Extra from The Berkeley Daily Planet
Stewart Edward "Stew" Albert was a Brooklyn-born, Berkeley-bred anti-war
political activist, poet and publisher in the 1960s. Stew made the trek
to San Francisco in 1965 and, within days of running into poet Allen
Ginsberg at the City Lights Bookstore, he was working with the Vietnam
Day Committee. (The VDC went on to host a historic Teach-In on the
Berkeley campus with speeches from Norman Mailer and Ken Kesey and songs
by Phil Ochs). It was in Berkeley that Stew met Jerry Rubin and Abbie
Hoffman — and joined them in co-founding the Youth International Party
(aka the “Yippies”).
Stew was to be found in the midst of all the major Yippie pranks, from
tossing money off the New York Stock Exchange balcony to the attempted
“Exorcism of the Pentagon” and the Yippies’ 1968 Presidential campaign
that saw a pig nominated to serve as the country’s Commander-in-Chief.
Stew was busted outside the 1968 Democratic National Convention while
covering the event for the Berkeley Barb (the country’s first
“underground” newspaper) and named as an “unindicted co-conspirator” in
the Chicago Seven case. When the unpaid staff of the Barb went out on
strike, Stew became editor of the rival Berkeley Tribe, which soon had a
circulation of 53,000 copies.
In 1970, Stew ran for Alameda Country Sheriff and came in second. Back
in his outlaw mode, it was Stew who abetted an international fugitive
when he arranged for Eldridge Cleaver to offer a Tunisian sanctuary to
Timothy Leary after the latter’s escape from a California prison. In the
early 1970s, Stew and his wife, Judy Gumbo Albert, successfully sued the
FBI for planting an illegal wiretap in their home and won a $20,000
settlement. Two FBI supervisors were subsequently fired for the crime.
In 1984, Stew and Judy co-edited The Sixties Papers: Documents of a
Rebellious Decade, a compendium of writings from the Civil Rights
Movement, Students for a Democratic Society, the anti-war movement, the
counterculture, and the women's movement. In 2006, two days before he
died of liver cancer, Stew posted one final, rebellious declaration on
his blog: "My politics haven't changed." His memoir, Who the Hell is
Stew Albert?, is available from Red Hen Press.
For more on Stew’s life, see Richard Brenneman’s 2006 memorial in the
Berkeley Daily Planet:
http://www.berkeleydailyplanet.com/issue/2006-02-03/article/23349?headline=Stew-Albert-Activist-1939-2006-By-RICHARD-BRENNEMAN&status=301
Judy Gumbo Remembers Her Partner, Stew
Stew’s wife and partner, Judy Gumbo Albert, is completing a book called
Yippie Girl — an insider’s memoir of love and friendship among the
Yippies and other romantic revolutionaries of the late 1960s. You can
contact her at: www.yippiegirl.com. Judy recently posted a collection of
unpublished poems in her husband’s memory, along with this message to
friends and colleagues:
I can't believe Stew's been gone for five years, but it's true. This
Sunday, January 30, 2011, is the fifth anniversary of his passing. In
our house we celebrated Stew's birthday as if it was a national holiday.
Stew wrote a lot of political poems. He also wrote family poems to
Jessica and me. I’d cry every time he'd give me one. To commemorate his
life, I put these never-before-published poems up on my website. Here's
the link:
http://yippiegirl.com/love-poems-of-stew-albert.html
— Judy Gumbo Albert
Some Poems from Stew Albert
(April 25, 2003)
Seig Howdy
Fascism,
not just mad Marxist-Lenninist scientists
using the name in fear and loathing.
Ordinary liberals and libertarians
looking over their shoulders
nervously describing secret courts and prisons
torturous no Constitution terms of confinement.
Of a punishing bullying government
propaganda media thugs scandalizing
even the mildest critics in Bush Town.
Of fixed and future elections
billion dollar brain washing extravaganzas
once called political campaigns.
The conquest of Iraq
signals an ultra right-wing conquest of America.
Powell shuffles or is purged.
Along with all those gay gun control Dixie Chick pro-choice Republicans.
Every one always knew it could happen here.
Not by violence
but by money and the manipulation of minds.
Emperor George has one last task before he’s untouchable.
Convince millions of Americans
that the economy tanked in the toilet
because liberals opposed giving billionaires
everyone’s spare change.
He sells that one
and the goose step
becomes compulsory morning exercise.
(May 1, 1997)
It Was 20 Years Ago – Today
20 years later and our merger outlasts the red holiday of utopian
desire.
We have our secret celebration, our own love
a private nation of family sandwiches, a daughter, a cat, stuffed
utopian animals, trips, questions, peaceful pleasures.
Marriage May Day May Day
So much has been lost.
Man overboard. May Day May Day
We found each other 20 years ago on a glistening afternoon
a hillside of memories and unforgotten friends.
Amidst chaos and cowardice, remembering, creating out of love and
friendship
a soulful union of hope.
(May 1, 2003)
May Pole
Happy May Day Comrades
It’s my wedding anniversary.
I met Judy in 1968 on the Berkeley campus.
It was Stop the Draft Week and she was new in town.
We married on May 1, 1977.
Our marriage outlasted our movement.
Oh Comrades,
If only our communal consciousness and idealistic wisdom
had been as enduring as the love of a man and a woman.
I thought I could count on you, Comrades
but you got absorbed into the great American vacuum cleaner
of lost memory.
Judy makes it possible
to hope that Dubya will walk naked and ashamed.
If we could stick together bound by love, irony and kindness,
then anything good must still be possible.
(May 1, 2005)
Yes You May Day
May Day is Married Day
‘cause Comrade Judy and I got married 28 years ago
on this ancient red-letter day.
She was eight months pregnant
under a sun shining Woodstock wedding of tie-dye chuppa
with friends and family cheering
Bill Kunstler cracking jokes
secret police skulking for underground Abbie
by blocking roads and reading licenses.
Loving lovers always be trumping lying liars
that’s the story till now.
Except last year was spent in chemotherapeutic hell
accompanied by Dubya’s stealing a second term.
A very bad year for good people.
But roses are budding, the garden awakens, the struggle renews,
the senior marrieds now ride off into western sunset
for bright month of legendary beauty.
Everybody must get renewed by love.
(June 5, 2002)
I was the first to see you 25 years ago,
I told Judy moments after you began the journey
“She has the eyes.”
Penetrating power that looks at you and knows.
On your 25th birthday
those same eyes, undiminished and stronger
still look intensely.
Know that you are loved, cherished, respected beyond measure.
A sweet warrior celebrates a new chapter.
She is strong. She is ready.
(December 4, 2002)
Let me raise a cup to my fallen pals
The empty chairs and tables
At the Yippie Café
To Jerry Rubin, Abbie Hoffman, Phil Ochs and all the others.
In dreams they come for me.
And say they love me, miss me, want me.
OK, someday I’ll be coming
But not just yet.
I’ve got a few more poems up my sleeve
And a few more Bushies to burn.
* “Stew wrote this poem on his 63rd birthday…. I put it on his memorial
card.” — Judy.
--
http://berkeleydailyplanet.com/issue/2011-01-26/article/37214?headline=Celebrating-Stew-Albert-br-December-4-1939-January-30-2006-
Via InstaFetch
Stewart Edward "Stew" Albert was a Brooklyn-born, Berkeley-bred anti-war
political activist, poet and publisher in the 1960s. Stew made the trek
to San Francisco in 1965 and, within days of running into poet Allen
Ginsberg at the City Lights Bookstore, he was working with the Vietnam
Day Committee. (The VDC went on to host a historic Teach-In on the
Berkeley campus with speeches from Norman Mailer and Ken Kesey and songs
by Phil Ochs). It was in Berkeley that Stew met Jerry Rubin and Abbie
Hoffman — and joined them in co-founding the Youth International Party
(aka the “Yippies”).
Stew was to be found in the midst of all the major Yippie pranks, from
tossing money off the New York Stock Exchange balcony to the attempted
“Exorcism of the Pentagon” and the Yippies’ 1968 Presidential campaign
that saw a pig nominated to serve as the country’s Commander-in-Chief.
Stew was busted outside the 1968 Democratic National Convention while
covering the event for the Berkeley Barb (the country’s first
“underground” newspaper) and named as an “unindicted co-conspirator” in
the Chicago Seven case. When the unpaid staff of the Barb went out on
strike, Stew became editor of the rival Berkeley Tribe, which soon had a
circulation of 53,000 copies.
In 1970, Stew ran for Alameda Country Sheriff and came in second. Back
in his outlaw mode, it was Stew who abetted an international fugitive
when he arranged for Eldridge Cleaver to offer a Tunisian sanctuary to
Timothy Leary after the latter’s escape from a California prison. In the
early 1970s, Stew and his wife, Judy Gumbo Albert, successfully sued the
FBI for planting an illegal wiretap in their home and won a $20,000
settlement. Two FBI supervisors were subsequently fired for the crime.
In 1984, Stew and Judy co-edited The Sixties Papers: Documents of a
Rebellious Decade, a compendium of writings from the Civil Rights
Movement, Students for a Democratic Society, the anti-war movement, the
counterculture, and the women's movement. In 2006, two days before he
died of liver cancer, Stew posted one final, rebellious declaration on
his blog: "My politics haven't changed." His memoir, Who the Hell is
Stew Albert?, is available from Red Hen Press.
For more on Stew’s life, see Richard Brenneman’s 2006 memorial in the
Berkeley Daily Planet:
http://www.berkeleydailyplanet.com/issue/2006-02-03/article/23349?headline=Stew-Albert-Activist-1939-2006-By-RICHARD-BRENNEMAN&status=301
Judy Gumbo Remembers Her Partner, Stew
Stew’s wife and partner, Judy Gumbo Albert, is completing a book called
Yippie Girl — an insider’s memoir of love and friendship among the
Yippies and other romantic revolutionaries of the late 1960s. You can
contact her at: www.yippiegirl.com. Judy recently posted a collection of
unpublished poems in her husband’s memory, along with this message to
friends and colleagues:
I can't believe Stew's been gone for five years, but it's true. This
Sunday, January 30, 2011, is the fifth anniversary of his passing. In
our house we celebrated Stew's birthday as if it was a national holiday.
Stew wrote a lot of political poems. He also wrote family poems to
Jessica and me. I’d cry every time he'd give me one. To commemorate his
life, I put these never-before-published poems up on my website. Here's
the link:
http://yippiegirl.com/love-poems-of-stew-albert.html
— Judy Gumbo Albert
Some Poems from Stew Albert
(April 25, 2003)
Seig Howdy
Fascism,
not just mad Marxist-Lenninist scientists
using the name in fear and loathing.
Ordinary liberals and libertarians
looking over their shoulders
nervously describing secret courts and prisons
torturous no Constitution terms of confinement.
Of a punishing bullying government
propaganda media thugs scandalizing
even the mildest critics in Bush Town.
Of fixed and future elections
billion dollar brain washing extravaganzas
once called political campaigns.
The conquest of Iraq
signals an ultra right-wing conquest of America.
Powell shuffles or is purged.
Along with all those gay gun control Dixie Chick pro-choice Republicans.
Every one always knew it could happen here.
Not by violence
but by money and the manipulation of minds.
Emperor George has one last task before he’s untouchable.
Convince millions of Americans
that the economy tanked in the toilet
because liberals opposed giving billionaires
everyone’s spare change.
He sells that one
and the goose step
becomes compulsory morning exercise.
(May 1, 1997)
It Was 20 Years Ago – Today
20 years later and our merger outlasts the red holiday of utopian
desire.
We have our secret celebration, our own love
a private nation of family sandwiches, a daughter, a cat, stuffed
utopian animals, trips, questions, peaceful pleasures.
Marriage May Day May Day
So much has been lost.
Man overboard. May Day May Day
We found each other 20 years ago on a glistening afternoon
a hillside of memories and unforgotten friends.
Amidst chaos and cowardice, remembering, creating out of love and
friendship
a soulful union of hope.
(May 1, 2003)
May Pole
Happy May Day Comrades
It’s my wedding anniversary.
I met Judy in 1968 on the Berkeley campus.
It was Stop the Draft Week and she was new in town.
We married on May 1, 1977.
Our marriage outlasted our movement.
Oh Comrades,
If only our communal consciousness and idealistic wisdom
had been as enduring as the love of a man and a woman.
I thought I could count on you, Comrades
but you got absorbed into the great American vacuum cleaner
of lost memory.
Judy makes it possible
to hope that Dubya will walk naked and ashamed.
If we could stick together bound by love, irony and kindness,
then anything good must still be possible.
(May 1, 2005)
Yes You May Day
May Day is Married Day
‘cause Comrade Judy and I got married 28 years ago
on this ancient red-letter day.
She was eight months pregnant
under a sun shining Woodstock wedding of tie-dye chuppa
with friends and family cheering
Bill Kunstler cracking jokes
secret police skulking for underground Abbie
by blocking roads and reading licenses.
Loving lovers always be trumping lying liars
that’s the story till now.
Except last year was spent in chemotherapeutic hell
accompanied by Dubya’s stealing a second term.
A very bad year for good people.
But roses are budding, the garden awakens, the struggle renews,
the senior marrieds now ride off into western sunset
for bright month of legendary beauty.
Everybody must get renewed by love.
(June 5, 2002)
I was the first to see you 25 years ago,
I told Judy moments after you began the journey
“She has the eyes.”
Penetrating power that looks at you and knows.
On your 25th birthday
those same eyes, undiminished and stronger
still look intensely.
Know that you are loved, cherished, respected beyond measure.
A sweet warrior celebrates a new chapter.
She is strong. She is ready.
(December 4, 2002)
Let me raise a cup to my fallen pals
The empty chairs and tables
At the Yippie Café
To Jerry Rubin, Abbie Hoffman, Phil Ochs and all the others.
In dreams they come for me.
And say they love me, miss me, want me.
OK, someday I’ll be coming
But not just yet.
I’ve got a few more poems up my sleeve
And a few more Bushies to burn.
* “Stew wrote this poem on his 63rd birthday…. I put it on his memorial
card.” — Judy.
--
http://berkeleydailyplanet.com/issue/2011-01-26/article/37214?headline=Celebrating-Stew-Albert-br-December-4-1939-January-30-2006-
Via InstaFetch
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