1968

by Dana Gurnee

Well, I’ve been overwhelmed with images and memories, as if given a dangerous mind-bending drug. I first was tempted to wait a few weeks, and to put those memories all together in a long, coherent, sequential narrative. But now I think I will poke in random fashion, starting not with 1967, when Michael and I became roommates at UCLA, but starting with something that intrudes more insistently: the UCLA humor magazine that Michael led in 1968.

Michael somehow heard that the humor magazine’s editorship was legally up for grabs every year. For decades, the editorship had been held by one fraternity or another. The existing humor magazine, Satyr, prided itself on its comic-strip character Captain F-Q, who drooled over amply endowed cartoon co-eds. It wasn’t a bad publication, and its “ownership” seemed entrenched and pleasing to the powers that were.

But Michael decided to try to take it over, along with me and a group of pals, mostly from his graphic-arts classes. Those were terrible, tumultuous times, with Vietnam, the assassinations, the Chicago convention, the Nixon election, yadda yadda. Somehow Michael was able to persuade a UCLA decision committee that it was time for the humor magazine to better reflect the times — to have a less-conservative feel, to have a modern design, and to have “girls” play a role, too, as actual staff members. Outrageous!

We were stunned when Michael pulled it off. And it stunned the Old Guard, who laughed off Michael’s challenge, and perhaps did not make a strong play to renew their sinecure.

However it came down, Michael got the job.

The poor overseers had NO IDEA what Michael and his staff would produce. The magazine had full-frontal nudity (female, of course) on the inside cover, pubic hair and all. (But the photo was tastefully grainy.) This was two years before Playboy did the same.

The center spread was a nude picture of Michael, sans dick, with a whole bunch of phallic symbols on a separate page, which could be cut out to create a “Pin the Penis on the Person” poster. Thoughtful man that he was, Michael had the reverse side of this page blank, so that cutting out items would not destroy content.

The magazine’s cover had the words PEN and IS, slightly touching, but leaning strongly in opposite directions. To the casual observer, the magazine’s title was PENIS. But the careful observer would see the 5-point Helvetica Light type on each side of PEN and IS, and then see the phrase “the pen is mightier than the sword.” Jejune now, but dangerous then. (Honest!)

The pages were full of political protest and social commentary and drug references. One page was a drawing of Hubert Humphrey with a Hitler mustache. The words on it: “Mein Humpf.” This was from a sign that Michael carried at a violent demonstration that took place at the Century Plaza Hotel in the summer of 1968, when LBJ was spending the night. I think Michael was beaten by the cops that night. But maybe that was someone else. It’s funny what one is unsure about after 48 years.

The back cover was a U.S. flag with about 400 stars on it. Every square inch of the magazine was something shocking and new for 1968, with typography, design and graphics that were new to behold. Even the size — square and large — was new.

In the telling, it seems sadly naive and staid. It’s like trying to explain why we once thought that Bob Hope was funny. It’s all about context. And back then, this magazine was a disappointment for the UCLA administration. There was an article in the L.A. Times about its disturbing departure from the tradition of campus humor magazines everywhere.

Even during the magazine’s production, there were problems. The typesetters refused to type in certain words, or to type entire pieces. But Michael was able to break in to the typesetters’ room, and he then figured out how to use the computers and the programs to produce the type we needed to paste up the magazine. He knew how to it all! After that, he and I worked on the type machines between 2:00 a.m. and 5:00 a.m. for several nights, and somehow the magazines were made, though with many horrible typos that made it to print.

We sold the magazines for 75 cents each — if my memory serves, 25 cents more than the price of the old humor magazine. We sold them by standing on the various campus walkways, sometimes suffering taunts and threats, but mostly enjoying warm support.

It all ended when Michael was fired. This happened because I turned over 200 copies of the magazine to some campus official, who told me that he wanted to place them in an off-campus bookstore to make more money. I thought this was pretty neat. But a few days later, another campus official came in to do an audit of the money we had collected. Guess what? We were $150 short. I did not get a receipt for the 200 copies that were taken, and the other official denied taking them from me. The evidence was irrefutable: We were crooks.

So Michael was accused of embezzling and was fired, with the “deal” being that if he agreed to leave the magazine peaceably, he wouldn’t be expelled from school. Michael and I knew what we were up against, so we slunk away.

The magazine, by the way, was called De Press. The experience revealed what would be (and already were) trademarks of Michael’s character: his energy, his talent, his ability to quickly figure out almost anything, his being always on the leading edge, and his uppitiness (to get control of the magazine even for a couple of months).

The next issue of the humor magazine returned to the Old Guard. Today, I see the previous editor’s name often listed as a writer on a popular cable show. Google indicates that the magazine is still called Satyr. I can find nothing about De Press.