IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH AMERICA?

If might makes right, America is the most righteous nation to ever exist.

Most Americans — if asked before 911would say that nothing is wrong with America. America is where everyone wants to be. People risk everything to come here. End of story. And by the way, if you don’t like it, leave.

The attitude of most Americans before September 11, 2001 was to willfully and blissfully ignore the many blunders for which the United States is renowned in the rest of the watching world.

These screw-ups include but are not limited to:

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Codifying slavery in our Constitution (Article IV, Sec. 2)
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Southern States fighting the Civil War to preserve slavery.
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Conducting genocidal wars against native Americans.
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Depriving Negroes of their freedom after fighting a bloody civil war to give them their freedom.
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Permitting our country to slide into a Great Depression while doing almost nothing to fix it.  (Free coffee and donuts?)
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Dropping atomic bombs on Japanese cities.
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Killing 20% of the population during a senseless war in Korea.
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Allowing gangsters to run our cities.
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Unleashing a bloodbath of assassinations against politicians and entertainers in the nineteen-sixties and seventies.
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Executing foreign leaders (among them, Che Guevara, pictured above) while launching Bay-of-Pigs style military operations against small countries like Cuba, Nicaragua, Guatemala, and Chile.
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Conducting a genocidal war in Vietnam — simply to test a new generation of weapons. Jane Fonda, pictured above, was among the first who said it wasn’t right.
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Exploiting migrant agricultural workers.
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Overturning sixty years of tax law in the 1980s to allow undemocratic concentrations of wealth.

and on and on and so on.

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Alfred E. Neuman of Mad Magazine

In 2001 Americans believed these idiocies lay in our past; our distant past. They were symptomatic of nothing; not worth noticing, analyzing or fixing. They had nothing to do with now. Nothing was going on now that we needed to fret about or repair. Like Alfred E. Neuman of Mad Magazine, Americans could say, What, me worry?

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World Trade Center Twin Towers.

In 2001 the Twin Towers came down. Buried in the rubble lay two-hundred billion dollars of 99.997% pure gold ingot (allegedly recovered).

The oil-rich Bush family‘s first reaction was to take the world to war. The ramp-up was egged on by profiteers, as war always is. And Wall Street insiders, under the cover of the War on Terror, began to deploy contrived financial instruments like bundled sub-prime mortgage derivatives (which obfuscated risk) to better suck dry the deep pools of the world’s wealth unaware.

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Blunders came fast and furious. By 2008 the leaders of the United States had made so many mistakes they created a financial meltdown. Millions of people lost their homes and jobs. The middle class lost fifty-five percent of its accumulated wealth — much of it in retirement accounts. The situation became dire, causing some people to believe God was punishing the USA for its sins.


America wright_jeremiah_0
Before he made his Nobel Prize winning run for the presidency, Barack Obama’s pastor was Jeremiah Wright. During the early years of Obama’s term, hundreds of retired Chicago police officers set up a perimeter defense around Jeremiah’s church each week to protect congregants from death threats. Obama eventually resigned his membership to protect from harm his friends-in-Christ. It worked. Over the years the threats decreased; the church survived.

People decided to turn around and do the unthinkable: elect the nation’s first black president. His pastor, Jeremiah Wright, screamed, the chickens have come home to roost, on all the news shows. Some people thought, maybe Barack Obama can calm down our angry God.

But as of 2014 — six years after the near-fatal financial meltdown — the USA continues to hover on the precipice of a Soviet Union style collapse.

It’s time to ask the question: Is something wrong with America?  And maybe one more: Is something wrong with Americans?

Before we ask or answer questions like these, perhaps we should ask an even larger question. Is America a place where people have any chance at all to do well over time?

It might be that geography and geology on this side of the globe are not suitable for civilization or sustained human activity. Whoever lives on this side — whatever their values or culture — may, in the long run, not matter.

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Historically, large populations of humans have been unable to establish themselves for long periods on our hemisphere.
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Hurricane Irene, 1999

The Americas have been inhospitable to humankind. Looking back over the eons, a case can be made — due to earthquakes, volcanoes, meteor hits, frequent ice ages, predatory animals, mosquito and insect bred diseases, droughts, floods, wild fires and hurricanes — that large populations of humans have simply not been able to establish themselves on our hemisphere for long periods; nor will they, ever.

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This disturbing graphic is one artist’s depiction of volcanic eruptions 100 miles southeast of Yosemite National Park — now a hundred years overdue. 

The United States endures, on average, a thousand tornadoes each year. This number is greater than all the tornadoes that occur in the rest of the world added together.

It wasn’t until 1920 that the population in North America reached a hundred million people. It is conceivable — under reasonably imagined scenarios — that the population of North America will soon collapse.

Some geologists believe the mammoth super volcano buried beneath Yellowstone National Park will erupt someday — perhaps soon.  If they are right, surviving humans will have to start over.

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Coastal shelf off Los Angeles, California

Other geologists believe seismic activity in the west may one day cause the loss of sizable portions of our continental shelf, perhaps precipitating a cataclysmic flood. Earthquakes in the Cascadia subduction zone have wiped-out huge swaths of our Pacific Northwest forty-one times during the past ten-thousand years. The next earthquake/tsunami is a hundred-and seven years overdue.

It is often said California is the eighth largest economy in the world. Should California or the Pacific Northwest slide into the Pacific Ocean, it would be hard for the rest of North America to keep going.

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Diablo Canyon Nuclear Power Plant, California

In addition to the deaths of forty million people, intensive seismic activity and floods could destroy California’s four civilian nuclear reactors (one active, but all storing dangerous quantities of radioactive waste) and the military’s nuclear sites, nuclear powered ships, and submarines. High-level radioactive waste would then pollute the Pacific Ocean and our coastal areas for many thousands of years (much like the disaster now unfolding in Fukushima, Japan).

The question of whether our continent is suitable to support an advanced civilization for more than a few hundred years remains to be answered. It’s not clear to me that it can.

But let’s return to the original question: Is something wrong with America?  

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Oakland, California Occupy Wall Street Riots, November 2011

Why does a country with our values do bad things? Why so much inequality, crime and perversion? Why so much addiction, pervasive drug use, bullying, child abuse, domestic violence and murder?

Why generational wars, gated communities, blighted inner cities, militias, and political extremism? Why concentration of wealth for the few and debt and despair for the many? Why the increase in home schools and private academies in a nation whose founding virtue was public education for every citizen?

Why so much hatred directed against a people whose only crime was hating slavery, Jim Crow segregation, and the current hardships of discrimination in hiring, housing, health care, and policing?

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Why so much inequality, crime, and perversion?
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Fortress America

Why can’t black people, for example, catch a  break after everything they’ve put up with, from lynchings to (for one black man, at least) being ridiculed on national television for mispronouncing correct answers on Jeopardy?

When we ask questions like these, it seems clear (to me at least) that something sinister is wrecking havoc on our dreams and aspirations. Something fundamental about the way we think and problem-solve is not serving us well.

Europeans like to point out that Americans solve problems by selecting and working through all the wrong solutions first. It’s what makes us so sure we’re right, when we finally stumble on the correct solution.

But how about another view? We live in a country where powerful people once owned slaves. Industrial tycoons operated private militias to control restless employees.

We live in a country where an entitled, strong-willed aristocracy has ruled for centuries a population who believes itself to be free; a democracy.

Old habits of thought and action have been handed down from each generation to the next on both sides.

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Cosmetic industry tycoons, Mr. & Mrs. Lauder

The powerful and wealthy have learned they can hire spokesmen (like Rush Limbaugh and Tom Brokaw, for example) to play on the fears, aspirations, and assumptions of common people to better confuse and seduce them into serving their interests. This manipulation of one class of people by another has led to a schizophrenic dynamic, which is one of the reasons people in other countries and cultures think Americans are crazy.

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Possible future if we don’t secure our democracy.

The lunacy will not end anytime soon. It seems our country is determined to follow its aristocracy wherever it leads. History is full of examples of elites who — deluded, depraved, and out of touch — led their civilizations into the abyss. It’s why our ancestors invented democracy — so cliques of wealthy, well-connected power-trippers couldn’t harm us.

Alas, democracy is not a form of government the elites of the world favor. And we may have lost our democracy a long time ago. Perhaps we never had one. We simply imagined we did, because our rulers told us so.

Billy Lee

Post Script — 19 October 2017 — from the EDITORS:  Nineteen months after the publication of this essay, Americans elected a self-proclaimed billionaire and entertainer who was unvetted as to his physical and mental health; unvetted as to his financial status; unvetted in his foreign entanglements; and who lacked any experience whatever in the art of politics.

He lost the popular election by eleven million votes to Hillary Clinton (3M votes) and third-party candidates (8M votes). 

Bernie Sanders, Jill Stein, Gary Johnson, and Evan McMullen garnered the lion’s share of third-party voting. 

The new president blamed his 11 million vote deficit on illegal voting by immigrants. He is now being investigated by the Justice Department and committees in both the Senate and the House of Representatives for conspiring with foreign powers to rig the outcome.

He didn’t serve in the military, yet threatens to take America to war against Korea and Iran. Something is wrong with this picture. He is dismantling health-care and unleashing immigration pit-bulls like ICE on a population of young people who have no memory of having ever lived outside the United States.

It seems like an angry, racist pit-bull is loose in the china-shop. Maybe Billy Lee is right. If so, the United States is screwed. It really is. When this nightmare is over, a lot of broken glass is going to be lying around that everyone will somehow have to clean-up.

The good news? America has a way of surviving catastrophes of its own making. We’re good at managing unnatural disasters that we inflict on ourselves. Maybe to some the chances seem this time to be as low as one in a million.

Jim Carey said in the movie Dumb and Dumber, one in a million means we still have a chance. We might survive the mess of a failed presidency. It’s possible. Who knows? Many are ready to sit on the sidelines to “wait and see” what happens.

During WWII, millions boarded trains in Europe to travel to God knows where. What’s the worst that can happen? many thought to themselves as they watched German soldiers with dogs push families into rail cars.

Maybe waiting to see what happens is not the best strategy for survival..

THE EDITORIAL BOARD

Note: On Tuesday September 24 2019 the House of Representatives opened an impeachment inquiry against Donald Trump. 

A PERSONAL HISTORY OF TELEVISION, PART ONE

When I was 4 years old, our family lived in Japan.

I have a vivid memory of a dark night when the maid took my brother and me out for a rendezvous with our parents. We stood on concrete steps outside a brick building waiting for them to show up.


The neon sign emitted a bright glow of colors. I’d never seen anything like it.

Beneath the starless sky, almost at eye level, a neon sign emitted a glow of colors. I’d never seen anything like it. I asked our Japanese maid what it was.  It’s television, she said.

The year was 1952. Four years earlier, the first television stations in the United States started to broadcast. But Japan then was a primitive, conquered country. It would be years before television arrived. Our maid didn’t know what she was looking at. Neither did I.  For me televisions continued to be bright neon signs for quite some time.

Here is an excerpt from Wikipedia:

True regular commercial television network programming did not begin in the U.S. until 1948. During that year legendary conductor Arturo Toscanini made his first of ten TV appearances conducting the NBC Symphony Orchestra; Texaco Star Theater, starring comedian Milton Berle, became television’s first hit show. Since the 1950s, television has been the main medium for molding public opinion.



[Not to digress into weeds that might choke a winding river, but during World War II, Italian composer Arturo Toscanini’s daughter  Wally Castelbarco (friend to Russian-born actress Marianned Pistohlkors) and Allen Dulles (CIA director, 1953-1961) engaged in a ”forbidden” sexual affair in Bern, Switzerland (check the correct location and dates).  President Kennedy fired Dulles after the failed 1961 Bay of Pigs invasion of Cuba.  Following Kennedy’s murder in 1963, Allen Dulles sat on the Warren Commission. He died from complications of flu in 1969. Wally is the woman at the far left standing next to her parents.]


Like almost everyone else in America, our family missed the first seven years of broadcast television, including Toscanini’s series. I was born in San Diego in 1948, the year commercial television made its debut. At the time, Americans owned 45,000 television sets — three-quarters of them in the New York City area. (Americans owned 44 million radios.)  In San Diego, what few televisions there were lay locked, most of them, behind laboratory doors.

Mom and Dad didn’t buy our first television until 1955. I was seven.  By then we were living in Bethesda, Maryland where Dad worked for the National Security Agency. At the time, no one knew the NSA existed. It was television, many years later, that brought the secret agency to the public’s attention. 


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Touching the television could get you sent to your room, or worse.

Our first television looked a lot like the one pictured above. It was a magical box that, at first, we were not allowed to touch. Touching the television got us sent to our rooms, or worse. Dad delivered a painful nip with his finger to the back of any hand that dared to touch the keen knobs that controlled the TV’s mysterious features. But eventually, especially when Dad wasn’t around, the rest of the family, myself included, became adept at the controls.

The television-set broadcast two channels crisp and clear and one channel with a lot of “snow.” The picture was always black and white, and the stations went dead after 11:30 PM. Of course, we were all in bed well before then. Our parents wouldn’t dream of staying up later. They worked, after all.

After 11:30 PM each television station would display a graphic like the ones below and issue forth a loud hum or ringing noise.  Sometimes I got up way too early and would observe these mysterious symbols and their humming on all three channels. They reminded me of what we might see and hear if Russia attacked us with atomic rockets.


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After hours, mysterious symbols hummed on all three channels.

off air


Our favorite shows were on early Saturday morning. In addition to cartoons like Mighty Mouse, we watched The Lone Ranger, the Howdy Doody Show, Buffalo Bill, and Captain Kangaroo.  

On weekdays after school, we rushed home to watch the Mickey Mouse Club starring Annette Funicello. I loved Annette completely. She was the only female Mouseketeer to have boobs.


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Annette Funicello

Next to Marilyn Monroe — who everybody knew about but no one had ever seen (she wasn’t allowed on television) — Annette Funicello was the most desirable female on planet Earth at that time. But, by fourth grade, a terrible tragedy struck. Though not reported by television or newspapers (kids didn’t read newspapers, anyway), every child somehow learned that Annette had died from bubblegum asphyxiation — a tragedy to rival the Kennedy assassination years later.

Much later — in college during the 1960s — we learned Annette Funicello didn’t die. Media reported that she was alive and well and living somewhere in California.

The knowledge helped to ameliorate the pain of other deaths that were reported in the newspapers and on television back then — John and Bobby Kennedy; Martin Luther King; Malcolm X; Otis Redding; Jimi Hendrix; Janis Joplin; Marilyn Monroe; Che Guevara — and many others. Maybe it was possible,  just possible — we hoped against hope — someday, someway — we would learn that these unusual people didn’t die, either.

By my third-grade year, the biggest event in everyone’s lives was the night Elvis Presley appeared on television for the first time — on the Ed Sullivan Show. Everyone — adults and kids alike — dropped everything to see Elvis. Words cannot express how huge this event was in the history of America. Those who didn’t have a television went out and found one. The entire country watched.

Everyone knew about the controversial movements Elvis Presley made with his legs and hips — they were reported in all the magazines and newspapers — but no one could imagine what these moves actually looked like. We needed television to show us.


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Elvis Presley, 1956

And what did television do? In a spectacle that would be repeated again and again for decades after, television dropped the ball and disappointed its huge viewing audience. The camera focused on Presley’s face and upper body. No one saw his infamous lower-body machinations. After all the psychic energy invested by everyone to finally learn the secrets of this unusual man’s success, television left us wondering.

Elvis sang a song that night we had all heard many times before on the radio: Hound Dog. Seeing the song performed — not just hearing it, like on the radio — was exciting enough to make most everyone forget about what they had missed.

You ain’t nothing but a hound dog — cryin’ all the time. You ain’t nothing but a hound dog — cryin’ all the time. You ain’t never caught a rabbit, and you ain’t no friend of mine. When they said you was high class, well that was just a lie. When they said you was high class, well that was just a lie. You ain’t never caught a rabbit, and you ain’t no friend of mine.

No one who experienced the magic of his television appearance could imagine in their darkest nightmare that someday Elvis would die, too.

On a brighter note: advertising revenue for the show set an all-time record; viewership set an all-time high. It seemed clear to all that television was here to stay.

Billy Lee

SEGREGATION AND THE GATED COMMUNITY

The word community sounds egalitarian to most people. And gated?  No word has a  fairer proportion of safety to airy openness in the image it conveys to the mind.


Gated community near Orlando, Florida.

Florida is a land flowing with gates and communities. It is a Promised Land of sun, leisure, warm pools, and exclusivity. For the past month Bevy Mae and me have been vacationing inside this paradise at a house at one such community near Naples, Florida. It took three references, photo ID, and all cash up front to get us in here.

We are grateful for our good fortune. And we are in a really safe place. But when thinking about the state of affairs which has excluded as many as 94% of all Americans from the possibility of living here — if only for a few weeks — it makes me sick to my stomach. And of course, if you don’t live here you can’t be here — not even to drive through.


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The compound we live in is huge. While biking in it the other day I was amazed to stumble on another gated community inside ours. It has a lake and huge houses. The gated occupants of our community aren’t allowed in their community even though their community is inside our community. Apparently, there are layers of gated communities. I never knew that.

As a teenager, I lived for two years in Key West, Florida. This was before the Civil Rights Act of 1964. It was totally segregated down there. The only black person I ever saw was our maid. She was an articulate thirty-year-old woman and really beautiful. I liked her a lot and talked with her every chance I got, usually about politics. From her I learned how difficult life was for black people in Key West at that time — and maybe just as importantly, that a lot of black people actually lived in Key West.

She said she supported the incumbent Democrat for Congress who was then running against an upstart Republican — a young guy always on the radio always complaining about how rich his opponent was. She liked the Democrat, she said, because he once bought park benches for her neighborhood.


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At Key West High School the powers-that-be were considering the admission of a black kid from a “good” family. His dad was an officer in the U.S. Navy, I think. In the school cafeteria over lunch I made the mistake of saying I saw nothing wrong with going to school with “Negroes” (as they were then called by polite people).

“What!” some kid yelled. “You want to eat with niggers?”  Soon a crowd gathered. I stood my ground, and no one beat me up. The South was changing, but only a little.

One thing Key West didn’t have back then — no town did in those days — was gated communities. We had a military base that was gated — I lived on it — but the gates were for security against the hated Communists. We didn’t have terrorists or any other sort of enemies of the state. All that was to come later.

After World War II, the South and some parts of the North enforced segregation with a civilian militia called the Ku Klux Klan. It was a quasi-religious/military-style organization self-tasked with extra-judicial punishments of Negroes who violated the unwritten codes of the South.

If a black family bought a house in a white neighborhood, the militia would burn it down. Sometimes, so as not to smoke-damage nearby homes, the KKK would bomb the house; or if young white children lived nearby they might burn a cross in the front yard to frighten the occupants into leaving.

Lynchings  — common after the First World War — were, by the 1950s, less common.


Ku Klux Klan


After dozens of documented actions against Negroes — and perhaps hundreds or thousands of undocumented ones — white neighborhoods did not need gates, or walls, or fences to remain segregated.

Eventually, after years of separation, the white people who lived in these communities came to believe — many of them — that black people chose not to live next to them, because they preferred “their own kind.”

Terrorism? It didn’t exist in the United States of America in those days. The first time I heard the term was in college. Terrorism, then, was always directed against Israel, for some reason, almost always by Palestinians. The reasons why were never clear.

I don’t know what white people say today is the reason black people don’t live in the gated communities of Florida. I haven’t lived here long enough to learn.

I would bet that in some town somewhere in this huge state a black family lives in a gated community. Maybe more than one. I can imagine people pointing to that family as proof of my being uncharitable to the good people of Florida and to people everywhere who live in these spaces.

But it seems plain to me — fifty years after Congress, the President and the Supreme Court declared segregated housing illegal — black people don’t live in these desirable communities. Why is that?

I don’t know. I met a black man down here the other day. He told me he had been a Marine who helped liberate Kuwait during the first Gulf War.

He cleans the pool. Maybe I’ll ask him.

Billy Lee

THE PARROT NEXT DOOR


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Inside the shadows of the lanai next door lurks a loquacious parrot. Bevy Mae and me can’t see him, but we know he’s in there, because he talks — a lot.

We want to meet him. But we are visitors on vacation, and it doesn’t seem quite right to walk up to the neighbor’s front door and announce, “Hi, we’re the neighbors from up north. Can we see your talking parrot?”

It seems a little forward, like something kids might do, right?

Every morning the parrot wakes us up with cries of “Lisa!” and “Chuck, Chuck!” When Chuck and Lisa don’t come running (and so far they haven’t) he can throw a bit of a hissy-fit and bang his cage like a tin can. Sometimes he hurls what sounds like obscenities.

I don’t want our neighbors — who I’ve met by the way; sweet folks from South America — to imagine that my wife and I don’t anything but adore their bird. We really do.

The parrot has an astounding repertoire of words and phrases that are nothing short of amazing. His Burt Lancaster accents and phraseology make me believe he may have been in the movies.

We will keep you posted on all the cute things he says and does.

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4:30PM   The talking parrot was well behaved this afternoon. He said the following:

Charlie! Ow! Come ‘ere!
Hush up!
Hey Dad!
Charlie! Wee ooh!
Charlie! Wee ooh!
Chuck! Chuck!
Tweet! Wee ooh!

(etc. etc.)

10:00PM Friday  We didn’t hear the parrot today. Really miss him.

6:30 PM Sunday  The Parrot is back! Here is a transcript:

Wee ooh! Wee ooh! Hello.
Ee yooh. Tweet. Woo. Charlie!
What!? Joe?
Hey. Hey. Get out here!  [obscenity]
Hey! Hey girl. Hey. Hey.  [obscenity]
Charlie?  [farting sounds]
Hey girl  [whistles]
Hey John!
Tweet. Tweet. Tweet.
Doll?
Hey dad!  Hey dad!  [squeak]
Whoo! Whoo! Chirp. [bangs cage]
Charlie. Charlie. Wee ooh.
Chirp. Chirp.
Hey!  Help!
Whew!

(etc. etc.)

Billy Lee

JOINT ISSUE ANNIVERSARY

This month marks the 43rd anniversary of the birth of Joint Issue, a publication my friends and me produced, which became the Newspaper of Record for the anti-Vietnam War movement and counterculture “happenings” in East Lansing, Michigan during the years 1971-1973.

Joint Issue 1971-01-04 page 01 VOL2NO1
Hippie Rescues Drowning Child. Michigan legend, Denny Preston, illustrated this famous cover from the Underground Press.

Other papers like the Red Apple News, The Paper and the Bogue Street Bridge were around before and after Joint Issue. But none covered the anti-war movement and the counterculture like Joint Issue. None commanded the large readership, the community support, — including substantial advertising by local merchants — or the attention from police and other protectors of public morals.

Every local “radical” of consequence passed through our doors at one time or another. Every Lansing-area revolutionary and revolutionary wannabe read our paper and tried to know us.

Even the MSU police paid a visit from time to time. At 3AM one morning we found them in our Student Services office rummaging through our stuff. No warrants required, of course.

During the past months I have reread many of the old issues that me and my friends Ken, Davy, Patti and others once proudly worked to publish. It’s amazing how prescient we were, how many of our “wild” ideas caught hold and became mainstream. But there are disappointments too. Some causes, like gay rights, are still being fought.   Editors Note: In June 2003, the Supreme Court legalized gay relationships; on 26 June 2015 all gay marriages became legal and constitutionally protected in the United States. 

I included below a photo of each page of our first issue for folks to read. Some will be relieved to learn that many issues of the original Joint Issue are protected at libraries with a complete collection in very good condition in the archives of the MSU library.

Insider Histories, Ken Wachsberger
Historian Ken Wachsberger covers some of the history of Joint Issue in his book Insider Histories, available on Amazon.com

The history of the underground press in general and of Joint Issue in particular remains largely untold by mainstream media. It is good that Kenny Wachsberger stepped up to preserve much of this history in his important and thorough Insider Histories — available through Amazon.com. The section on Joint Issue begins on page 195. It is a must read for anyone who wants to know what was really going on during this transformational era in US history.

Other important books by Ken Wachsberger can be found at this link.

The photos below are of a newspaper that is showing its age after forty-three years sitting in a library’s cardboard collection box or on the back shelf of a closet.

Back in the day, we published Joint Issue on clean white Demy-sized sheets folded in half to make the individual pages. We often used colored sheets — pink, blue, orange, green and yellow were our favorites — to give the Joint Issue a fresher look. Sometimes we used colored ink to highlight important stories.

Impco Graphics of Mason was our printer. Denny Preston, the local artist and musician who created the LugNuts logo, designed ours.

Joint Issue began publishing during the year Hewlett-Packard marketed the first hand-held calculators to the public. Like the HP calculator — able only to multiply and divide — Joint Issue faced technical hurdles of its own. Personal computers hadn’t yet been invented, so each page had to be painstakingly laid out by hand.

We typed up the copy on paper sheets with an actual Smith-Corona typewriter (remember those?), cut the typewritten sheets into usable bite-size pieces with scissors or exacto-knives, slopped on the glue with brushes or fingers, and carefully tweezered the pieces into location onto white cardboard layout sheets hanging on clotheslines in our basement office.  

We pasted cool graphics (pictures) we scissored (if we had to) from books and magazines (expensive!) or we got them from our volunteers and donors. Sometimes a picture or piece of text would fall off the copy-sheet before it made it to Impco Graphics in Mason to be published. Someone might shove a piece of text into an inappropriate location. Shit happened.

But that was its charm and our purpose. We weren’t supposed to be a polished publication put out by an aristocracy trying to sell poisons to the public. Joint Issue was a people’s paper published by common people without an internet, Facebook, or Instagram. 

Our first issues, like the one featured below, were crude. But over time the sophistication of Joint Issue grew and its reputation as a reliable chronicler of what was happening in the street became established.

Billy Lee

Note: to magnify photos for reading, click on individual photo. Some pages are out of sequence. 

Joint Issue 1971-01-04 page 01
Cover page
Joint Issue 1971-01-04 page 02
Joint Issue 1971-01-04 page 02
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Joint Issue 1971-01-04 page 14
Joint Issue 1971-01-04 page 14
Joint Issue 1971-01-04 page 15
Joint Issue 1971-01-04 page 15
Joint Issue 1971-01-04 page 16
Joint Issue 1971-01-04 page 16