Before there was an internet, people had to scour old books to find skills and items abandoned to time. The movement to do it yourself extended to urban and communal living. Stewart Brand recognized this need for information and created the Whole Earth Catalog, access to Tools. It fed your head with ideas and tools with which to accomplish dreams. Stewart was part of the early silicon valley modem bulletin board that connected major universities with Darpa connections and became the progenitor of the web.
By the way the committee to set standards to ease communications that became the internet WAS chaired by Al Gore.
Light shows and concerts advanced the technology of live performances with items like monitors (Thanks to Owsley) and better amplification.
Hippies loved novelty and new toys, but had a love-hate relationship with technology, fearing the plastic disposable society would make them Plastic People. Some turned their back on all technology and moved to rural communes that ran like the 19th century or earlier.
Try to find your way back to the garden
But others gathered in grarages to make screens that showed colors in response to music, or made blueboxes to defeat long-distance charges and went on to found Apple Computer.
The Great Speckled Bird held a gathering of the tribe in May 2008.
Flock plans to celebrate paper that soared from underground
By Keith Graham Staff Writer
Hatched with a hopeful chirp by a flock of space-age muckrakers, it soared into flight 20 years ago billing itself as “The South’s Standard Underground Newspaper.”
With revolutionary relish, the Great Speckled Bird swooped from controversy to controversy the next several years, calling out for peace and racial justice and the making of a counterculture in an offbeat manner that attracted more readers than any other weekly paper in Georgia. But the self-proclaimed “anti-war, anti-racist” newspaper plummeted and crashed in 1976, its wings clipped by lack of enthusiasm in times that were a’changin’.
Gone but not forgotten by a generation that found it groovy if far-out required reading, the Great Speckled Bird will fly again if only for a day on Saturday, ironically the start of a weekend of memorials to victims of war, including a war the Bird firmly opposed. Ex-Bird “readers, sellers, writers, staffers and all beings of this known universe” are invited to a reunion doubling as a benefit for Radio Free Georgia (WRFG) and The Fund for Southern Communities at the Atlanta Water Works Lodge.
In traditional laid-back fashion, the’ event’s organizers say they do not know exactly what will happen, though there will be some music and an exhibit to remind folks of the gory glory days. “Hopefully, we won’t have riots,” said a chuckling Tom Coffin, who created a forerunner of the Bird — The Emory Herald-Tribune, later called the Big American Review — during a brief stay as an Emory graduate student.
Coffin, 44, a crane operator who came South after earning a degree at Oregon’s Reed College, and his wife, Stephanie, an activist from the University of Washington, were among the 20 to 25 founders, mostly white civil rights activists, who chipped in $25 to $100 a head to create the Bird in March 1968. They borrowed the paper’s name from a country song recorded by Roy Acuff, which in turn had borrowed from a passage in the Bible’s book of Jeremiah about a bird different from the others.
On the inaugural issue’s front page, Coffin spelled out the philosophy. The Bird, he promised, would “bitch and badger, carp and cry and perhaps give Atlanta (and environs, ’cause we’re growing, baby) a bit of honest and interesting and, we trust, even readable journalism.” It also would offer alternatives to the American way of life for “turned on” readers.
The other front-page story in that issue set the tone for what was to come with a blast at Ralph McGill, one of the icons of Southern moderation, even liberalism. “What’s It All About, Ralphie?” attacked the early civil rights advocate for becoming a “leading exponent of U.S. imperialism and deception” by backing the Vietnam War.
In subsequent issues, the Bird told its readers about the Black Panthers, Ho Chi Minh, the drug bust of local hippie Mother David and striking garbage workers. Readers saw regular coverage of theater, art and music, too. Not just the music of acts such as the psychedelic Vanilla Fudge and mellow Donovan, but even bluegrass and country. I
The Bird arose at a time when ‘ underground newspapers were flapping their wings from Berkeley, home of the Barb, to New York, where the East Village Other and the Rat were the rage.
Robert Glessing, author of “The Underground Press in America,” estimates there were 456 underground publications by 1970.
A minimum of 1.5 million people read the undergrounds by 1972, according to Laurence Learner, author of “The Paper Revolutionaries,” and other estimates put the figures as high as 18 million.
A midsize alternative, the Bird topped out with a respectable circulation of 25,000 and won plaudits coast to coast. In Learner’s estimation, it displayed casual sophistication in writing style and a cool graphic brilliance. In a feature on the underground press in 1971, the “60 Minutes” television show said that if the Los Angeles Free Press was The New York Times of the undergrounds, Atlanta’s Bird was its Wall Street Journal, a literate paper with an analytical bent.
But success did not come without struggle. From the beginning, the Bird faced both external and internal pressures that made its flight a dizzying one.
After a damaging local smear campaign, the paper was forced to go all the way to New Orleans to find a printer. Atlanta police seized the May 26, 1969, issue, featuring a cover cartoon of an armed man shouting an obscenity under a Coca- Cola logo. Bird hawkers were harassed by police, and the paper had to go to court to maintain use of the U.S. mail system. In 1972, the paper, which carried no insurance, was the victim of an unsolved firebombing that demolished its offices near Piedmont Park.
And if the outside world didn’t succeed in destroying the paper, it sometimes seemed its own staff might
Learner’s book used the Bird as “a particularly clear example” of internal tension between cultural and political forces, a common problem for the underground papers. And staff members acknowledge there were constant discussions to define the correct ideology at regular Monday and Thursday meetings. Committed to the notion of participatory democracy, the Bird staff was organized as a collective that made decisions by majority vote and preferably by consensus.
Picking cover art, even choosing what color ink to use, was often controversial. As the women’s movement gained strength, a women’s caucus was formed to battle staff sexism. And bitter debates developed over whether the paper, which began, according to one staffer, with roots in existentialist Christian philosophy, should adopt pure Marxist- Leninist positions.
Even amid the strife, however, Bird staffers continued to try to shape a radicalism uniquely suited to the South. “A lot of us were from the South, and we kind of thought in Southern terms,” said Steve Wise, who covered the peace movement within the military, international affairs and rock ‘n’ roll.
Wise believes the Bird contributed positively to the changes that transformed the region. ‘You can see change occurring. I grew up in a segregated society,” said Wise, a Newport News, Va., native now working as a courier while writing a thesis on Latin American history for a master’s degree from Georgia State University. “When we started, the level of racism here was a lot higher than it is now. … For basically a white paper, our pro-civil rights coverage was different from any paper around. “
Howard Romaine, another founder who is now a lawyer and. aspiring country music songwriter in Nashville, Tenn., agreed that the Bird had an impact on race relations. “I never did have any revolutionary expectations,” he said, “except for the notion that black people voting in the South was revolutionary.”
Other former staffers say the paper helped to end the Vietnam War and to create a climate that has prevented the United States from going to war in Central America. And on the local level, they say the Bird helped diminish police brutality.
But by the early 1970s, some of the original staff members already had begun to fly the coop, some to other movement jobs, a few to other alternative media, most simply to try to make ends meet as they began to raise families. (The Bird’s, salaries of $25 to $60 a week did not go far.) ,
While staff” members could be replaced and were, readers could not — once members of the movement that provided the circulation base began moving into the Me Decade, losing much of their interest in the issues covered by the paper. “After ’72, the movement just sort of collapsed,” said Wise, who will celebrate his 45th birthday at the reunion. “The anti-war movement went into a very swift eclipse when the draft ended.” In re-reading the papers lately, he said, he was interested up until 1973. Afterward, the paper just seemed to be all critique without any feeling that anything positive — action by a movement — would result, he said.
A 1984 attempt at reviving the Bird with about half new staff and half old hands fizzled. “Basically, it was sort of a nostalgic thing, and there really wasn’t a market,” said Wise, who participated partly because his fondest hope had once been that the Bird would become a permanent institution like New York’s Village Voice.
“I think it was a great tragedy what happened to the Bird,” said Romaine. To become commercially viable, however, the paper would have had to open itself up to more diverse viewpoints. And, as several staffers commented, the Bird was always short on people who knew a lot about running a successful business.
However, Saturday will not be a time for pondering what might have been but for celebrating what was. “We’ve had great times laughing and talking and remembering all our old arguments,” said Stephanie Coffin, a part-time English instructor at Georgia State University who was one of the reunion organizers. “That was a fantastic period. It was an incredibly creative, incredibly alive period. And it was totally consuming. It left a vacuum in a lot of people’s lives.”
Lester did not like ‘colored people’ mixing with ‘Good folks’. Even the AJC realized Lester felt much the same way about colorful people.
The Phooey party mix intentionally included both.
Phooey Party invitation
Such was Maddox’s notariety that the party got mentioned in the New York Times
Maddox used the axe handle as a symbol. He gave them out at his restaurant as “Pickrick toothpicks” to intimidate anyone trying to segregate his business. He then used that not so subtle symbol of segregation in his successful run for governor.
The Phooey Party made a peace symbol of axe handles.
Lester was a fool and acted so in public as camouflage for his racism as benevolent affection for his ‘lesser Colored folks’. He even had a Black man as Uncle Tom join him in a stage act. One of the neighbors to the old Governor’s mansion was Mugsy. In 1965 Time Magazine described him thusly: “Milton M. (“Muggsy”) Smith, 63, an Atlanta insurance salesman who made a name during 16 years in the state legislature trying to repeal every segregation law in Georgia.” Read more: http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,842098,00.html#ixzz0lgEuyZnw
In 1961 Muggsy had run interference for Lester’s run for mayor of Atlanta. By drawing Black voters to himself as their benevolent friend, he almost got Lester elected mayor. Imagine if he had been Mayor during the events of Allen’s term, the early 1960s. Don’t think Atlanta would have been known as ‘the city too busy to hate’.
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Ever loyal to Lester, Muggsy gathered supporters to jeer at arriving guests and called the police repeatedly to complain.
The police chief was sad he had to leave the party early lest he be seen by Muggsy’s group.
Lester was a racist buffoon, but remember Atlanta also had seriously evil and dangerous racists like J. B. Stoner, who ran for governor as the White People’s Party candidate and defended King’s assassin. Hard to laugh at such hatred, but drag queens suckcede on their 70s TV show.
Atlanta Journal 4/6/67 Lester’s Vigilantes GOV. LESTER Maddox has announced the formation of a Committee of One Thousand, made up of people all over the state. Its object is to tell him what is going on. Through history more innocent people have ” been hung, burned, pressed to death, stoned, exiled, stretched on racks and calumnied by this means than by any other. The spirit of the committee is the spirit of the old Klan. In the good old days here in Georgia people were lynched, tarred and feathered, fired from their jobs and driven from the county by means of just this sort of friendly information. The idea is as old as injustice. as built-in as human spite, and has been the favorite device of dictators in all times and places. THE IDEA is mistake and ought to be dropped before the reputation of the first innocent citizen has been damaged. But to give the governor credit, there is a shadow of justification for this committee. He says its object is to keep a watchful eye on the functions of state government. A watchful eye indeed is needed. The law is supposed to provide it. Is the governor’s suggestion a measure of the failure of our legal syslem? If so the remedy is reform of the system, and not vigilantes. And what about the independent watchdog agency, proposed in and so handily defeated by Gov. Maddox’s Senate?
I would really like to get on your mailing list. I grew up in Atlanta, Met some of the first guys I played guitar with, (Duane Allman and Richard Betts) at t he Twelfth Gate C.H. where I lugged my Fender Dual Showman and 1962 SG Les Paul for my audition. I was young, not too impressionable, full of love for life and music. I have fond memories of the friends I made on P’Tree, between 10th and 14th Streets. I wonder why no one ever mentions the “Pig Pen” Police station that was opened in the middle of the strip. I remember them being very nice for the most part, unlike the Police from other areas of Atlanta. …well anyway, I am enjoying reminiscing through your site. Thanks for the mems. I remember many free concerts in the Park and even jammed a few times with some groups there. -Bryan Smith
The Fruit Jungle was the place I always went before, after, or during concerts in the park. It was also the only late night stop for munchies on the way home in the wee hours. A very colorful place and one where it seemed, the people were always welcomed.
Although not on the strip one of the other places I did not see mentioned was Comes the Sun in Buckhead.
Duke Klauck opened the store in 1969. It was open until 1974.
I worked there for a period of time. The store had the largest supply of rolling papers, blue jeans and other supplies at the time. There was an in house leather worker and I believe it was one of the first stores to sell water beds. Few people knew that Duke was a Yale Graduate. He moved to Santa Fe and started the spa/wellness center Ten Thousand Waves. Ten Thousand Waves is still in operation in Santa Fe.
Rose
My husband, Bob Levy was the co-owner of The Merry Go Round store and opened Sexy Sadie’s, Freedom Shoe Company and Percy Flasher’s, across the street. We met in 1969, when he and Lenny Wineglass just had the Merry Go Round. –Vicky Levi
The Zoo was an apartment building that became a crash pad location and an informal commune centered around Oxford College students. The apartment had been owned by Harvey, the Pookah, an ex-Oxfordian who took in Jan Jackson and Tom Jones. Jan was an Earth Mother Hippie who took in and befriended literally everyone. Going to the park with Jan was like a royal visit as everyone dropped by to say hello, perform, or share.
Here is a photo courtesy Carter Tomassi, who also came by The Zoo. It shows Curtis, one of the still rare Southern Black hippies, Dave, Stoney, and Abe.
Dave Hoffman writes- The photo in Piedmont Park is me, Curtis Winfrey, Stoney Mae (Priscilla Star Hunnicutt) and I think thats Abe aka (Roger Wilson & Edward Brown), behind Curtis. (I’d love to hear from any of these friends from The Zoo. Tom and Jan had a son Topher. Found Topher! He runs the Highland Lounge)
This is the place to collect your memories about Atlanta’s hip community from about 1967 to about 1977 – “Something happening here. What it is ain’t exactly clear”. Whatta Decade! How was it for you?
Hipsters from an earlier period in Atlanta – that is undocumented. Help us change that by telling your story, and sharing photos.
We need other perspectives to get it right.
What was it like to be a gay man or woman in Atlanta before 1967?
What was it like to be a hip African American in Lester Maddox Georgia?
What was it like to be a biracial couple in Lester Maddox Georgia?
We don’t know, but you might be able to tell us.
Did the ch-ch-changes change your life?
Curious minds want to know.
Here is what we want to know to start- (digress freely)
1.When did you first come to Atlanta and what brought you here?
2. When did you first visit The Strip?
3. What was your best experience associated with The Strip and the hip community?
4. What was your worst experience associated with The Strip and the hip community?
5. Did your experiences at that time effect your life? If so, what did you learn or take away from it all?
6. It seems everyone around in that time and place has an Allman Brothers story. Share your Allman Brothers story if you have one please.
Tell us to what name you wish your story accredited. If you wish to use a “street name” or be anonymous, please give us a way to contact you for furthur information.
If you are in the Atlanta area, we can arrange to digitally tape your interview if you prefer.
Where Penn ends at 8th Street is an apartment house. In 1969 and a bit, it was called The Zoo. Jan Jackson, Tom Jones and Dave Hoffman, friends from college, lived in an upstairs apartment.I was visiting on a Sunday morning in Spring 1969, May 11th.
Three guys came in the front door. I recognized one as Berry Oakley, the bass player from The Roeman’s who’d played in my hometown in South Georgia. Someone said one of the other hippie guys played guitar with Aretha Franklin. They announced they were a new band up from Macon to play in Piedmont Park. The other guy had led them to a friend at The Zoo for attitude adjustment prior to the gig.
Free music Piedmont Park was starting to be a regular Sunday event at that time. We wandered over eager to see who would play today. The stone steps were like hip hullabaloo. Some of the best musicians Atlanta had to offer had graced the steps , but so had some neophytes not yet ready for the stage, and even some who would never be ready.
The Allman Brothers looked like just another group of longhaired hippie musicians, but they had two drummers and one was black. That was unusual in 1969 Atlanta. The instant they started to play two more things became obvious. Two guitars were playing leads that intertwined around each other seductively, and these guys were so much better than anything we’d ever heard live. The bite and snarl of the blues rocked along on propulsive rhythms. The songs were old blues and originals, but all were like nothing heard before. Recognizable fragments of other songs were sneaking through, but as soon as recognized they submerged again to let something else arise. “Wasn’t that Donovan’s song about a mountain?”
Usually when bands played people walked dogs, threw Frisbees, barbecued, and just enjoyed Atlanta’s park on a Spring Sunday. Today everything else came to a halt. White, black, young, and older all focused totally on the Allman’s music. The crowd was a dancing party focused towards the stone steps.
The next week’s community newspaper, The Great Speckled Bird, devoted the cover to a picture of Duane Allman in his STP t-shirt playing on the stone steps at Piedmont. The accompanying article stated that everyone there that day knew they had experienced something extraordinary and unforgettable, and it was too big to stay just in Atlanta, or the South, or the US.
The community followed The Allman Brothers to gigs both free and paid; they were a guarantee of an outstanding musical experience.
The Brothers again played Piedmont Park July 7th, 1969 with The Grateful Dead for a free concert after the First Atlanta Pop Festival. Their set amazed the festival goers still in town. Then they joined the Dead to jam at the end of the evening and more than held their own. Now they really found their musical niche, and the secret was out.
The Brothers recently returned to play Piedmont 9/8/7 and the infusion of new blood plus the vets, made the groove live again.
Talk about conflicted emotions. I had four of these. Then my grandfather, who I loved very much and had stayed with nights to care for, had died. His funeral was scheduled for Sept. 11, 1964! (note date on tickets I had)
Rain or shine, it should have said or hurricane, which is what occurred. Otherwise my father had planned to surprise me and fly me down..
The next year they came to Fulton Stadium in Atlanta. Tickets sold out before South Georgians got a chance.
A 38th Anniversary look at The Beatles concert at Atlanta Stadium
We were told a story we are unable to check, but pass on since it is so great a story, true or not.
It is said… an Atlanta policeman went to the locker room of the Atlanta Stadium just before show time and caught one George Harrison partaking of a magic cigarette. The officer was sticking to the book and arresting him. Big hubub. Brian Epstein offering anything to just forget it all. Head officer comes and says, “Listen to that crowd! If these guys don’t go on, there will be a riot and a lot of little girls going home with broken hearts today. Can we come to a better agreement than creating a broken hearts club, Sgt. Pepper?”
Sgt. Pepper got the message and tore up the citation. Good story whatever.
