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Politics, music, and fashion

[April 28, 1968] Chimes of Freedom or Rivers of Blood? (Race Relations in the UK)

[If you saw To Sir with Love or read the book on which it's based, you know that the protagonist very quickly learned that racism was alive and well in the UK, just more often hidden behind a handshake than a white sheet. But read on, and you'll see that bigotry in the UK is also right in plain sight…]


by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

Martin Luther King. shortly before his death

It has been over three weeks since the horrific assassination of Martin Luther King in Memphis, Tennessee, and it has continued to cast a focus on the Black Americans’ struggle for equal rights.

I, however, want to talk about an area that has not got as much focus here at the Journey. The current state of Race Relations in Britain.

The Long Arc of History

Whilst Black and Asian people have been recorded in Britain for centuries it is only in the last few decades that the numbers have been more than minuscule. This started first with the arrival of servicemen from across the Empire during the Second World War.

SS Windrush

After the war ended, there was encouragement for people across the Empire to come to Britain to help with jobs, particularly in the newly nationalised transport and health sectors. Notable was the arrival of SS Windrush in June 1948, carrying 500 people from Jamaica.

This continued to increase in 1952, following the passing of the restrictive McCarran-Walter Act in the US, and the expansion of British passport availability in India in 1960. In response the Conservative government passed the Commonwealth Immigrants Act on 1st July 1962, adding quotas to immigrants from “New Commonwealth countries” (which, coincidentally, happen to be predominantly non-white).

Black Man looking at sign in window saying: "To Let: No Coloureds Need Apply"

Life has not been easy for many immigrants. An unofficial colour bar exists that stops them from receiving service, getting jobs or fair housing. Meanwhile, racist attacks took place at the end of August 1958, in both Nottingham and London, over the relationship between a black man and a white woman (and where police did little to intervene).

In spite of this, middle class white liberals could pretend that things were only temporary and would improve soon. Racist attacks were condemned by even the old-fashioned judges and right-wing press, non-violent protests like The Bristol Bus Boycott helped produce some change, and the incoming Labour Government had promised to end the Commonwealth Immigrants Act.

But this all changed with Smethwick.

If You Want A Racist For A Neighbour, Vote Tory

Campaign leaflet for Smethwick in 1964 reading: "Face The Facts: If you desire a coloured for your neighbour, vote Labour If you are already burdoned with one, vote Tory. The Conservatives once in Office will bring up the Ministry of Repatriation, to speed up the return of home-going and expelled immigrants."
Campaign leaflet for Smethwick in 1964

After scandals, stagnation and economic troubles it seemed obvious Labour would get in to power. One seat that would not seem to be of much notice was Smethwick, an industrial town near Birmingham held by Labour for almost 20 years with the Shadow Foreign Secretary as the MP with a comfortable 9 point majority.

However, Peter Griffiths was chosen as the candidate for the Conservative Party and ran on an anti-immigration platform, with supporters putting up posters with intents such as “Keep Britain White”. Whilst they were not distributed by the party, Griffiths (and indeed the central party) stated that they would not condemn people making these statements.

Griffiths out campaigning.
Griffiths out campaigning.

On election night, even though the whole country swung towards Labour by 6%, Griffiths won Smethwick by almost 2000 votes. Although some have suggested that this may have owed more to a resurgent Liberal Party candidate standing there for the first time since 1929 resulting in a vote split, at the very least it is certain that racist messaging did not put anyone off voting for Griffiths.

Spraypainted on a wall "Get Out N-Word"
Racist graffiti in Smethwick

So, it was now impossible for anyone to truly pretend Britain was not a racist society. This had profound effects on Britain, the most obvious and immediate to the incoming Labour Government.

An Unsuccessful Balancing Act

Although winning the election, the loss of Smethwick, and gaining a majority of only 4, changed the direction of the Labour party. Not only was the policy of revoking the Commonwealth Immigrants Act dropped, in 1965 the quotas were tightened even further.

Times Cartoon criticising the competition to be the most anti-immigrant politician by showing three politicians on a podium in positions 1, 2 and 3
Cartoon in the Times criticising the competition to be the most anti-immigrant politician.

This was taken a step further earlier this year. Following the policies of Jomo Kenyatta, many Asians were fleeing from Kenya for refuge in Britain. After scare stories appearing about this, a new Commonwealth Immigrants Act was passed requiring demonstration of a “close connection” to Britain. Even the more right leaning publications condemned this move.

At the same time, the government attempted to address some of the concerns of the Black and Asian communities by instituting the Race Relations Act of 1965. This made it a civil offence to bar service or be discriminatory in this service to anyone on the grounds of “colour, race, ethic or national origin”. In addition it made Incitement to Racial Hatred a criminal offence.

However, the impact of this has been limited. It only covers discrimination in “places of public resort”, such as pubs or hotels, and leaves out key areas, such as housing, jobs and finance. In addition, the Race Relations boards created to oversee complaints have been set up very slowly and, those that are in existence, have proved incapable of making any meaningful impact in most cases.

British Nazi Colin Jordan with his Francoise in 1965
British Nazi Colin Jordan with his wife Francoise in 1965

Although there have been some prosecutions on the grounds of Incitement to Racial Hatred, these have been few and far between, and were probably not what the affected communities were wanting. Whilst the leader of the British Nazi Party was sentenced to 18 months in prison on his second offence after distributing leaflets entitled “The Coloured Invasion” (he was fined previously for inciting arson on synagogues) other prosecutions have not been as successful. Christopher Britton was originally convicted for sticking a pamphlet to an MPs door saying “Black Not Wanted”, but this was quashed on the grounds that MPs and their families could not be treated the same way as the general public. And a group distributing a racist newspaper were not convicted on the grounds that the area they were distributing it in was predominantly White.

At the same time, harsh sentences have been handed out to Black activists for hyperbolic speeches. Michael X is in prison for describing White people as “nasty and vicious” and Roy Sawh was convicted for saying “we must band together and kill the White man” (more on both these people later). Given that during the passing of the act MPs asked questions to ensure that Black people could be prosecuted for making such statements, I cannot help but think this is not so much a flaw, but rather by design.

If Harold Wilson’s aim was to appease black activists and declaw the far-right, then he has utterly failed. The former seem to be more outraged and the latter emboldened.

The Whip Hand

If the government was in retreat after Smethwick, racist groups were in advance. In the election's aftermath, the British Ku Klux Klan was formed in Birmingham and cross burnings were reported that summer in towns only a couple of miles from Smethwick.

On the more overt political front, a merger of smaller far-right political groups, The League of Empire Loyalist, The British National Party and some parts of the Racial Preservation Society, have formed the National Front. This party is to attempt to be a more serious electoral force than previous groups, standing on a platform of “repatriation” of non-white people and supporting South African and Rhodesian governments.

Enoch Powell making The Rivers of Blood speech
Powell making his infamous speech

These events were, however, merely small rumblings of the main event to come out of Birmingham this month. Conservative Shadow Cabinet member Enoch Powell made the most incendiary speech made by any major MP in my lifetime, responding to the current debates on expanding the current Race Relations Act (predominantly designed to extend coverage to private property). Pulling out a couple of quotes to give you a flavour of his arguments:

“It is like watching a nation busily engaged in heaping up its own funeral pyre. So insane are we that we actually permit unmarried persons to immigrate for the purpose of founding a family with spouses and fiancés whom they have never seen.”

“For these dangerous and divisive elements the legislation proposed in the Race Relations Bill is the very pabulum they need to flourish. Here is the means of showing that the immigrant communities can organise to consolidate their members, to agitate and campaign against their fellow citizens, and to overawe and dominate the rest with the legal weapons which the ignorant and the ill-informed have provided. As I look ahead, I am filled with foreboding; like the Roman, I seem to see "the River Tiber foaming with much blood.""

Coming from such a high-profile MP, this has been front page news ever since, and the reactions have exposed a split in British society.

Powell was immediately fired from the shadow Cabinet and leaders of the three major parties condemned his speech, with an MP from his own party saying he has become the George Wallace of Britain. It should not be forgotten, however, that the Alabama Governor has supporters.

Many members of his own party also praised Powell’s speech for “raising important issues” and his own local party membership affirmed support of him (although given a club in his town officially voted to allow only white members, Wolverhampton is proving to be one of the less progressive areas of the country).

Just some of the many pro-Powell marchers with signs saying: "We Back Enoch" and "Smithfield backs Enoch"
Just some of the many pro-Powell marchers

More troubling is that some workers have gone on strike to show their opposition to Powell’s suspension, and over 1,000 Dock Workers marched to parliament holding up slogans such as “Don’t knock Enoch”.

Opinions polls on this issue appear to be all over the place. Before Powell’s speech, one showed 58% of people agreed with the provisions of the new Race Relations Act. However, in the immediate aftermath one reportedly showed that 74% of the population agreed with the content of Powell’s speech. Whilst it is possible a third of the population drastically changed their opinions, I think it is more likely that there is a large section of the British public that hold contradictory views about race and equality, and it will depend how you ask the question.

However, it should not be thought that the minority populations of the UK have been sitting passively whilst this has been happening. Many have been looking to fight back!

I'm Going to Build Me a Heaven of My Own

Martin Luther King in London 1964 walking through a park whilst onlookers watch from a bench.
Martin Luther King in London 1964

As it was impossible to deny that Britain wasn't immune to the racism seen in America, the first ideas were for an American style response. Inspired by a visit of Martin Luther King in December 1964, Campaign Against Racial Discrimination (CARD) was formed. Designed to be a broad organisation like NAACP or SCLC in the US.

Although it has been one of the largest organisations pushing for racial equality and at the forefront of media coverage, it has not proved as effective as the American equivalents for a few reasons. First off, rather than external direct action, it has focused on lobbying and had strong connections with Members of Parliament, as such it has been seen by some as the voice of the establishment. Secondly, whilst there have been some important organisations working with CARD (most notably the Indian Workers Association) there is simply not the breadth of pre-existing groups in the UK compared to the US, primarily because many of the people affected have only been in the country for less than a decade. Finally, many of the leadership members were White and the overwhelming majority of them were middle class. As such, they could often be seen as coming from a privileged position compared with the average Black person.*

*NB: Unless the group is specified otherwise I will often be using "Black" as a signifier of non-White membership. The reason for this is that membership of explicitly Black groups commonly consists of many Asian people along with other ethnicities. It has come in the UK to have a political meaning among these groups beyond claiming African heritage.

Malcolm X in Smethwick
Malcolm X in Smethwick

Martin Luther King was not the only major American civil rights figure to visit Britain in the aftermath of the Smethwick election. Malcolm X came to the UK in February 1965 and even took time in his schedule to visit the constituency, following an invitation from the IWA. Whilst he was tragically assassinated 9 days later, his visit had an impact on many.

Michael X at the Dialectics of Liberation Congress
Michael X at the Dialectics of Liberation Congress

One such person is Michael X (taking his name from his hero) who heard Malcolm speak and was inspired to found his own organisation, the Racial Adjustment Action Society (RAAS). Whilst his organisation remained small, it had an outsized impact thanks to Michael’s ability to court press coverage, such as getting the Nation of Islam to employ him as a chaperone to Muhammed Ali in 1966, and running of local social welfare programmes, such as a day nursery and black barbers. If the authorities hoped his arrest would reduce his profile, this backfired enormously. Even those Black activists who previously criticised him as self-aggrandizing are angry at his unjust imprisonment.

There has been a further growth in Black British civil rights groups starting last summer. The first, and perhaps most important of these, has been the formation of the Universal Coloured People’s Association (UCPA) by Obi Egbuna. Egbuna is a playwright and activist who had been part of Committee of African Organisations that had organised Malcolm X’s trip to Britain. Partially inspired by what he had seen at SNCC in America, Egbuna wanted the same kind of energy in the British scene.

Stokely Carmichael speaking at Dialectics of Liberation
Stokely Carmichael speaking at Dialectics of Liberation

This was formed around the same time as the Dialectics of Liberation took place in London: a two-week event that hosted many major figures from the US counterculture. One such speaker was the major figure in the Civil Rights movement, Stokely Carmichael. Even though he was asked to leave the country and had to cancel a planned meeting with RAAS, his influence was keenly felt.

UCPA Leaflet named: Black Power in Britain: A Special Statement by Universal Coloured People's Association. On the cover is a Black Panther symbol
Just a few weeks afterwards the UCPA published Black Power in Britain. Inside we can see how far they are from the more establishment lobbying approach taken by CARD:

We know the only difference between the Ian Smiths and Harold Wilsons of the white world is not a difference in principle but a difference in tactics, it is not a quarrel between fascism and anti-fascism but a quarrel between frankness and hypocrisy with a fascist framework.

The Black Panther on the cover is not merely stylistic, either. Inside they also contain their own ten-point programme and Egbuna recently broke away to form The British Black Panther Party. (Its former deputy Roy Sawh had also broken away to form United Coloured People and Arab Association before his arrest).

Perhaps the biggest sign of this new militant stance among some in the Black community was also in July last year, at CARD’s annual meeting. There, the members voted off the entire leadership panel and they were replaced by more radical activists.

It should be noted that when I use the terms “radical” and “militant”, I am merely talking in terms of a contrast with the mainstream white liberal efforts for equality via the legislative route. There has been no evidence of any violence or plans for revolution among any that have been investigated and we are certainly far away from any attempts at armed struggle.

Instead, they are primarily concerned with setting up their own support networks where they feel the system has let them down. Islington’s branch of CARD sends out unarmed groups to patrol the streets in order to help lower crime and monitor incidents of police misconduct. Self-defence classes in martial arts have been created to ensure young black people can hold their own against racist attackers, but not for any attacks of their own. Social programmes like those set up by RAAS are being expanded by other groups.

Even with all these groups and splits there does not appear to be any evidence of factionalism yet. Today there has been the announcement of the formation of the Black People’s Alliance where a variety of ethnicities and issues are to be addressed without conflict, whether those be domestic or international. Another important point to note is that whilst inspiration is taken from American movements, these are not merely Xeroxed. Many of those involved also take from their own experiences, anti-colonial movements and even touches of Maoism.

Where to now?

Sikhs march in Wolverhampton
Sikhs march in Wolverhampton

Whilst reactionary groups and Black Power advocates indeed seem to be gathering strength, it should be noted that neither yet appear to reflect broad swathes of the population. Most of the above mentioned civil rights groups have only small membership to date and the thousand London dock workers marching for Enoch were dwarfed by the four thousand Sikhs peacefully marching in his own constituency to allow bus drivers to keep beards and turbans for religious reasons.

And although the problematic Asian Kenyan Immigration bill passed, so did the Race Relations Act that Powell so objected to. In addition, recently Harold Wilson has been hinting extra funding would be going to areas with larger non-white populations in order to help address some of the problems seen by its residents.

A scene from recent drama Rainbow City
A scene from recent drama Rainbow City

Given that last year we had the airing of the first British drama series with a predominantly Black cast (the wonderful Rainbow City) and Tyne Tees TV employed Clyde Alleyne as the first black reporter [not to mention Fariah in a recent Doctor Who serial (ed.)], is the slow and steady approach going to be the one that wins out? Or is a more radical approach the one that is required?

I am sure we will find out soon. As an article on the subject in The Times said:

For black men are not simply in search of power. They are also in search of justice.






[April 14, 1968] In Unquiet Times: The Frankfurt Arson Attacks, the Shooting of Rudi Dutschke and Electronic Labyrinth THX-1138 4EB


by Cora Buhlert

Another Annus Horribilis

1967 was a terrible year of unrest and violence. So far, 1968 seems to follow suit, especially considering the horrible events in Memphis, Tennessee, last week.

Regular readers may remember my article about the devastating (and still unresolved) fire at the À l'innovation department store in Brussels last year. I expressed my disgust at the pamphlets distributed by the leftist activist group and alternative living experiment Kommune 1 in West Berlin. The Kommune 1 members not only expressed their glee that a department store full of people, whose sole crime was caring more about shopping than the war in Vietnam, burned down, but also hoped that more department stores would burn.

The West Berlin police viewed those pamphlets the same way I did, namely as a threat and incitement to arson. Therefore, two Kommune 1 members, Fritz Teufel and Rainer Langhans (who ironically are not even the people who claimed responsibility for the pamphlets) were arrested and tried for incitement to violence and arson. That trial concluded last month, when a judge acquitted Teufel and Langhans, accepting their explanation that the pamphlets were satire and never intended to be taken seriously.

Fritz Teufel and Rainer Langhans in court
Kommune 1 members Fritz Teufel and Rainer Langhans in court

It is possible that the Kommune 1 intended the pamphlets as satire, albeit in very bad taste. However, even if the pamphlets were intended as satire, there was always the risk that someone might take them seriously.

And then someone did…

Flames in Frankfurt

On the evening of April 2nd, the phone rang at the office of the press agency dpa in Frankfurt on Main. A woman's voice announced that fires would start in the Kaufhof and M. Schneider department stores as an act of political vengeance. Shortly thereafter, homemade incendiary devices ignited in the bedding and toy departments of Kaufhof and the women's wear and furniture departments of M. Schneider respectively.

Kaufhof in Frankfurt on Main
The Kaufhof department store in Frankfurt on Main.
M. Schneider department store
The M. Schneider department store in Frankfurt on Main decked out with Christmas lights.

Thankfully, the human and financial toll of the Frankfurt fires was far lower than that of the À l'innovation fire in Brussels. The arsonists used timers to make sure that the incendiary devices ignited after hours, when the stores were closed and the only person inside the building was the night watchman (who escaped with minor injuries).

Furthermore, the Kaufhof and M. Schneider stores, built in 1948 and 1954 respectively, are far more modern and safer than the seventy-year-old À l'innovation building. Unlike À l'innovation, both stores were equipped with sprinkler systems – something the arsonists were not aware of – and the fires were quickly extinguished, though they still caused considerable damages of approx. 282000 Deutschmarks at Schneider and 390000 Deutschmarks at Kaufhof.

Burnt cupboard at M. Schneider
Aftermath of the arson attack at M. Schneider: Even if it is a very ugly cupboard, that's no reason to burn it down.
Aftermath of the arson attack at Kaufhof
Police officers survey the aftermath of the arson attack at Kaufhof.

But who were the arsonists? Witnesses remembered a suspicious young couple and two young men hurrying up the escalators shortly before closing time. The same young couple was later seen in a student bar, celebrating and bragging. And so four suspects were arrested only two days later: twenty-four-year-old Andreas Baader, charismatic, bisexual, a failed artist with a history of car theft, who used to hang out with the members of the Kommune 1, twenty-seven-year-old Gudrun Ensslin, a clergyman's daughter from Stuttgart, student of German literature at the Free University of (West) Berlin, Marxist, occasional actress and publisher of poetry chapbooks, mother of a one-year-old son and current lover of Andreas Baader (who is not the father of her son), twenty-six-year-old Thorwald Proll, also a student of German literature and friend of Baader's and the Kommune 1 members, and twenty-four-year-old Horst Söhnlein, who runs an alternative theatre in Munich, which he trashed shortly before he was arrested, because he feared that his rival Rainer Werner Fassbinder would take it over.

Andreas Baader
Alleged arsonist Andreas Baader lounging in a café.
Gudrun Ensslin
Alleged arsonist Gudrun Ensslin

The common denominators that connect the four suspects are the Kommune 1 as well as Andreas Baader. People familiar with the West Berlin activist scene have told me that Baader is desperate to impress the Kommune 1 members, who don't particularly like him. So even if those disgusting pamphlets were intended to be satire, as Fritz Teufel and Rainer Langhans claimed in court, they did inspire four young people to commit a serious crime.

Public Enemy Number 1

Axel Springer headquarters in West Berlin
The ultra-modern headquarters of the Axel Springer Verlag in West Berlin, directly at the Wall.

However, the Kommune 1 are not the only ones who are using the written word to incite violence. Sadly, the West German tabloid press is no better. Of particular note are the various newspapers of the Axel Springer Verlag, including their flagship quality paper Welt and Bild, West Germany's biggest tabloid, sold at every newsstand, in every tobacco shop and every bakery in the country.

Bild editorial "Stoppt den Terror der Jung-Roten!"
One of the nastier Bild editorials demands: "Stop the Terror of the Young Reds".

Like all tabloids, Bild specialises in sensationalistic headlines that tap into the fears and desires of the West German population. Right now, a lot of older and conservative West Germans have decided that protesting students are to be feared. Bild as well as the other Springer papers feed those fears with lurid headlines, angry editorials with titles such as "Stop the terror of the young reds!" and political cartoons that frequently cross the line of good taste, all aimed at the supposed menace of left-wing student protesters.

Dispossession political cartoon
This political cartoon in Bild responds to the "Dispossess Springer" campaign by offering suggestions whom else to dispossess
Walter Ulbricht political cartoon
This political cartoon from Bild shows the spirit of East German socialist party chairman Walter Ulbricht marching with the student protesters.
Bild political cartoon 1968
In this Bild editorial cartoon, two long-haired students wonder if they, too, will make it into the papers, if they riot enough.
Political cartoon 1968
Officials of the far right party NPD praise student protesters as their best election campaigners.
Political cartoon 1938 and 1968
In a remarkable feat of mental contortion, this Bild cartoonist equates left-wing student protesters with Nazis attacking Jewish businesses during Reichskristallnacht in 1938.

Bild and the other Springer papers have singled out one man in particular as the chief menace to society, namely twenty-eight-year-old Rudi Dutschke. Originally from East Germany, Dutschke's idealistic and pacifistic Christian Marxism quickly clashed with the real existing Socialism of the German Democratic Republic. Only three days before the building of the Berlin Wall, Dutschke fled to West Berlin. He found work as a sports reporter for the tabloid B.Z., ironically owned by the Axel Springer Verlag. He began studying sociology, philosophy and history at the Free University of (West) Berlin, where he quickly became involved in the activist scene and joined the left-wing student organisation Sozialistischer Deutscher Studentenbund SDS.

Rudi Dutschke
Student activist Rudi Dutschke speaks at a protest march.
Rudi Dutschke political cartoon
This political cartoon in Bild shows Rudi Dutschke standing on his head and wondering why everybody else is wrong.
Rudi Dutschke in Hitler pose
This editorial cartoon in Bild shows Rudi Dutschke in Hitler pose. Just in case there was any doubt about the cartoonist's intentions, the letters "SDS" on Dutschke's belt are styled like SS runes.
Rudi Dutschke scientists
In this Bild political cartoon, rendered even more tasteless by recent events, several doctors try to peer into Rudi Dutschke's head to find out what's wrong with him.

Rudi Dutschke is not the most violent or radical of the West Berlin student activists, but he is the most visible, taking part in every protest and relentlessly organising marches, meetings and discussions. He was invited to join the Kommune 1, hub of the West Berlin activist scene, but declined, preferring a more traditional family life with his American wife Gretchen and their infant son Hosea Che. Dutschke also knows the Frankfurt arsonists and is the godfather of Gudrun Ensslin's young son, though it is not known if he was aware of their plans. Finally, Dutschke is a charismatic speaker, which is how he ended up in the crosshairs of Bild and became public enemy number 1 to the conservative press.

Rudi Dutschke in Amsterdam
Rudi Dutschke earlier this year at a peace protest in Amsterdam
Rudi Duschke wedding
Happier times: Rudi Dutschke and his American wife Gretchen at their wedding in 1966.

According to the old saying, "Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never harm me." But, as the Frankfurt arson attacks show, words can incite people to do physical harm. And so the relentless attacks on Dutschke by the tabloid press led to threats and hateful slogans left in the stairwell of the apartment house where Dutschke lives with his young family.

Three days ago, they led to something far worse.

Shots in West Berlin

On April 11th, a young man – later identified as Josef Bachmann, a twenty-three-year-old unskilled labourer from Munich – rang the doorbell of an apartment on the quiet end of West Berlin's Kurfürstendamm boulevard that serves as the headquarters of the Sozialistischer Deutscher Studentenbund. Bachmann asked if Rudi Dutschke was there. The student who answered the door nodded and asked if Bachmann wanted to come in. But Bachmann just shook his head and left.

He loitered on the sidewalk outside the apartment block and waited for Dutschke to emerge. Dutschke only wanted to buy nasal drops for his three-months-old son at a nearby pharmacy and got on his bicycle, when Bachmann approached him. "Are you Rudi Dutschke?"

Dutschke nodded, whereupon Bachmann screamed "Dirty Communist Pig", pulled a gun and shot Dutschke three times, in the head, the neck and the shoulder. Miraculously, Dutschke survived and even managed to walk a few more meters, before he collapsed in front of an undertaker's office. Passers-by quickly came to his aid and lifted Dutschke onto a bench, where he lay calling for his parents, declared that he had to go to the hairdresser and hallucinated something about soldiers. He was taken to hospital and underwent emergency surgery. As of this writing, Rudi Dutschke is still alive, though in critical condition. Even if he survives, he will retain lifelong disabilities.

Rudi Dutschke's bicycle
Aftermath: Rudi Dutschke's bicycle lies on the sidewalk.
Rudi Dutschke shooting site
The police at the scene of the attack on Rudi Dutschke
Rudi Dutschke's shoes where he collapsed
Rudi Dutschke's shoes still lie where he collapsed in this crime scene photo
The spot where Rudi Dutschke collapsed
The place where Rudi Dutschke collapsed, right in front of an undertaker's office. Passers-by lifted him onto the bench, until the ambulance arrived.

Josef Bachmann fled and was eventually cornered by the police in a nearby backyard. Shot rang out and Bachmann was hit, though he, too, survived and is currently in hospital.

Police officers carry off the wounded assassin Josef Bachmann
Police officers carry off the wounded assassin Josef Bachmann.

The Smoking Gun

But who or what persuaded Josef Bachmann to shoot down a complete stranger in the street? To the West Berlin students, the culprit was clear. The various tabloids of the Axel Springer Verlag had incited so much hatred towards Dutschke that they inspired Bachmann to travel from Munich to West Berlin to shoot a man he'd never met.

The truth is more complicated. Bachmann was carrying a newspaper, when he shot Dutschke. However, it was not a Springer paper, but the far right Deutsche National-Zeitung, which contained a Wanted poster style headshot with the headline "Stop Dutschke now!" In Bachmann's home, the police also found a portrait of Adolf Hitler. Furthermore, the Springer papers are not a monolith. The tabloid B.Z. criticised the way its sister papers were turning Dutschke into public enemy number 1. And even Bild expressed their shock over the shooting in an article entitled "Millions fear for Dutschke's life".

The students, however, were too furious about the attempt on Dutschke's life only a week after the murder of Martin Luther King Jr. in Memphis and not even a year after the murder of Benno Ohnesorg to care about nuance. To them, the Springer tabloids had at the very least incited violence, if not helped to fire the gun. And so, protests erupted, first in West Berlin and then all over West Germany.

Protest in Berlin following the shooting of Rudi Dutschke
Students protest in the streets of West Berlin after the shooting of Rudi Dutschke.
"Bild fired, too" protest
Protesters in West Berlin carry a placard declaring that "Bild fired, too".
Student protest in Stuttgart
At this protest in Stuttgart, protesters carry placards comparing the Springer papers Bild and Welt to the Nazi papers Stümer and Völkischer Beobachter, proving that Springer does not have a monopoly on tasteless Nazi comparisons.

In West Berlin, protesters attempted to storm the Springer headquarters, only to find themselves confronted by angry printshop workers, armed with heavy tools. Kommune 1 member Dieter Kunzelmann got stuck in the revolving door of the Springer building, where workers emptied a bucket of red paint over him. When they found that they could not storm the publishing house, the West Berlin protesters torched stacks of newspapers and delivery vehicles. Meanwhile in Munich, protesters trashed the local editorial office of Bild.

Torched Springer delivery trucks
A West Berlin firefighter extinguishes a torched Springer delivery truck.
Overturned Springer delivery vehicles
Overturned Springer delivery vans. Even a van delivering the latest issue of Bravo, an apolitical teen magazine focussed on pop and movie stars, suffered the wrath of the students.
Police officers wade through newspapers
It's raining newspapers. Police offers wade through Springer papers thrown onto the sidewalk by the protesters.
Students attack the Bild office in Munich
In Munich, protesters trashed the editorial offices of Bild.

So far, the protests have spread to twenty-seven West German cities and also abroad and show no sign of stopping. The protesters are no longer just university students either, but high school students, apprentices and workers. As we've seen with other protests in recent years, the police responded with violence, escalating an already volatile situation even further.

Protests in West Berlin 1968
Protesters face off against the police in West Berlin, close to where Rudi Dutschke was shot.
Students protests Berlin 1968
Protesters and police clash in West Berlin.

Protesters attack a police water cannon.

Political Bild cartoon
The political cartoonists of Bild responded to the attacks on their headquarters with this cartoon showing student protesters attacking the Easter Bunny.

Dad's Cinema Is Dead

With West Germany burning and all the terrible things happening here and elsewhere in the world, it's easy to forget that there are bright spots as well. One of those bright spots is the 14th West German Short Film Days in Oberhausen.

14th West German Short Film Day

Poster West German Short Film Days 1968

The West German Short Film Days were founded in Oberhausen, an otherwise unremarkable industrial town in the Ruhrgebiet area, in 1954 as the first film festival in the world focussed solely on short films. The new festival gained international attention for its willingness to show experimental movies by young filmmakers and also as a place where one could see East European movies that have no distribution elsewhere.

The West German Short Film Days also became a flashpoint for radical filmmakers. In 1962, a group of twenty-six young West German filmmakers published the Oberhausen Manifesto, in which they declared "Dad's cinema", i.e. the largely entertainment focussed West German cinema of the postwar era, dead. Unfortunately, this flaming manifesto did not lead to better movies – instead the results were no better than the films the signatories criticised, but infinitely duller. A new group of young filmmakers issued a second manifesto in 1965, in which they criticised the dull problem movies championed by the first manifesto and called for making good and entertaining movies in the style of Howard Hawks and Jean-Luc Goddard. Three years later, this second group has at least made a few decent would-be noir films.

Signatories of the Oberhausen Manifesto
Some signatories of the 1962 Oberhausen Manifesto pose for a photo.

Talking Dicks

This year's festival was beset by controversy as well, when Besonders Wertvoll (Of Special Merit) was pulled at short notice, even though it had been previously approved. The eleven-minute film shows a close-up of a talking penis – portrayed by director Helllmuth Costard or rather his penis – reading out the new West German film grant law, which denies grants to movies deemed obscene. After reading out this very dry subject matter, the penis gets his deserved reward, while director Costard, this time fully clothed, attempts to confront the main sponsor of the bill Hans Toussaint.

Hilmar Hoffmann and Hellmuth Costard Oberhausen
Hilmar Hoffmann, head of the Oberhausen Short Film Festival, and Hellmuth Costard, director of "Besonders Wertvoll". The star of the film is hidden under the table and hopefully pants.

I have seen Besonders Wertvoll at an impromptu screening at the Ruhr University in nearby Bochum. It is clearly satirical and the true nature of the narrator isn't even immediately apparent. However, the festival refused to show the film, whereupon several West German filmmakers and a member of the jury withdrew in protest.

Besonders Wertvoll
A frame of "Besonders Wertvoll", showing the film's unique narrator.

I Have Seen the Future…

But even with several films missing, the 14th West German Short Film Days still offered plenty of interesting and innovative filmmaking.

Oberhausen Short Film Festival 1968
Hilmar Hoffmann, director of the West German Short Film Days, with the three young directors Werner Herzog, Heinz Badewitz and Rudolf Thome on stage.

One film that particularly impressed me is Electronic Labyrinth THX 1138 4EB, a dystopian science fiction film made by a young graduate of the University of Southern California's School of Cinematic Arts named George Lucas.

Eletronic Labyrinth THX 1138 4 EB

Electronic Labyrinth THX 1138 4EB plunges us into the nightmarish future of the year 2187, a world where humans have numbers rather than names tattooed onto their foreheads. The titular THX 1138 4EB (Dan Natchsheim) has been found guilty of the crime of "sexacte". His mate YYO 7117 (Joy Carmichael) is interrogated and denies ever having loved him. The unique naming pattern is based on California licence plates, by the way. THX 1138 happens to be the number of director George Lucas' licence plate, while YYO 7117 is that of Lucas' fiancée.

THX 1138 4 EB
Dan Natchsheim as the titular character of Electronic Labyrinth THX 1138 4EB
THX 1138 4EB
THX 1138 4EB on the run

Meanwhile, THX 1138 4EB is on the run through stark white corridors and what looks like an underground parking garage, tracked by countless cameras monitored by men in white jumpsuits in a white room filled with computers and screens. For most of the film, the only dialogue is the radio communication of the security personnel. They try to thwart THX 1138 4EB's escape, first by subjecting him to a high-pitched noise and then by having a guard attack him. However, THX 1138 4EB forces open a door and runs off into the sunset and hopefully freedom. Meanwhile, a voice informs YYO 7117 that they regret that THX 1138 has destroyed himself and that she may apply for a new mate – of either gender – at any time.

George Lucas THX 1138 4EB
Director George Lucas on the set of Electronic Labyrinth THX 1138 4EB.

Electronic Labyrinth THX 1138 4EB is a neat work of dystopian science fiction that manages to tell a complete and coherent story in only fifteen minutes. The film also shows that it is possible to make a science fiction movie on literally a shoestring budget.

Electronic Labyrinth THX 1138 4EB has already won the National Student Film Award and was also honoured at the West German Short Film Days. As for the talented twenty-three-year-old director George Lucas, he is planning to turn Electronic LabyrinthTHX 1138 4EB into a full-length feature film. I for one will certainly be watching. I'm am also looking forward to whatever Mr. Lucas does next.

Bild & Funk Easter 1968
The world may be terrible, but it's still Easter, so enjoy the cover of the TV magazine "Bild & Funk"
Bild und Funk Raumpatrouille Orion cover
The cover of last week's issue of "Bild und Funk" features some familiar faces, advertising a rerun of "Raumpatrouille Orion". Now where is season 2?





[April 6, 1968] The mountain of despair (the murder of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.)


by Dana Pellebon

On April 4, 1968, my world changed and I wasn’t even aware of how much. My day was as any other. Go to work, come home, make dinner, do a little reading, and go to bed. Yet, on April 5th, the horror of opening my newspaper made my world stop. Front Page. Dr. King Murdered. As the paper slipped from my hands, gravity took my body and the tears now flowing to the floor. Who? How? I tried to read the words on the now wet pages, but I couldn’t escape the feeling of intense pain and sadness. When you’ve lived through a man shepherding you and the world through progress, what does it mean when he’s not here? I ached for his wife and children. I dreaded the moment I had to move my body to figure out what was next.


Civil rights leader Andrew Young (L) and others on balcony of Lorraine motel pointing in direction of assailant after a shot mortally wounded Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  Photograph by Joseph Louw

Somehow I got off the floor to ready myself for work. The bus there was filled with other Negroes like me silently crying. At the next to last stop downtown, a small group of men came on the bus and were very loud about ridding the world of another one of “them”.  I straightened my head, methodically dried my tears, and looked right in their direction. My steel gaze was met with some chagrin on their part and blessed silence. It was in that moment that I knew I would never let another one of them see me cry ever again.

I hear there is a work strike coming up. Already people are mobilizing. There’s rumblings on the radio about the riot in Memphis and DC. I read the words of Robert Kennedy talking about his brother’s death and how he too was killed by a white man. How we should not take this time for violence but instead for compassion. I want to take in these words of reconciliation but my heart is cold and distant from such talk. 

I believed in the dream of Dr. King. Nonviolence begets understanding and peace. He may be targeted but he was special. Malcom X was killed because of who he was. Dr. King would stay alive because of who he was. Or, so I thought. My naïveté was on full display as I realized that him dying was the only inevitable outcome for whites who hated his message. My new understanding that peace and conflict are natural bedmates. As I step into this world without Dr. King, I must ask myself, what is next?

This is the question for the Negro. Without our great Shepherd, how does this flock move through the pasture? Who leads the next part of the movement? What legacy of his can we grab of our own to continue to shape the world into a just and equitable future? I don’t know what the path forward is and how to get there, but I think of the last words Dr. King said the night before he was murdered and I know in this moment and the next and the next, every thing I do will be to realize the vision of our collective promised land. 

“Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land. And I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.”


Dr. King, giving his last speech at Mason Temple, Memphis, on April 3.



by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

When morning finds me, I read the newspaper. Earlier and earlier these days, as my newborn moves towards infancy and begins to make his own dawn schedule.

It was one of Will Roger’s favorite lines: “All I know is just what I read in the papers.” As a Cherokee man born in land that was treaty promised and greed taken, he knew better than most how wrong the press can be. But still, it’s the only first draft of history many of us are privileged to see.

Which is what makes reading it while nursing my baby so strange some days. Like a few weeks ago, when, on a single page, these were the headlines:

  • "Policeman Admits He’s a Klansman"
  • "‘Oakland in 1983: Over Half Negro’"
  • "Commission Warns: Spend Billions or Face Rebellion"
  • "‘Had To Tell It Like It Is’ — Riot Report Jolts Congress"
  • "Policeman’s Lot Not a Happy One"

On mornings like this when decency weeps, a page like that perhaps only has one or two truly true things in it. One, I suspect, is from the "Commission" report breathlessly exaggerated in the headlines, whose full and proper title is “Report of the National Advisory Commission on Civil Disorders;” that commission includes the former Illinois governor Otto Kerner Jr., leading Congressmen from both parties, and Atlanta Police Chief Herbert Jenkins. The paper says of the report:

“For instance, the commission said, belief is widely held that riot cities were paralyzed by sniper fire. Of 23 cities surveyed, there were reports of sniping in 14. And probably there was some sniping, the commission said, but: “According to the best information available to the commission, most reported sniping incidents were demonstrated to be gunfire by either police or National Guardsmen.’”

There’s a lot of passive voice in there, unfortunately common with newspapers’ coddling of police officers’ egos (see the unsourced and useless sob piece in the bottom left hand corner). But those “sniping incidents” included a mother shot in the back and murdered inside her own home during a riot as she tried to pull her 2 year old to safety, away from the glass window.

I hold my baby tighter as I read that.

In another powerful moment, the paper says:

"Asked why the panel made such a hard-hitting report, Harris said: 'We all knew these things intellectually – but we didn't feel it in the pit of our stomachs.

'We want people to see this as we did. We thought we had to tell it like it is.'

Another commissioner returned from a ghetto inspection tour and switched his position on one issue, remarking:

'I'll be a son-of-a-gun. You might be 99 miles further to the left than I thought I would be.'"'

Another bit of truth came from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, as it so often does. He called the report “a monumental revelation of what we had seen since the burning fires of Watts.”

The report laid the blame for the riots on centuries of white racism and systemic lack of funding in Black communities. It prescribed deep and meaningful investment in those communities to try to make back some of the time that was stolen (the “billions” listed in the third headline, as if we don’t spend “billions” in Vietnam every year).

Reports of commissions like that are the second, or even third drafts of history. I suspect they get it right more often than they do not.

I heard on the radio last night that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was shot and murdered in Memphis. The radio report wasn’t even the first draft of history, maybe just the notes for a future draft. Later, Bobby Kennedy came on, said something like:

“My favorite poet was Aeschylus. He wrote: ‘In our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.’”


Robert F. Kennedy, speaking in Indianapolis, April 4.

I don’t know what the headlines will read today or tomorrow or when the killer is caught, if he is caught. A lot of people hate Dr. King, blame him for the riots. God knows the newspapers did in their first drafts. But reports like the Kerner Commission, they tell us the true causes, lay blame at the right doors.

Until then, until we know more about what happened than we read in the newspapers, I’ll stick with Senator Kennedy, who knows at least something about surviving deaths by violence. I'll try to find some wisdom in the awful grace of God. I’ll try to think about one of Will Roger’s other great quotes, “It's not what we don't know that hurts. It’s what we know that ain’t so.”

I’ll keep trying to teach that to my baby, the things I thought I knew from the papers that I now know aren’t so. I'll try to tell it like it is, as much as I can for someone of his small size. And I'll hold him just a little tighter.




by Mona Jones

My husband calls me from the living room. Any other day, I might think him or Big Mama needed a drink of water. But something about his voice sends a shiver down my spine. He calls me again.

“Mona, you better get in here.”

I walk into the living room just in time to hear a recording of Robert Kennedy over the radio say, “Some very sad news for all of you and, I think, sad news for all of our fellow citizens and people who love peace all over the world. And that is that Martin Luther King was shot and was killed tonight in Memphis. . .”

The rest of his words are drowned by the deafening cries of those in attendance of his last-minute press conference. Mabel must sense a change in the air because she leaves her uncle in the kitchen to come wrap her skinny little arms around my waist. “Mama, what’s wrong? Did something bad happen?”

She’s looking up at me for answers and I have no idea what to say. Even if the cries of the people on the air hadn’t drowned on Mr. Kennedy’s voice, I’m sure the blood rushing in my ears would’ve done the same. Thomas walks up to stand in the archway with me as Mr. Kennedy keeps talking.

“Martin Luther King dedicated his life to love and to justice between fellow human beings. He died in the cause for that effort.”

Even from our little home in Indianapolis, I can already imagine the streets of my hometown in D.C. filling with people with a whole lot of rage and hurt with nowhere to direct it but at themselves. I clutch my little girl closer to my side.

“On this difficult day and in this difficult time for the United States, it’s perhaps well to ask what kind of a nation we are and what direction we want to move in.”

Hasn’t this country already chosen? A great man was killed tonight, I think as my lips tremble and my eyes well up with hot tears. I don’t feel like a mother or a wife or even a sister right now. I feel like a child clinging to another child trying to figure out what’s gonna happen now that the one person who was allowed to care isn’t allowed to care anymore.

“For those of you who are Black – considering the evidence evidently is that there were White people who were responsible – you can be filled with bitterness and with hatred and a desire for revenge.”

Sounds of people yelling and crying echoes around the neighborhood. I fear it's only gonna get worse. I only hope that Thomas doesn’t get any ideas about running out there to help or hurt. He may not have agreed with the Reverend’s methods, but I could see it on his face that he was feeling it, too, plus all the anger that rushes out from inside of him whenever the position of Black people in this country comes up.

“We can move in that direction as a country. . .”

Easy for him to say. He’ll wake up tomorrow and still be a White man. We’ll wake up tomorrow and be Black people without a leader. We’ll wake up not knowing what tomorrow is gonna bring. If the Reverend Martin Luther King was killed, what’s gonna happen to us if we speak out? I can’t tell where this country is headed, and neither can Mr. Kennedy. But I have a feeling it’s nowhere good. Nowhere good at all if a man like that can be taken from us so very, very soon.




by Victoria Lucas

Mel and I grieve that Martin Luther King, Jr. has been taken from us. The turmoil of the day only underscored the tragic events.

It’s not like NYC where mimeographed newsletters were hurried out to the streets with the hour’s news—it takes time for the Berkeley Barb or other newspapers to be ready to distribute. What a difference a Gestetner makes.

Thus, it’s quite possible to drive into something unexpected, as we did on the day of the assassination. People glared at us, yelled at us, even threw things until we stopped and asked someone what was going on. It seems we were supposed to have known to place a black ribbon on our radio antenna or someplace else on our car, as a memorial to Dr. King. We had no idea. We hurriedly found a ribbon and attached it.


Berkeley during the Free Speech Movement a few years ago.

The lack of timely information and the increasing violence here are driving us out. Not only are the police getting more violent, but the Panthers are violent, the protests are getting violent; I cannot pass UC Berkeley's Sather Gate without seeing and hearing a male speaker getting purple in the face about “the pigs” (which now includes both the police and the UC Berkeley administration). What’s more, we're finding we cannot drive or walk around Berkeley at all and feel safe.

And so, we shall soon be leaving tumultuous Berkeley for points north. Our family member is staying, so we will be back to check on him and see friends. But living here has become too scary.

Maybe everywhere has gotten a little more scary.




by Joe Reid

Dr. King was loved by many for what he did with his life.  I thought I loved Dr. King for what he did, but I think that I really must not have.  For the thing I called love was ineffective and unhelpful.  It was empty in that it let another carry a burden alone, without me stepping forward to help.  While this man was walking around doing for others; walking around with a bullseye painted on his back, I only looked out for myself and mine.  It was good that Dr. King was doing the work of leading protests.  Organizing folks.  Giving speeches to inspire others.  Writing books so that others might understand our struggles.  All that I did was say that I loved his work, but I did nothing to help.  I worked and took care of my family and had the nerve to call another man brother when I didn’t lift a finger to try to make that man’s life better.

Dr. King was clearly not like me.  When he called you sister, it was because he cared about what happened to you.  If he called you brother, it was because he saw you as family.  He was able to see another man’s struggles as his own and was willing to use what talents he was given to do something about it.  When I see another man’s struggles, I see it as that man’s struggles.  How does that make me any different than most white folks?  People that might not hate me; might not call me a nigger, but who don’t see themselves in me.  They don’t see my struggles as their own.  Dr. Martin Luther King Jr was not that the kind of man that I have found myself to be.  He clearly possessed something that I lack.


Dr. King, flanked (from left) Hosea Williams, the Rev. Jesse Jackson, and the Rev. Ralph Abernathy on the Lorraine Motel balcony in Memphis on April 3.  Photo by Charles Kelly.

I think that my problem is that I don’t love God.  How could I say that I love God, if I don’t love those who God loves?  Like how if you love your friend, you will help your friend's family because of that love.  That I am not willing to step away from my own life to take up the cause of another shows me how fruitless my love is.  It shows that I don’t love my neighbor, I don’t love my coworker, I don’t love my family, I don’t even love myself.  If another man is fighting a battle for me that I won’t fight for myself, then I must not love myself.  I really don’t love myself, if I haven’t walked with the man.  My inaction proves the point that I must not love God.

Dr. King was not only fighting for negroes in this country, but also for poor folk of all stripes.  This man truly loved others.  His actions showed that.  He loved his children.  His speeches showed that.  He loved his brother.  His hands demonstrated that.  Lastly, it is now obvious to me that Dr. King really and truly loved God.  His life was a testament to that.

So, if I am going to claim to love God, as this man clearly did, I need to stop seeing people as separate from myself; realizing the truth that if anyone is being denied participation, representation, opportunity, or even their very life, I am being denied those things as well.  It was very unloving of me to let others fight on my behalf without me.  It’s time for me to start loving God and those who He loves.  Dr. King, thank you for your example of how to love.  You will be missed, but you will never be forgotten.




by Tom Purdom

I was doing the dishes and listening to our local all-news station, KYW, when the news came over the radio.  The first thing that leaped into my mind was Carl Sandburg’s poem Upstream:

The strong men keep coming on.
They go down, shot, hanged, sick, broken.
They live on, fighting, singing, lucky as plungers,
The strong mothers pulling them on,
The strong mothers pulling them from a dark sea, a
great prairie, a long mountain.
Call Hallelujah, call Amen,
The strong men keep coming on.






[March 24, 1968] A Frivolous Escape into Fashion


by Gwyn Conaway

Recently I found myself reading Vogue, as I often do in the spring, to surmise the direction of fashion for the coming year. March’s issues did not disappoint in providing a vibrant view of the year to come in mainstream fashion. I speak primarily of its frivolity and lack of connection to the state of the world.


Mr. Dino brings in the summer with a "brisk ambassa-dress", a play on the word "ambassador", decorated in stately medals and ribbons of honor to invoke patriotic hopefulness in womenswear, Vogue, March 1968.

It’s apparent to me that womenswear this spring has a singular purpose in creating an escape from the tensions of politics and war. Vogue explores this through romanticizing the ancient empires of the Mediterranean – a common escape during times of uncertainty – and crewing the ship of our adventures.

Perhaps you've read that sentence twice, so let me set the scene for you and expand upon my findings. Many fashions this spring follow one of two roads. Firstly, a romanticization of the past through modern resort prints and silk taffeta skirts. Secondly, a sleek uniform style inspired by the Mod movement, but specifically naval in aesthetic that lends itself to our obsession with the classics. Combined, these two modes of fashion suggest that women this year are both the vehicles of escapism and the destination.

Above is a beautiful example of romanticization of the past with details in both mens and womenswear indicating details of Napoleon's army. He invaded several regions, including Egypt, one of the three classical empires in Western philosophy. Note the beaded cuff in a chevron to mimic that of an admiral, the jeweled buttons, and silver damask waistcoat, all of which mimic court dress of the French Empire in the early nineteenth century.

By comparison, the Mod and Space Age movements have evolved into a nautical theme this year with navy and white being the dominant color palette. Note the mantle in worsted crepe with Brandenburg braiding, the wide white belt with a rectangular buckle that mimics formal naval uniforms, and a pervasive use of white gloves all across womenswear, also indicative of formal military etiquette. The Contessa outfit to the right jaunts the hat to the side and sports chevron-detailed pockets indicative of infantry troops. Please also take a glance at the pillars at her back, which happen to be Egyptian in origin.


Another fascinating interpretation of our frivolous escapism this season is Estee Lauder's advertisement of crème makeup (left), in which the ensemble is made of chiffon and lost amongst the wallpaper, and Valentino (right). His ensemble here is quite a curious combination of a silk organza blouse with a sailor's collar paired with silverleaf shorts derived from statues of Greek archers and pottery.


Advertisements for The Wet Set by Hanes and Berkshire's Miracle Fibers. Both of these advertisements were accompanied by cosmetics that prided themselves on softness and transparency.

Much to my surprise, every page in this spring’s issues is dedicated to the delicacy and girlishness of women rather than our evolving brand of sharp intellectualism and keen pursuits. Even our undergarments have taken on the look of water, iridescent like velvet, advertised to invoke the sea. These liquid nylons are soft and transparent, two traits many of the fashions this spring strive for in their customers. Bold strokes in Vogue have been abandoned in opposition to the youth movements that so loudly defy long-held traditions and establishments of power. As a result of this feud, I find us returning to a dichotomy as old as time: the bold, intellectual woman and the more favorable docile lady.


There was no advertisement more en pointe than Van Raalte, which says of its sleepwear, "Beneath an air of independence: little girl sleepers."

Though the styles presented upon the main stage of fashion across Europe and New York are modern, beautiful, and tailored to perfection, I wonder… Is this how women view themselves in our age? I’m inclined to disagree with the ancient gods of couture this year, and I suspect that young women in particular resent being depicted as new mothers and home decor. I’m curious to see how women use their voices in the coming months, and to what end. How will they be viewed? How will we judge them? My expectation is that if major fashion publications continue this trend, there will be a stark divide amongst women, just as there was during the Suffrage Movement at the turn of the century. While soft-spoken, mannerly women will be seen as beautiful and proper, those holding picket signs will be viewed as ugly and brash.

The homefront war is just beginning…


[Want to discuss the evolving culture of 1968? Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge!]




[December 26, 1967] The Prime Minister is Missing! (Disappearance of Australian Prime Minister Harold Holt)




by Kaye Dee

Christmas is supposed to be a time of family celebration, but this year in Australia it has instead become a time of national mourning following the tragic disappearance of our Prime Minister, Mr. Harold Holt. The country is in shock as we come to terms with the loss of a relatively new national leader in an apparent drowning accident.

A Fateful Swim
The full circumstances surrounding the Prime Minister’s disappearance have yet to be established. What we do know is that on Sunday 17 December Mr. Holt was swimming off Cheviot Beach, south of the Victorian state capital of Melbourne, when he was lost to the view of friends onshore after swimming out into deep water and apparently being swamped by a large wave.

The Prime Minister’s love of the ocean is well known: he and his wife have beachside holiday homes in Queensland and at Portsea, not far from Cheviot Beach.  A strong swimmer, fond of skindiving and spearfishing, Mr. Holt apparently claimed to “know Cheviot beach like the back of my hand”, and to be familiar with its sometimes treacherous offshore currents. While skindiving on an earlier visit, Mr. Holt had once recovered a porthole from the wreck of the SS Cheviot, the ship which broke up and sank near the beach, due to its dangerous currents, with the loss of 35 lives on 20 October 1887.

On 17 December, while spending the weekend at Portsea, Mr. Holt and four companions decided to stop at remote Cheviot Beach for a swim before lunch when returning from a drive. The water conditions were rough and only one of Holt’s companions ultimately went into the water with him.  Mr. Holt swam out into deep water and may have been caught in a rip current when he disappeared. Mrs. Gillespie, one of the group who remained on the shore, saw Mr. Holt disappear, describing it as “like a leaf being taken out […] so quick and final”.

A Desperate Search
The Prime Minister’s disappearance sparked “one of the largest search operations in Australian history”. Three amateur divers initially tried to brave the heavy seas but found them too turbulent. They were soon joined by the Victoria Police, deploying helicopters, watercraft, police divers, and two Navy diving teams. By the end of the day, more than 190 personnel were involved. However, the leader of one of the Navy teams apparently believed that “any chance of finding the Prime Minister was lost by the Sunday night”.

Despite this gloomy assessment, the number of searchers eventually increased to more than 340, including 50 divers, working in extremely difficult weather and sea conditions. The intense search continued until December 21, but was then scaled back, although the quest to find Mr. Holt’s body still continues.

Readers outside Australia may be wondering how the leader of the country could go swimming without being accompanied by a security detail. Australian leaders have traditionally not employed bodyguards or other protective measures and Mr. Holt similarly refused a security detail when he first assumed the Prime Ministership: he considered it was unnecessary and might distance him from the public. Although a couple of incidents in mid-1966 resulted in Holt grudgingly accepting a single bodyguard for his official duties, he continued to refuse any protection while on holiday, considering it a violation of his privacy. (Nasty rumour has it that he also wanted to conceal the extramarital affairs he has been suspected of indulging in). Thus, he was unaccompanied by any official security during his weekend break.
The first searchers combing Cheviot Beach, looking for any clue to the Prime Minister's disappearance

A Man of the Twentieth Century
The third Australian Prime Minister to die in office, Mr. Holt was a relatively young man, only 59. The first of our national leaders to be born in the Twentieth Century, Holt believed it was his responsibility as Prime Minister “to reflect the modern Australia to my fellow countrymen, to our allies and the outside world at large”. Mr. Holt became Prime Minister when he assumed the leadership of the incumbent Liberal Party in January 1966.

A lawyer and political lobbyist before being elected to the Federal Parliament, Mr. Holt was an enthusiastic sportsman and swimmer, as well as an effective orator, making him a sharp contrast with his Prime Ministerial predecessors and most of his parliamentary colleagues. His popularity with the public was reflected in his crushing victory in the elections of late 1966.  Mr. Holt (right), at Parliament House, during his period as Treasurer to his predecessor, Sir Robert Menzies (left)

With extensive political and governmental experience, serving as a Minister in several critical portfolios, Mr. Holt helped to transform post-War Australia into a modern democracy that now sees itself as more than just an outpost of the British Empire.

His important economic reforms have included the creation of the Reserve Bank of Australia and the introduction of decimal currency. As Prime Minister he also promoted significant political reforms, including the nation-building post-war immigration scheme; dismantling the shameful White Australia policy (which largely precluded non-white people from immigrating to Australia); and amending the Constitution to give the Federal Government responsibility for Aboriginal affairs. This latter change means that Australia’s first inhabitants can now be counted in the national census for the first time. (Yes, I’m embarrassed to say that until this year, our Constitution did not recognise Aboriginal Australians as citizens or count them in the population of the country!)

Mr. Holt supported Australia’s membership of INTELSAT and the expansion of the NASA tracking station networks in Australia. In June this year, he became the first Australian Prime Minister to make a satellite broadcast, appearing in the special “Australia Day” programme from Expo 67 in Montreal. In March, he officially opened the Manned Space Flight Network station at Honeysuckle Creek, near Canberra, which will play a major role in the Apollo Moon programme. While there, he received as a special gift from the staff, a portrait generated by one of the station computers! Mr. Holt's computer-generated portrait. It took the staff at the NASA Honeysuckle Creek tracking station about 20 hours to programme the computer to produce this image.

Turning Our Eyes to Asia
Mr. Holt also had the foresight to recognise that, in a region of politically unstable nations, Australia needs to be better engaged with Asia and the Pacific. Earlier this year, he said in Parliament that “geographically we are part of Asia, and increasingly we have become aware of our involvement in the affairs of Asia – our greatest dangers and our highest hopes are centred in Asia's tomorrows”.

Prime Minister Holt at the South East Asian Treaty Organisation's meeting in Manila in October 1966

As Prime Minister, Mr. Holt's first overseas trip was to South-East Asia in April 1966, visiting Malaysia, Singapore, South Vietnam, and Thailand. This year, he toured Cambodia, Laos, South Korea, and Taiwan, and had planned future visits to other Asian nations.

Of course, in considering Australian involvement in Asia, we cannot ignore the ongoing conflict in Vietnam. Fervently opposed to Communism, Mr. Holt’s approach to national security emphasised countering Communist expansion. This lay behind his interest in encouraging greater engagement with Asia and his government’s expansion of Australia's involvement in the Vietnam War. In March 1966, Prime Minister Holt tripled the number of Australian troops in Vietnam to around 4,500, which included 1,500 conscript national servicemen: since October this year, with the most recent announcement of a troop increase, there are now over 8,000 Australian military personnel stationed in South Vietnam.
Although Mr. Holt’s expansion of Australia’s involvement in the Vietnam conflict was initially popular – and has been considered a key factor in his landslide election victory last year – the tide of public opinion has been turning against the war in recent months, especially as greater numbers of young men, conscripted into national service through a “birthday lottery” system that many people consider unfair, are being sent overseas to fight.

“All the Way with LBJ!”
The Vietnam War has dominated Australian foreign policy since Mr. Holt became Prime Minister, as he believed that “unless there is security for all small nations, there cannot be security for any small nation”. Believing that the United States provides a critical “shield” for Asian and South Pacific nations against Communist aggression, Mr. Holt cultivated a close relationship between Australia and America and formed a strong personal friendship with President Johnson, whom he had first met in 1942, when Mr. Johnson visited Melbourne as a naval officer.

In 1966, Mr. Holt visited the U.S. twice. On his first visit, he made a comment at a White House address that has become somewhat controversial here in Australia. While apparently intending the remark to be taken as a “light-hearted gesture of goodwill”, Mr. Holt’s comment that “you have an admiring friend, a staunch friend that will be all the way with LBJ” (a reference, I’m told, to the slogan used in Mr. Johnson's 1964 presidential campaign), was seen by many in Australia as sycophantic and embarrassingly servile.

Despite the controversy, I suspect that this jingle-like phrase will become one of Mr. Holt’s best-known utterances. It certainly appeared again when President Johnson made the first ever visit to Australia by a serving US President in October 1966. The President toured five cities, being greeted by both large crowds of the curious and anti-war demonstrators. I accompanied my sister and her family to join the crowds lining the motorcade route in Sydney, as I was certainly interested to get a glimpse of a US President!

Changing of the Guard
No trace of Mr. Holt was found by the evening of 18 December. At 10 p.m. that day the Governor-General announced that the Prime Minister was presumed dead. Since the country cannot be left without a leader, Mr. John McEwen, the leader of the junior government coalition party, the Country Party – and therefore the Deputy Prime Minister – has been sworn in as the interim Prime Minister, and the Liberal party will elect a new leader, and thus a new Prime Minister, early in the new year. Although Mr. Holt’s body still has not been found, a memorial service was held on 22 December, at St Paul's Anglican Cathedral, Melbourne. There were 2,000 people within the cathedral, while thousands more lined the nearby streets and listened through a public-address system. The funeral was broadcast on radio and television and, also via satellite to the United States, the UK and Europe. This was the first major satellite broadcast from Australia of a significant local news event. Interim Prime Minister McEwen with international dignitaries at Harold Holt's memorial

International dignitaries and heads of state attended the memorial service, including Charles, Prince of Wales (representing Her Majesty the Queen), the Prime Minister and Opposition Leader of the UK, the UN Secretary General and President Johnson. Seven Prime Ministers and Presidents from Asian and Pacific Countries also attended, in addition to foreign ministers and ambassadors from many countries in the region and the Commonwealth.

A Tragic Accident, Suicide or Something More Sinister?
Without a body, no definitive conclusions can be reached as to what happened to the Prime Minister. The official view, and it seems that of his family, close friends and colleagues, is that Mr. Holt overestimated his swimming ability and went literally out of his depth in dangerous conditions, resulting in a tragic accidental drowning. Other possibilities include that he may have suffered a heart-attack or other sudden medical issue in the water (although his health was generally good), been stung by a deadly jellyfish (yes, we do have them in Australia), or attacked by a shark.

Some allegations have been raised that Mr. Holt committed suicide due to a number of political difficulties and controversies that have arisen in recent months. However, his wife and friends have rejected this as uncharacteristic of his personality. Already, outlandish theories have also been advanced for the Prime Minister’s disappearance, including suggestions that he has faked his own death in order to run off with a mistress, or that he has been assassinated by the CIA (but one would have to ask why, since he was so pro-American). As long as no body is found, I suspect that the mystery of Prime Minister Holt’s disappearance will continue to haunt, and fascinate, Australia – and that the bizarre theories will continue.

In the meantime, Australia mourns the loss of a forward-looking leader and the promise he might have represented.












[December 12, 1967] The Che-Type Cometh


by Gwyn Conaway

Less than two months ago, Argentinian-born Marxist revolutionary, Che Guevara, was captured and executed in Bolivia for his role in leading a revolutionary guerilla force to challenge the current US-backed regime.


Comandante Ernesto Che Guevara, Havana Cuba, 1959. Guevara studied to be a medical doctor, and turned to radical left activism because of the poverty and disease he witnessed.

Recently, post-mortem photographs of Guevara became available to the public. His body was put on display in a brick-and-mortar laundry room in the countryside village of Vallegrande, lying peacefully upon a concrete slab with a content expression and a single bullet wound through his left side. 

If Che Guevara’s philosophies on governance and criticism of American capitalism haven’t seeped into the public consciousness themselves, the image of the man certainly has. The details of the end of his life have already taken on religious undertones. Guevara was once a revolutionary, but in death, he has become a Christ-like figure.


The press and local people were invited to view Che Guevara's body to confirm his capture and death to the public. More than two hundred people came to see him, and locals were observed clipping his hair to keep as tokens of worship.

You must be asking yourself, dear reader, why a fashion columnist would be so intrigued by this turn of events as to write about it in her quarterly offering. Fashion and politics hold hands like lovers do, lacing their fingers together in the timeless game of tug-of-war known as counterculture. I cannot say this with enough emphasis: self-expression is a dangerous game.

There is no better lens with which to examine this intimate relationship between fashion and politics than hindsight, so let’s first look at the zoot suit of the 1930s. Designed and worn by Black and Hispanic young men, the zoot suit was a symbol of these communities finding their own voice in America. Like many Black art movements of the time, such as jazz (anti-music) and swing (anti-dance), the zoot suit sought to defy the standard of beauty defined by European tradition.


Malcolm X chose to wear the suit at the age of fifteen to assume an identity counter to the American mainstream.


Mexican American boys in detained in Los Angeles during the Zoot Suit Riots of 1943, in which more than 500 men and boys of Mexican, Black, and Filipino descent were arrested. The press applauded servicemen who took to the streets, beating the local community with clubs for wearing the countercultural fashion.

This fashion was also a form of political protest, defying the World War II draft and the nationalism that came with the total war effort. While the rest of America was committed to a patriotic fashion uniform, these men chose to stand out. Among them was Malcolm X, who chose to wear the suit in his teen years. It was also worn by Hispanic boys in San Diego and Los Angeles as a point of cultural pride. Servicemen from the nearby base took to buses and invaded local Hispanic communities, stripping men of their zoot suits and burning them in the streets. More than a thousand people participated in the five-day Zoot Suit Riots.

Che Guevara has been an icon of the radical left since the late 1950s, and his image already inspires countercultural and anti-capitalist movements in the United States and Latin America. Groups such as the Black Panther Party and the Hippie Movement have taken inspiration from his efforts. With his martyrdom, I’ve seen a rise in fashions that resemble his iconic army fatigues and red-star beret.


Huey P. Newton wears his iconic black leather blazer and beret, fashioned after Che Guevara and Fidel Castro, photographed in 1967.

Huey P. Newton is a prime example of this political phenomenon. The co-founder of the Black Panther Party has recently begun wearing berets himself. Tilted to the side to expose his afro, Newton pairs the cap with a plain black leather blazer and an unstarched, open-collared cotton shirt. His look militarizes the white-collar suit-and-tie, making it a symbol of resistance against institutional racism in the United States. He also uses the dressed down collar and beret to align himself with Marxist revolutionaries interested in a utopian future for laborers and people of color.


Vietnam veterans stand up in peaceful demonstration for the first time, siding with protestors and students opposed to the Vietnam War. This protest led to the founding of Vietnam Veterans Against War.

But it’s not just radical leftist groups that are donning the Che-Type, as it’s being called. Vietnam war veterans recently held a peace demonstration in which they sported the look, and the burning of draft cards on the Boston Common saw the same. This suggests, just as my previous article on military fashion, that the modern infantry uniform has become a civilian symbol of protest against US foreign policy and war abroad.

It bears repeating: self-expression is dangerous. The Che-Type is a direct challenge to American capitalism as an identity, not just a picket sign. While the revolutionary left is taking the moral high ground on affairs of state through their artistic expression, this pushes politics to do the same, making the argument no longer about policy but about identity and righteousness. The red-star beret, the infantry uniform, and the zoot suit all have this in common, and all signal a time of tension and division.

I suspect Guevara will live on as a symbol of the counterculture. Like Che the man, Che the symbol will be a sign that things are about change in a big way.





[November 14, 1967] March on the Pentagon, October 21, 1967–and After


by Victoria Lucas

March on Washington

They're saying there were 100,000 of us. There were a lot of people, but 100,000?!? It just seems like an exaggeration to make the whole thing look more dangerous to the government than it really was.

We were not armed. We were not aggressive–well, at least not until later at the Pentagon.


Flower power

Those were flowers that girl put in the barrels of the rifles with fixed bayonets and that were offered to the soldiers, not some black-powder concoction. And it was a sit-in! People at the Pentagon sat down in front of the fixed bayonets.

But we didn’t get as far as the Pentagon. OK, let me start at the beginning–our beginning, for Mel and me and our new house guest.

If you have seen my articles these past few months you know Mel and I were living in New York City and planning to travel to Europe. Yes, our plans were a bit vague, and we were enjoying our stay in New York, with Mel working full time at a boiler insurance company and me part time for Aspen Magazine (Phyllis Johnson Glick). In our spare time we walked in parks, visited friends, joined demonstrations against The War, and went to concerts. We also occasionally went on automobile trips on the weekends, retrieving our VW van from a rented garage in New Jersey.

One such weekend not long ago, we went to pick up a family member of Mel’s who had been suspended from high school, and he came to live with us until we could decide what to do. I’m not going to mention his name or other circumstances, because I don’t have his permission to write about him. I will only say that he was living in the US at this time only on the condition that he stay in school, and because that was the bottom line we had to figure out how to get him back in school. We came to the reluctant conclusion that, given the drug-related nature of his suspension, the only likely high school we could get him into was in Berkeley.

So when we drove to Washington, DC for the protest, there were 3 of us, we were loaded down with all the belongings we could bring, and we did not return to New York. We parked as close as we could get to the Lincoln Memorial and spent our time at the Reflecting Pool with the crowds there, trying to keep track of one another. We never crossed the bridge to the Pentagon to attempt the “levitation” people have been talking about.

Yes, levitation. A silly idea, I suppose, but then–like our plans for Europe–expectations were pretty vague. From what I’ve read since, only about half the people who, like us, gathered at the Lincoln Memorial followed Abbie Hoffman to the Pentagon, where it is said 3,000 federal troops were waiting for them. Norman Mailer was there and managed to get himself busted. At the Lincoln Reflecting Pool, the rally was comparatively quiet, given what I’ve heard and read about the Pentagon crush.

They say a lot of famous people were there besides Hoffman and Mailer–such as Robert Lowell, Noam Chomsky, Paul Goodman, and Allen Ginsberg (who chanted in Tibetan?) as well as rally speakers Dr. Benjamin Spock and Rev. William Sloane Coffin. Unfortunately, ill-conceived attacks at and foray into the Pentagon by some resulted in bloody confrontations, and the protest did not end as peacefully as it began–or so I hear and have read.

Wagons West

Since we wanted to get to a campground to stay the night, we left early. You see, Mel had to quit his job to leave New York, and so did I. We had only our savings to go on, and we were going to be roughing it for the trip back to the West Coast. We plotted our journey by where we could find campgrounds for each night, and we cooked our food from the sort of large drawer on top of the van that Mel had built on weekends and days off in that New Jersey garage. It was closed in a watertight case on top, but once pulled down at the side of the van there were shelves holding a camp stove, a lantern, canned foods, a couple of pots and pans, etc.–a kitchen and pantry all in one. A table folded out from being a cover to the drawer and held the camp stove and provided a spot to prepare food. Quarters were tight, but campgrounds gave us room to spread out, although it got pretty chilly.

We haven’t accomplished much in Berkeley yet, but we have found an apartment and are sending our family member–-let’s call him Mervyn–-to Berkeley High. (He doesn’t have long before he finishes school.) I found a full-time, daytime nanny job with a Mrs. Kurzweil, who has a sweet little guy, not walking yet, so not a year old. And we are connecting with old friends from the pre-New York days, spending some time in San Francisco.

We are still connected with the protest movement, and I’ve found new concert venues.  Next time–adventures in Berkeley! (I love Tilden Park.)






[October 4, 1967] Transported on a Ferry Boat (NY Avant Garde Festival, Sept. 30, 1967)

by Victoria Lucas

Definitions

The dictionary says there are two definitions for the word "transport." One definition we could use daily. A sample sentence might read, "The bus was my means of transport to the 5th Annual New York Avant Garde Festival."

Definition number 2 is quite different: "I was transported when I got on the ferry, but it wasn't by the transportation!" In this sense, one is overwhelmed with pleasure, joy, excitement, all those good things. How do you combine the 2? Why, at an annual New York Avant Garde Festival held on a ferry, of course–in this case the John F. Kennedy.

The John F. Kennedy on its way to or from Staten Island

Whee! Here we go. This was the list that got me going:


Program for the ferry festival

Charlotte Moorman, Producer

Right there at the top is the producer, Charlotte Moorman. Earlier this year Moorman was arrested and convicted of obscene behavior for playing the cello topless, apparently in compliance with the musical notation of a piece by Nam June Paik, one of the composers listed underneath the festival title. Fortunately the Commissioner of Marine and Aviation didn't know that when Moorman went to apply for a permit to use the ferry boat as a stage for dance, music, painting, happenings, etc. She got the permit, and when it was questioned by the press, the Department stood by their decision (bless them), and the festival went on.

She has been producing these festivals since 1965. Never a strident feminist (not that there's anything wrong with that), she has charted her course to be with like-minded musicians and performers, and she decided that it was pretty useless to have little concerts for herself and her friends–better to at least try to introduce the "avant garde" (read "strange") to an unsuspecting audience. Just look at the list of names! Allan Kaprow, Takehisa Kosugi, Jackson Mac Low, Max V. Mathews (Bell Labs electronic music!), Max Neuhaus, Sun Ra! And those are just the performers! Here is the program, listing the composers, painters, and so on:

Program for 5th Annual New York Avant Garde Festival

Note, among others: Max Neuhaus, La Monte Young, John Cage (Yes!), Robert Moran (they played one of my favorite pieces, "L'apres midi du dracoula"), Robert Ashley, Toshi Ichiyanagi, Alvin Lucier, Karlheinz Stockhausen, with films by Stan Brakhage and "hopefully by" my favorite filmmaker Bruce Baillie, as well as Shirley Clarke and Ben van Meter. Con Edison lent them cables to use for all the electrical and electronic appliances/instruments, and somehow the Judson Memorial Church (where I went to see John Cage) was involved.

We were crushed!–uh make that IN a crush

Even after seeing partial lists of the performers and creators, I was not, however, prepared for the unique part of this experience. I've seen some of these people, heard their music, seen their work, read about them elsewhere. They and their work are available elsewhere. On the ferry, they were available right in front of me. Sometimes I could hardly get past them, the ferry was so crowded (holds 3,500, and that doesn't count the cars on the lower deck). There were dancers on the outside benches moving with a rope among them; Paik had televisions stacked on one another and on pedestals; a painter made room to paint in one area, a jazz combo to play in another. You could hardly move for the musicians, composers, painters, dancers, readers, poets, filmmakers, and all manner of creative men and women. "Excuse me, Mr. Ginsberg, could I get by you? I really need the john." Yes, Ginsberg did plan to be there. On a larger, longer, bluer than blue program for the event, his name is signed along with that of John Cage, Yoko Ono, and 107 others!

Here's how it went: Mel and I arrived and pushed our nickels into the turnstile slots. I can't remember what time we got there or how long we stayed. We probably stayed until the evening, not too late, because we don't want to be on the mean streets too late. We made our way onto the boat but there was no place to sit. We wandered around separately–a painting here, Nam June Paik's electronic display there. It really was shoulder to shoulder sometimes. I paid little attention to anything outside the boat. I think Mel tapped me on the shoulder at one point and led me outside so we could look at the Statue of Liberty. There were dancers outside, but no music. I was soon back indoors listening to music.

Come to think of it, I probably wouldn't have recognized most of the people on the program if they had addressed me personally. I know what Cage looks like, and he wasn't there when we were–or I couldn't find him in the press of people. I might have seen Nam June Paik adjusting the TV sets he piled one on the other. I have seen pix of Allan Kaprow and Yoko Ono–and I could maybe recognize a few others. But I didn't go to recognize people. I went to listen and look and be immersed in art and music. (I wasn't interested in the particular choreography on offer, but in reviewing the whole happening I would give it as many stars as I could reach.)

Back we went through the turnstiles and turned around and plunked in another nickel each and back into the crowd aboard. We were not allowed to stay on the boat. When it docked, we had to get off and pay for another ride. It was a routine–push our way through crowds to get on the boat, move around in it, 25 minutes later the boat docks, we get off and take the ride on the turnstiles, plunking the nickels (good thing we brought a supply) and getting on again, only to get off on the other side. It's a wonder we weren't dizzy. Actually, I think I was–dizzy with joy in art and music: Transported!






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[September 20th, 1967] Twiggy: Face of the 60s


by Gwyn Conaway

Back in March of this year, a peculiar teenage girl by the name of Lesley Hornby stepped off the tarmac at John F. Kennedy International Airport in New York City and, predictably, changed the world.


Miss Hornby was “discovered” by Deirdre McSharry by chance and coined her “The Face of ‘66.” She’s since then been on the cover of US Vogue three times in a single year.

At seventeen years old, Twiggy, as she’s more commonly known, has captured the lenses of every camera and magazine in the world. And while many critics claim that she’s taken fashion by storm, I have been awaiting her arrival for some time.

Despite my foresight, I’m no soothsayer! No, I’m simply a fashion historian watching the pendulum of humanity swing ever closer to its amplitude of enlightenment. It’s a dance as old as civilization, and I’ll happily reveal the steps.


Twiggy for Vogue, Summer 1967.

Twiggy is known mainly for her adolescent figure: a straight waist, lanky limbs, big lash-lined eyes, and diminutive chest. These youthful traits are the ideals of revolutionary beauty, and crop up during the political changing of the tides in which the next generation wants to wash away the structures of the past. When these sorts of proportions become mainstream, they signal upheaval that challenges tradition and demands social revolution.


What better indication do we have than the Long Hot Summer of 1967, in which we’ve already experienced over one hundred fifty race riots alone? Pictured here is tension leading to bloodiest challenge to the status quo so far, the 12th Street Riot in Detroit from July 23-28.

Eras such as ours set aside the domestic feminine figure with child-bearing hips and gentle curves in favor of androgyny for the express purpose of rebelling against standards young people no longer have faith in. Anti-beauty, as it were, pushes society to view women as more than the dichotomy of the Gibson Girl they’re often prescribed (combining two female archetypes: the voluptuous woman and the fragile lady rolled into one woman).


Thérésa Tallien was known for cutting her hair in celebration of Marie Antoinette's execution and foregoing undergarments and sleeves. She also wore cothurnus, or Greek sandals.


Louise Brooks is credited with introducing the sleek bob worn by so many Flappers in anti-prohibition America and also celebrated her sexual power in a modern world.

Twiggy joins the ranks of women such as Thérésa Tallien of the French Revolution and Louise Brooks of 1920s Hollywood fame. Not only do these revolutionary beauties reflect the daring spirit of their times, but also the search for truth. As miniskirts and monokinis find popularity, I’m reminded of the Neoclassical era, in which revolutionary women hung up their stockings and went bare-legged in thin muslin gowns to reflect the bareness of truth through nudity. And as drugs such as LSD gain influence in art, I have deja vu of the Dadaists, who sought to unravel reality after The War to End All Wars.

From my high vantage point, the arrival of Twiggy has been expected for quite some time. In fact, it would be more surprising if Miss Hornby hadn’t risen as the star of the 1960s. Now that she’s taken up the mantle of revolution, I suggest we all prepare for cultural turbulence. The voice of the generation has spoken.






[September 4, 1967] We Love The Pirates…But Wilson Does Not! (The End of Pirate Radio)


by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

It finally happened; the Golden Age of Pirate Radio has come to an end around the British Isles. After three and a half years of pop music coming from the high seas, they have (almost) been completely silenced. British music fans are primarily reduced to listening to middle of the road requests on Housewives’ Choice or popular songs as interpreted by the BBC Scottish Radio Orchestra.

Photo of Sam Costa. A 57 year-old band leader from the 30s, one of the Light Programme’s top DJs.
Sam Costa. A 57 year-old band leader from the 30s, one of the Light Programme’s top DJs.

So how did we get from the country being surrounded by radio stations back to 3 BBCs stations and a signal from the continent?

Journey Out of Limbo

The legal loophole that Pirate Radio had operated in was not one that could continue on indefinitely. As I noted in my first article back in 1965, the UK was a key signatory of European Agreement for the Prevention of Broadcasts transmitted from Stations outside National Territories and so had to find a way to bring things to an end.

There had also been complaints from various different directions about these broadcasts:

* Foreign embassies were complaining that the signals were interrupting official broadcast channels (although others have claimed those signals were coming from behind the Iron Curtain)
* Shipping companies made the case that the pirate ships did not have set routes nor pre-agreed transmission frequency so were a hazard to transport
* Musicians unions argued that the amount of gramophone records played meant their live performances were being impacted
* Some record companies complained they were not receiving royalties from these stations (a fact that is disputed)

It also probably did not help when Reginald Calvert, owner of Radio City, was killed by Oliver Smedley, the former owner of rival station Radio Atlanta, in a row over transmitter parts in June of ’66.

So, a solution needed to be found. Obviously, the Pirates wanted to move towards legalization of their activities. I think you would have been hard pushed to find DJs that enjoyed being on rusty old ships or hanging out in abandoned sea forts, and the move towards an American style proliferation of commercial radio stations was probably their preferred option.

This was the proposal presented by Paul Bryan MP: to try to have around 200 local commercial stations throughout the UK, with major cities able to enjoy a choice of seven or eight different channels if there was enough demand.

Public show of support

A photo of a protest at Trafalgar Square during the Free Radio rally
Trafalgar Square during the Free Radio rally

The Pirate radio groups have been trying to drum up support for their cause in various ways. These have included measures from a single, We Love the Pirates, to a letter writing campaign to MPs, to the Free Radio rally in Trafalgar Square at the end of May.

Perhaps the most audacious has been the attempts to influence politics. During the April council elections in London, ads were run in support of the Conservative Party on Pirate Radio (due to the party’s support of legalization of commercial radio) and subsequently the Conservatives won 82 out of the 100 seats. Not only was this the first time they had held control of the London council since 1931, it is also the largest majority held by one party in the council’s almost 80 year history.

Political show of Opposition

Photo of Edward Short MP, Postmaster General
Edward Short, Postmaster General

If the Pirates and the Free Radio Association thought this kind of activity might exert pressure on the Postmaster General, Edward Short, they were sorely mistaken. If anything, it seemed to harden attitudes, with questions raised of whether further legislation was necessary to prevent any other kind of political broadcasting. Legislation has also been included to make it an offence for writers and artists to provide any kind of material or for the preaching of sermons on unlicensed radio (nicknamed “plastic gospels”).

Even a compromise proposal from Left wing MP Hugh Jenkins to allow for a smaller number of local commercial stations under a public authority, acting as a parent station, was rejected. Instead, the Marine Offences Bill or Marine Broadcasting (Prevention) Act was passed, making it illegal for anyone in the UK to provide any kind of support to these pirate radio stations. The law came into force on 16th August.

By then almost all the pirate radio stations had been shut down. Some had already begun to close earlier in the year, with advertisers wanting to jump ship before legislation went into effect. Others were able to survive a little longer, due to space being bought by the tobacco industry (who used it as a way to get around restrictions on their industry) and right-wing groups such as the Monday club (for whom this has become a cause célèbre).

However, as the deadline got closer, stations began to realize the game was up. The government had already begun to bring prosecutions where they could claim broadcasts had happened in British waters and rather than face a clampdown, they are silent. Now ships are being sent the scrapyards and forts are being dismantled.

There was even an investigation of the Amateur Athletics Association for making use of free advertising space on Radio Caroline. Although no prosecution followed I think this shows how strongly the government has taken the job of stopping the Pirates.

However, there is one last station determined to find a way to fight on…

The Rights of Man

As I noted previously, there are two legal radio stations you can try to listen to, if your signal allows. The night broadcasts of Radio Luxembourg from the continent, and the low powered broadcasts of the UK’s only legal commercial station, Manx Radio.

Photo of an old fashioned room with stained glass windows and a large number of chairs. This is the chamber of the House of Keys, Manx’s Lower House
Chamber of the House of Keys, Manx’s Lower House

The Isle of Man’s relationship with the UK is a complex topic I could easily do an entire article on itself, but needless to say, the Tynwald (Manx Parliament) objected to the imposition of this legislation on an island with its own commercial radio station and without any consultation and so it was rejected.

This created a constitutional crisis because it meant that Pirate Radio could simply park up and get the operational support they needed from an island just Sixteen Miles off the British coastline and have the perfect venue to keep broadcasting. Which is exactly what Caroline North did when they dropped anchor there in early August.

At the same time, proposals were discussed to significantly increase the power of Manx Radio’s transmitter, to be able to compete with Radio Luxembourg and cover most of Britain and Ireland.

As you can imagine this caused a lot of anger in Westminster, and talks were held to try to resolve the crisis. Eventually the legislation was forced to come into effect at the start of this month. Plans for an extended transmitter are shelved and Caroline North is once again isolated (although they say they are stocked with supplies and will continue broadcasting).

On the other side of the country, Caroline South is officially operating out of The Netherlands, with several DJs moving there to avoid any risk of prosecution. How long this tactic will last is the question. The Dutch parliament is considering legislation similar to that of the UK, to come into force in 1968.

Common Ownership of the Means of Production

So, is that it? Pop music is banished from British airwaves? Not quite, whilst the government may be engaged in what Paul Channon MP called:

unreasonable, dictatorial, a killjoy, pettifogging socialist nonsense.

Mr. Short and Mr. Wilson are also not stupid. There is clearly a demand for pop music radio and if something isn’t done to address that fact, it won’t be long before other illicit means are deployed to provide it.

The government white paper came out in February outlining the new approach which, perhaps unsurprisingly for a socialist government, outlined the plans for a new national BBC pop radio station. This will broadcast at least six hours of records per day, along with live performances from the artists and special recordings. In addition, there are plans for 9 experimental local BBC stations, subsidized by local services.

This new radio station is to come in as Radio 1, as part of a reorganization of BBC Radio. The Light Programme (Light Music) is to become Radio 2, The Third Programme (classical) is to become Radio 3, and The Home Service (talk and scripted) is to become Radio 4. However, at least initially, no extra funds will be assigned to the radio service, so Radio 1 and Radio 2 will be sharing programming.

A photo of the 22 new Radio 1 DJs, sitting on the steps of broadcasting house
The new Radio 1 DJs

In a further sign of this as a form of nationalization, the new Radio 1 DJs are former Pirate Radio alumni, from big names like Tony Blackburn, to the hippy’s favourite John Peel. So, even though we may not be getting a continuation of multiple stations giving us 24 hour hit records, there will at least be some continuity.

Will the crown ever appeal as much as the Jolly Roger?

In 1718 over 200 pirates accepted the King’s Pardon and gave up their life of piracy. However, a number of them, most famously William “Blackbeard” Teach, soon grew bored and went back to a life on the high seas.

The question now remains, which way will things go today? Will the new “Radio 1” replace the Pirates in the hearts of the nation’s youth? Or will many of them follow Caroline’s lead and return to life under the Jolly Roger?

The new service debuts on 30th September. Until then, you will have to stay tuned to the Light Programme. As this issue is being stapled and sent out, you should be able to hear the sounds of Bernard Monshin and his Rio Tango Orchestra and extracts of The Val Doonican Show from the pier in Great Yarmouth …. groovy…