Ramparts, the '60s, the Left, and Closing a Circle (UPDATED)

(NOTE: This post has been updated -- please read the comments below.)



At a lecture in the San Francisco Public Library today, author Peter Richardson presented his book about Ramparts magazine, "A Bomb in Every Issue."

A number of the people who worked at the iconic '60s magazine were in the audience; at the very end of the lecture, the editor who secured many of its biggest stories, Warren Hinckle, made an appearance.

Richardson spent time on the Betty Van Patter case, the unsolved murder of the former Black Panther Party bookkeeper -- a murder that the best evidence indicates was ordered by party leaders once she discovered irregularities in their financial records.

Van Patter had worked at Ramparts when one of the editors, David Horowitz, introduced her to the Panthers.

Richardson is one of the few writers who have written about the era besides Horowitz to recognize that until Van Patter's murder is solved, the political circles still emanating from that time can never be closed.

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Creative Risk, Safety, Fear, Love & Death

The environment around me could not be more dramatic, several miles inland from a violent ocean, churning from a series of winter storms that are dumping rain along the northern coast.

As we rounded the hill atop Bernal yesterday, my kids are I were confronted with a black sky to one side and a bright, almost white sky on the other, with a giant rainbow joining them together.

The city's fabled seven hills are bright green from the rain, and the constantly changing sky provides the opposite of what our summer fog brings, i.e., clarity as opposed to confusion.

I love this season.

My friend asks, "Just think, if you have only a few years left in your life, what would you like to leave in words, as a journalist, to make the world a better place?"

Although I hope to have more than a "few" years left, her point is well-taken. Most of my career as a writer, I've been extremely passive. (This blog is a more aggressive approach to writing than most things I've done.)

Normally, I've waited for work to come to me, and then said "yes."

In the past few months, this pattern continues. I've said "yes" to anyone who approaches, and that has included editors for three magazine articles (all successful) and a new blog (that jury is out). Over the same period, I've approached no one on my own, to suggest projects, although I have a few in mind.

In my personal life, a similar passivity reigns. I've accepted those who show up, including girl friends; rarely reaching out to meet new people on my own.

Somehow, life just keeps showing up. But I am quite aware that a new approach is indicated; that it is now time for me to take more decisive actions.

Stay tuned. News headlines coming up...

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Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.,'s Last Speech

Tonight, on the American holiday dedicated to his memory, I'm watching a documentary about King and his life's work.

There has been no leader who has emerged in this society since King was assassinated in Memphis in 1968 with anywhere near his moral authority or rhetorical skill. The clip above is of one of my favorites among his speeches, with his awful premonition of impending death this last night of his life.

But my personal favorite among the many documentaries about King is "From Montgomery to Memphis," which contains much uncut footage of his major speeches.

Every year, on this day, I drop whatever else I may be doing to celebrate King's memory in my own private way. That is to review these speeches, studying his words and their meaning, and searching for new ways to contribute in the year ahead.

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Writing in the Rain

This region chronically suffers from droughts, so at a time like this, when a large winter storm moves into the area, everyone is hopeful -- not only that the coastal area gets rain but that the mountains to our east get snow.



Meanwhile I'm just grateful that the dark skies and pregnant air of the weekend have finally given birth to this rainfall locally.

For some reason this morning I recalled what it was like to be "normal," you know, to be married, own a house, have a job, unquestioned health, an unquestioned future, plenty of disposable income -- the whole American middle-class dream thing.

I have none of those things in my life. None.

Instead, I write. Few people read my words, fewer still know the little steps they could take to help sustain this work. On my BNET blog, I'm occasionally able to cause some trouble, but what does this amount to, really?

There appears to be no sustainable model left for writers in this society. We not only have to be able to write, we have to publish ourselves, market our work, and to keep doing so without any encouragement from the organized publishing world, which continues to hate bloggers.

Meanwhile, I'm just writing in the rain. There is no business model for me going forward, which is why I will never regain that dream-like lifestyle of my past, but will walk forward alone, listening to the rain, keeping to myself as much as possible, dreaming of a novel.

One that I, no doubt, will never write.

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