From The
Archives Of “American Left History”-An Analysis And A Summing Up After His
First Year By Site Manager Greg Green
November 14,
2018 marked the first anniversary of my officially becoming site manager at
this publication and in acknowledgement of that tight touch first year I
started going back to the archives here from the time this publication went to
totally on-line existence due to financial considerations in 2006. (Previously
from its inception in 1974 it had been hard copy for many years and then in the
early 2000s was both hard copy and on-line before turning solely to on-line
publication.) This first year has been hard starting with the residue of the
“water-cooler fist fight” started by some of the younger writers who balked at
the incessant coverage of the 1960s, highlighted in 2017 by the 50th
anniversary commemorations of the Summer of Love, 1967 ordered by previous site
manager Allan Jackson.
They had not even been born, had had to consult in many
cases parents and the older writers here when Allan assigned them say a review
of the Jefferson Airplane rock band which dominated the San Francisco scene at
the height of the 1960s. That balking led to a decisive vote of “no confidence”
requested by the “youth cabal” in the Jackson regime and replacement by me. You
can read all about the various “takes” on the situation in these very archives
from the fall of 2017 on if you can stand it. If you want to know if Allan was
“purged,” “sent into exile,” variously ran a whorehouse in San Francisco with
old flame Madame LaRue or shacked up with a drag queen named Miss Judy Garland
or sold out to the Mormons to get a press agent job with the Mitt Romney for
Senate campaign after he left here it is all there. I, having been brought in
by Allan from American Film Gazette
to run the day to day operations as he concentrated on “the big picture” stayed
on the sidelines, didn’t have a vote in any case since I was only on
“probation.”
A lot of the
rocky road I faced was of my own making early on since to make my mark, and to
look toward the future I came up with what even I now see as a silly idea of
trying to reach a younger demographic (than the 1960s devotees who have
sustained this publication since its founding). I went on a crash program of
having writers, young and old, do reviews of Marvel/DC cinematic comic book
characters, graphic novels, hip-hop, techno music and such. The blow-back came
fast and furious by young and old writers alike and so the Editorial Board that
had been put in place in the wake of Allan’s departure called a halt to that
direction. A lot of the reasons why I am presenting the archival material along
with this piece is both to see where we can go from here that makes sense to
the Ed Board and through that body the cohort of writers who grace this
publication and which deals with the reality of a fading demographic as the
“Generation of ’68” passes on. Additionally, like every publication hard copy
or on-line, we receive much material we can’t or won’t use although that too
falls into the archives so here is a chance to give that material a “second
life.”
**********
When one, me,
glanced through the archives I was struck almost immediately that the ghost of
Peter Paul Markin hovers over this publication and won’t give up, at least it
appears until the older writers who knew him, who caught the fresh breeze he
had early on in 1960s predicted was on its way and acted with him on it pass
on. At least one, Sam Lowell, who had known Markin from elementary school
days (they always call him the Scribe
among themselves , a corner boy nickname, moniker they gave him for always
writing something down on the tattered notepad he carried in his out of fashion
plaid shirts along with some wizened pencil but I will stick with Markin to
avoid confusion ) has been working his ass off since the founding to link
Markin to the purpose of this publication-the preservation of the memories of
the political, social, economic and cultural movements that animated their
times, that “Generation of’ 68” that caught Allan Jackson short when he tried
to single-handedly revive the times out of some serious hubris, earlier and
later movements which linked into that time.
A lot of
“water cooler” talk, first heard by me from Laura Perkins, Sam’s long-time
companion and a recent and welcome addition to the writers’ stable here, was
that the whole idea of a then hard copy publication had been hatched in one
last desperate effort to save Markin’s sagging life by letting him write
reviews, music, film, books, cultural events which they would “piggyback” onto.
Stuff they all were in varying degrees good at. It was not to be, as looking at
a small memorial book in Markin’s honor put together by younger writer Zack
James in the summer of 2017 at the urging of his oldest brother Alex, another
close Markin friend, after he had come back from viewing a Summer of Love, 1967
exhibition at the de Young Museum out in San Francisco graphically illustrated.
There, almost to a man, and it was a man’s recollections memoir, Markin’s
corner boys from the growing up Acre section of North Adamsville and a few
others like Josh Breslin met along the way, comment on Markin’s deterioration,
his increasing addition to cocaine when that became the drug of the month among
the “hip” in the mid-1970s. Sam commented that Markin, and to a certain extent
the other Acre corner boys as well including himself, never got over their
military experiences in Vietnam and maybe a bigger push his from hunger
“wanting” habits from growing up dirt poor down in the mud of society. I won’t
go into the details, such as they are since everybody who has tried was warned
off so the details are to say the least sketchy, of Markin’s end except he now
is down in some potters’ field plot in Sonora, Mexico after having been
murdered in some dirty dusty back road over what is still presumed to have been
a busted drug deal Markin was trying to put together to get on “easy street”
once he saw what was good about the 1960s fading before his very eyes.
I have not
gone through the hard copy archives and I am not sure I will get a chance to
since they are located in New York City and I am not sure when I will be able
to spent at least a week looking through them, dusting off old year volumes and
other materials so I will let it rip in no particular order but what comes to
mind about what has been written, political clearing house advertised, and
commemorated in this space as I have ventured to gather what the heck has gone
on here for the past decade plus of the on-line work. The overarching comment
though is that patchwork quilt or not it has stayed pretty close to what it had
in the masthead stated it intended to do-without much, or too much
bloodshed.
You can tell,
number-wise and number of pages that 2006 was a year when the financial crunch
which necessitated the complete switch-over to on-line publication really was a
wrenching process. The pieces are too-heavily weighted toward book, film, music
reviews and an overlay of political commentary when Frank Jackman had to take a
part-time job working at National
Commentary. I can disclose here that many of the writers, guys like Si
Lannon, Seth Garth, Fritz Taylor, even Josh Breslin were “moonlighting” when I
ran things over at American Film Gazette
which despite its’ name reviewed all kind of things including consumer products
(not my decision but that was that). Or they were submitting the reviews they
wrote here for free (no money in any case) and then submitting them over to me
for cold hard cash. I was going to say they were double-dipping but that would
imply they were being paid here for their work which generally was hit or miss.
I did not know the financial situation here although I was glad to have the
reviews whatever was happening here. Paid my cash and got my due.
I am not
exactly sure when the shift toward lots of personal pieces about the 1960s and
reviews of earlier books, films music connected with those times became a
serious trend under the former head, Allan Jackson, but you can see by browsing
the archives that 2006 is definite trend-setter. Not only that but once again
by virtue of “water-cooler” gossip shifting slightly that way grabbed a spike
in readership and more revenue. So Allan, who later, who in 2017 would be
skewered for his 24/7/365 nostalgia blanket coverage, made a good decision then
to move away from reviews of more contemporary cultural events. Interestingly
he got into a “pissing” contest when he had Si Lannon, sorry Si if I am
mistaken, do a series of 1960s folksingers who were “not Bob Dylan,” did not go
on to what has become a never-ending concert tour schedule and career but moved
elsewhere or kept their ambitions low when the so-called folk minute passed by
and it did not look like they could survive on the thin gruel left. I heard
that there was almost an insurrection with say Seth Garth wondering why his old
sidekick folksinger/songwriter Erick Saint Jean was not highlighted (meaning
what didn’t he get that assignment to explain why Erick went on to a successful
art career rather than grind out the dimes and donuts coffeehouse circuit
rapidly fading away in the acid rock night). Half these guys, according to Sam,
hated folk music when, guess who, Markin is right, started going to Harvard
Square on the low to get the hell out of his horrible homelife and really only
accidently gravitated to the coffeehouse when guys and gals he would meet late
at night at the Hayes-Bickford told him that was where the action was. Not the
H-B itself though which was for winos and con men, maybe a hang-out for a while
after the coffeehouses closed down and you still were trying to figure out what
was what with some girl you wanted to take down to the Charles River to see
what was really what.
From what I
can gather Markin was a guy who was all in or forget it so once he had some
dough, some dough when the guy caddied for some swanks at some country club to
get dough to meet the cover charge, grab some coffee, grab a date’s bill and
throw some money in the basket for the performer whose life depended on those
proceeds then tried to get everybody in. Seth Garth to this day cannot stand
the Dylan voice, cannot stand the silly lyrics about lost loves and doing
bodily harm if some dish did not reciprocate your devotion and you dunked her
in say the Ohio River. Be that as it may I noticed a definite spike in sales
and ad revenue when that series ran since Allan must have highlighted every guy
who could handle three chords and some basic melody-guys like Lemon Lewis and
Ben Amos, guys who about three people have heard of. He had though as Sam loves
to say a “hook” no question as even people who never heard the singers took
interest in where they landed, if they landed. Maybe this says it better than
anything else Allan decided to run the distaff side, okay, woman of folk
playing off of the anointed queen, anointed at least in the tabloids, Joan
Baez.
It is hard to
say what will drive the nuts and bolts of a publication but I think I can see
something like a clear line when Allan decided to do “nostalgia” and let the
writers he had at the time who were all, I think all, veterans of the 1960s or
like beautiful Zack James were influenced by older brother Alex who was
knee-down into that period which created some stability for the publication in
the post-2006 period. That Bob Dylan-Joan Baez spike got the ball rolling even
further back to the time of classic rock and roll and all that meant to the
veteran writers who sucked up the air with their recollections and received
plenty of attention (and a couple of awards) for their work. How much of it was
to gather in their regrets about Markin and how much was natural going back to
the music you grew up with which never really leaves you is hard to say but the
spike in interest of the old Acre section of North Adamsville where most of the
action takes place is interesting.
It must have
been exciting, separate, hard-scrabble, cagey in those days when each guy, and
it was all guys in those days, the girls, young women were kind of appendages,
important appendages but appendages nevertheless reflecting not only that
coming of age awkwardness but a kind of unwritten law established by Markin who
was trying even then, even in high school to emulate the “beats” the guys who
came up the line just before them and who were popular figures like Jack
Kerouac and Allan Ginsberg even as the “beats” were in retreat. (Seth Garth
told me that Markin never mentioned those guys when they were out in the corner
boy night but he was reading their stuff, including pretty openly gay Ginsberg
which would have closed the door if he had mentioned that to the boyos.) These
guys from nowhere had a certain routine, a certain laundry- list of things they
talked about, adventures they got into (including the always veiled mention of
certain burglaries to get dough which was one way they did it). Rock and roll,
music, music that spoke to that generation perhaps more than any earlier one
and certainly more than in my own generation one generation removed from the
classic days of the genre.
No question
these guys lived and died for the music, hanging out not by chance at a pizza
parlor where the owner had installed a jukebox with all the latest hits to draw
the kids in-and he did. Taking the boys in because if boys were hanging around
then girls, the ones with money, the ones who came in and played the machine
would come by too. Nice move but also the source of many interesting stories
about how the guys would con the girls to play music they, the guys wanted to
hear. Conned them, the girls out of other stuff too if you believe half of what
memories they have decided to share knowing from my own experiences in a very
different environment that lying was a matter of honor on the question of
sexual conquests. The funniest part is that for all his leadership, so-called,
his intelligence about what was going on in school, with girls with, guys who
had girlfriends, more importantly, girls with boyfriends, invaluable
intelligence no question and would make any such person if he or she had
existed in my crowd a leader, never really had dates with Acre or North
Adamsville girls when he was a corner boy. He would find companionship in Harvard
Square or some such place but not at home.
As anybody with
eyes can see, even with the temporary disaster of the “dumbing down” action I
initiated and blew off when the deal went down this past year has been heavy with
political material, some additional art material and a big push on commemorating
100th anniversary the last year of the horrendous World War I and
the armistice which put everything on hold as it turned out. Since I agree that
we are essentially in the middle of a cold civil war which may very likely turn
hot before our eyes we will be amping up our political coverage anchored by award-winning
Frank Jackman interspersed with additional art and poetry reviews to augment
the films, music and book reviews the reader is already familiar with and will
hopefully appreciate with our stable of younger writers taking the lead.
