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I have lived as a cruel, selfish killer among my brothers and sisters. I have hurt those I love and been hurt by them. I have sought the destruction of strangers as casually as I glance to the sky, and have found that even the saints are devils, that cognizance itself is contradiction, hypocrisy, and that we are all liars, all the time. I was fulfilling a requirement at Hampshire College.

Hampshire is a hotbed for creative and political thinking; I was only there for the creative. The course was sought-after, and didn't look too terribly painful. The course would explore the dynamics of power, policy making, the manipulation of democratic populations, and the history of civil disobedience in the United States — from the workers unions and the labor clashes of the early twentieth century to the non-violent resistance of the late 60's.

The class was held in a giant auditorium — even though there weren't that many of us. I sat way in the back.

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From the high seats, I looked down, absorbing the material from a distance, participating as necessary, and studying Michael Klare for my outside-of-class Michael-Klare impression — he had a distinct hand-waving mannerism, and overused the word "vis. For the final paper, we had to identify a "cause of war.

My paper covered the span of what we had studied during the semester, and it was fairly well-structured and polished, and about 5, words, well-exceeding the 2, word minimum. Read more …. If the twentieth century, as Walter Benjamin characterized it, was the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, the twenty-first century will be the Age of Simulation.

We will each be, in our own way, simulations of however many identities we have the time or patience to pursue. It struck me that if only such animals became aware of their strength we should have no power over them. This disgusting scene has remained in my memory all my life.

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This little scene appeared to me, so to speak, as an emblem, as something which very graphically demonstrated the link between cause and effect. Here every blow dealt at the animal leaped out of the blow dealt at the man. Read more Rhyme is the rock on which thou art to wreck.

Poesy is itself an intimidating word. The lexicon is no more inviting: iambs, pentameter, feet, trochees, anapests. It was big time. One day I fell asleep on the Godfrey show. He thought it was funny—thank God! Those nightclubs helped foment the great folk ferment. By , Bob had recorded four albums for Riverside, two albums for Elektra, appeared on the Arthur Godfrey radio and TV show, played at the Gate of Horn for nearly a year, all while performing at clubs across the country.

By , he also had four children, three daughters with wife Rose, and a son with Jovita who soon married Bob Camp. In the third week appears a young guy with a crew cut, an infectious grin, and a banjo on his chest. From that moment on, the electricity of Bob Gibson caught on.

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Just as Bob Gibson was on the cutting edge so was his manager, Albert Grossman, equally ahead of his time. Grossman co-founded the Newport Folk Festival in It very exciting. Then there was the Newport Folk Festival! Co-producer, George Wein, had told me and everyone else who was on the bill not to add anyone, but after singing a few songs, I brought Joan onstage. I knew I could get away with it. It was magical! People have tended to make a big deal of this, but I never have known why.

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Someone was bound to notice it was there! Within me the demons engaged in a riotous dance, coaxing me with the soft light, the maleness around me, the overt sexuality that erupted as inhibitions were anesthetized by alcohol. I knew only that at age 18, I was not cut out for the cocktail crowd. I needed my academic, rebellious, coffee-drinking admirers who listened single-mindedly to their madonna, and dared not touch her.

After other performers, Bob went on… Finally, I heard Bob Gibson announce a guest and say a few words about me. He played the string, and with 18 strings and two voices we sounded pretty impressive. We made it to the end and there was tumultuous applause. An exorbitant amount of fuss was made over me when we descended from the stage. Al Grossman sent me. He thought we should sing together.

We just looked each other over like two stray dogs. Once we started to sing and it was great, I was hooked. He has a great musical ear and a very exciting voice. But we refused.

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It was incredible the people who hung out there, like Studs Terkel and Shel Silverstein. A lot of creative energy around there. Shel started hanging out there in He was living over at the Playboy mansion then. At that time he was exclusively doing cartoons. He became one of the most important people in my life.

Gibson and Camp went beyond mere electricity to megaton atomic explosions. Gibson on guitar or banjo laying down riffs so easily, so casually, you never realized how complex they were until you heard someone else trying to imitate him.

  1. Big Foot.
  2. The Gardens Of Light!
  3. Richard John Smith - Michael Row The Boat Ashore/Conversation - Bullet, 1979 - B 170 - 7 Single.

But beyond the music, there was plain good fun. Camp bouncing one-liners off anyone and anything. Prepared shtick that veered on into wild improvisation—satiric bits and songs on local celebs, the Chicago cops, sacred institutions- even satire on folk music itself. They were only together for one year. Yet anyone who has ever heard Gibson and Camp at the Gate of Horn, anyone who has ever seen them perform together, will never forget the experience.

It was in a basement.

Chicago is full of places like that. That bar was really the social center for the hip crowd. Gibson and Camp were the social directors. After a while I think Gibson and Camp even started to look alike. They must have weighed about 45 pounds together and they sat and they whispered and they looked like two crooked English jockeys fixing a race.

The final night there was really a blast. Gibson, Camp and Brown they were up there singing, shouting and playing and stomping and wailing and yelping and barking and …. I loved to ski, and I would ski all day and then sing at night in ski lodges to support my family. When it was ski time and the snow was good it was real hard to get me out of town. I started to write some songs with a couple of gals who were writers for the Denver Post.

I decided to write a musical about skiing. I also rewrote a couple of traditional things and put ski lyrics to them. When I got the Limelite club, he damn near destroyed my life before it started.