret dressed in a black reservation
hat and jeans jacket. He was skilled in the martial art of hapkido
and was a crack shot with a rifle. And he wasn't afraid to use
excessive violence to protect his friends when they were hassled by
local police and rednecks.

"Billy Jack's" mixed message of violent pacifism confounded some
critics, but that only underscored the moral ambiguity of the times
-- and made for some entertaining fight sequences that predated the
soon-to-be-popular Hong Kong martial arts movies.

Laughlin, now in his 70s and living in Moorpark, says that the
characters and situations in "Billy Jack" came out of his personal
experiences when he was courting his wife, Delores Taylor, who
co-wrote and costarred with him in the film and sequels -- "The Trial
of Billy Jack" and "Billy Jack Goes to Washington" -- in the small
town of Winner, S.D., where he heard tales of discrimination,
including one about service refused at a local store.

The incident inspired what is arguably the movie's signature scene,
in which a group of Native American students who attend the local
"freedom school" are dusted with flour in an ice-cream shop, much to
Billy Jack's dismay. This provokes a soliloquy in which our hero
tells the small-town racists that, even though he tries to follow the
precepts of nonviolence, when he witnesses this kind of moral
outrage, he has to take action. It's here that he utters the film's
famous catchphrase, "I. . . just . . . go . . . BERSERK!" and
proceeds to unleash his feet of fury and demolish the bad guys.

Laughlin, a Minnesota native who landed his first big role in Robert
Altman's 1957 film "The Delinquents," notes that "everything in that
movie, in one sense or another, came from real life." Which, perhaps,
explains the film's popularity with youth and why it has maintained
its cult status.

But getting "Billy Jack" into the theaters required almost the same
kind of heroics that Laughlin's character was performing on screen.
After an initial release by Warner Bros., the film withered at the
box office. Laughlin was later able to take the film back and
embarked on a radically different way -- for the time -- of
distributing a movie.

"In 1973, we eventually took control of the distribution doing
whatever we could," he said. "We'd go into a city and do radio and
newspaper ads, and we'd rent a theater and put our own people in the
box office. The rule back then was that a film had to open in a
city's downtown, and after the picture played out there it was moved
to the upscale theaters, and after that the cheaper theaters and drive-ins."

Under Laughlin's guidance, "Billy Jack" eventually took in more than
$40 million at a time when, Laughlin pointed out, "tickets only sold
for 75 cents or a dollar."

In the years since "Billy Jack's" heyday, Laughlin has remained
politically active and outspoken, running for president as an
independent candidate in 1992, 2004 and 2008, as well as trying to
get yet another "Billy Jack" movie off the ground. Currently titled
"Billy Jack and Jean," Laughlin promises it will update the character
that made him famous and be "unlike any film ever made."

.

Get a Life, Holden Caulfield

Get a Life, Holden Caulfield

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/06/21/weekinreview/21schuessler.html

By JENNIFER SCHUESSLER
Published: June 20, 2009

On Wednesday, a federal judge granted a temporary restraining order
forbidding publication in the United States of "60 Years Later:
Coming Through the Rye," a takeoff on ­ J. D. Salinger's lawyers say
rip-off of ­ "The Catcher in the Rye," written by a young Swedish
writer styling himself J. D. California.

Until the judge makes her final ruling, Mr. Salinger's fans will be
spared the prospect of encountering Holden Caulfield, the ultimate
alienated teenager, as a lonely old codger who escapes from a
retirement home and his beloved younger sister, Phoebe, as a drug
addict sinking into dementia.

But Holden may have bigger problems than the insults of irreverent
parodists and other "phonies," as Holden would put it. Even as Mr.
Salinger, who is 90 and in ailing health, seeks to keep control of
his most famous creation, there are signs that Holden may be losing
his grip on the kids.

"The Catcher in the Rye," published in 1951, is still a staple of the
high school curriculum, beloved by many teachers who read and reread
it in their own youth. The trouble is today's teenagers. Teachers say
young readers just don't like Holden as much as they used to. What
once seemed like courageous truth-telling now strikes many of them as
"weird," "whiny" and "immature."

The alienated teenager has lost much of his novelty, said Ariel
Levenson, an English teacher at the Dalton School on Manhattan's
Upper East Side, Holden's home turf. She added that even the students
who liked the book tend to find the language ­ "phony," "her hands
were lousy with rocks," the relentless "goddams" ­ grating and dated.

"Holden Caulfield is supposed to be this paradigmatic teenager we can
all relate to, but we don't really speak this way or talk about these
things," Ms. Levenson said, summarizing a typical response. At the
public charter school where she used to teach, she said, "I had a lot
of students comment, 'I can't really feel bad for this rich kid with
a weekend free in New York City.' "

Julie Johnson, who taught Mr. Salinger's novel over three decades at
New Trier High School in Winnetka, Ill., cited similar reactions.
"Holden's passivity is especially galling and perplexing to many
present-day students," she wrote in an e-mail message. "In general,
they do not have much sympathy for alienated antiheroes; they are
more focused on distinguishing themselves in society as it is
presently constituted than in trying to change it."

Of course, Holden has always had his detractors. Harcourt Brace, the
publishing house that originally solicited "The Catcher in the Rye,"
turned it down, saying it wasn't clear whether Holden was supposed to
be crazy. Later, highbrow critics like Joan Didion and George Steiner
mocked his moral shallowness and "relatability."

But Holden won over the young, especially the 1960s generation who
saw themselves in the disaffected preppy, according to the cultural
critic Morris Dickstein. "The skepticism, the belief in the purity of
the soul against the tawdry, trashy culture plays very well in the
counterculture and post-counterculture generation," said Mr.
Dickstein, who teaches at the Graduate Center of the University of
the City of New York. Today, "I wouldn't say we have a more gullible
youth culture, but it may be more of a joining or togetherness culture."

The culture is also more competitive. These days, teenagers seem more
interested in getting into Harvard than in flunking out of Pencey
Prep. Young people, with their compulsive text-messaging and
hyperactive pop culture metabolism, are more enchanted by wide-eyed,
quidditch-playing Harry Potter of Hogwarts than by the smirking
manager of Pencey's fencing team (who was lame enough to lose the
team's equipment on the subway, after all). Today's pop culture
heroes, it seems, are the nerds who conquer the world ­ like Harry ­
not the beautiful losers who reject it.

Perhaps Holden would not have felt quite so alone if he were growing
up today. After all, Mr. Salinger was writing long before the rise of
a multibillion-dollar cultural-entertainment complex largely catering
to the taste of teenage boys. These days, adults may lament the
slasher movies and dumb sex comedies that have taken over the
multiplex, but back then teenagers found themselves stranded between
adult things and childish pleasures.

As Stephanie Savage, an executive producer of the "Gossip Girl"
television series, told National Public Radio last year, in Holden's
world "you can either go to the carousel in Central Park, or you can
choose the Wicker Bar. You can have a skating date, or you can have a
prostitute come up to your hotel room. There's really not that sense
of teen culture that there is now."

Some critics say that if Holden is less popular these days, the fault
lies with our own impatience with the idea of a lifelong quest for
identity and meaning that Holden represents.

Barbara Feinberg, an expert on children's literature who has observed
numerous class discussions of "Catcher," pointed to a story about a
Holden-loving loser in the Onion headlined "Search for Self Called
Off After 38 Years."

"Holden is somewhat a victim of the current trend in applying ever
more mechanistic approaches to understanding human behavior," Ms.
Feinberg wrote in an e-mail message. "Compared to the early 1950s,
there is not as much room for the adolescent search, for intuition,
for empathy, for the mystery of the unconscious and the deliverance
made possible through talking to another person."

Ms. Feinberg recalled one 15-year-old boy from Long Island who told
her: "Oh, we all hated Holden in my class. We just wanted to tell
him, 'Shut up and take your Prozac.' "

.

Dylan Covers

[2 articles]

Thursday's Earful:
Dylan Covers

http://www.earvolution.com/2009/06/thursdays-earful-dylan-covers.asp

By: David Schultz
June 18, 2009

For Heroes, the compendium of covers whose proceeds go to War Child
International, an organization dedicated to aiding children worldwide
afflicted by war, Beck completely reinvented Bob Dylan's "Leopard
Skin Pill Box Hat." After listening to it for about the 50th time
over the past few weeks, it prompted me to start discussions over
whether Beck's version of the Blonde On Blonde classic was the best
Dylan cover ever. Of course, whenever such a subjective question
comes up, it can mean only one thing: it's list time.

Some artists have made their careers out of covering Dylan: Peter,
Paul & Mar