The Sun Is 4 Years Old May 1st; From Underground to Community Newspaper

On May 1st, the SUN will begin it's fifth year of regular  publication in Ann Arbor. One of the few original "underground" papers which has managed to survive and even grow, we enter our fifth year in a relatively promising position. The "underground" movement of the sixties has now reached out to tens of millions. The experience of the "lost war" in Indochina, Watergate, a decade of political assassinations, inflation and unemployment, the infiltration of a life-affirming culture--have all created a higher level of awareness in America than ever before. Whereas in the sixties only a small minority of people were potential readers for alternative/advocative papers like the SUN, now the audience is huge. Legions of people are dissatisfied with the right-wing Ann Arbor News. the high manipulated Detroit "Free" Press and the established media in general.

While the SUN still faces big obstacles, especially on the economic front, we are now better staffed, equipped, experienced and circulated than ever before. Whereas one year ago all but three of our staff were part-time volunteers, there are now 14 people paid for working on this newspaper ($60 weekly before taxes). In the year coming up we have a better chance than ever of attaining our goal of a financially self-sufficient, activist, weekly alternative community newspaper.

On the occasion of reaching our fourth birthday, we thought you might like to know how we got here.

Our saga begins in 1964, when John and Leni Sinclair formed the co-operative Artist's Workshop of Detroit along with 14 others. The non-profit Workshop grew into several houses stuffed with jazz musicians, artists, poets, beatniks, and other members of what was then a tiny hip community in Detroit. With its weekly jazz/poetry jams and activities, the Workshop became one of the first alternative institutions of the then new culture, paralleling in some ways similar efforts on the two coasts.

As part of the multi-media activities, the Artist's Workshop Press was brought into creation, consisting of a mimeo machine "borrowed" from Wayne State University and some hijacked paper, ink and stencils. Published with this setup were a series of 500-copy editions of truly avant-garde jazz/poetry magazines "Work" and "Change," volumes by emerging national poets like Allen Ginsberg and Gary Snyder, and editions by local writers such as Sinclair, Jim Semark, and Allen Van Newkirk.

The press flourished until Sinclair was shipped off to prison for a six-month fling at Dehovo, courtesy of several undercover agents of the Detroit Narcotics Bureau, who were intent upon harassing the Workshop community. After getting out of prison, Sinclair and Van Newkirk published several issues of "Guerilla"; "a tabloid of culture and revolution."

Which brings us to our first incarnation. Guerilla was soon replaced by the "Warren-Forest SUN," named for the Wayne State campus area in Detroit. It was now 1967, the Summer of Love, when the mass cultural movement exploded into millions of altered minds. A new kind of music was invading AM radio in the form of Jefferson Airplane, the Doors and Bob Dylan. Timothy Leary, LSD and the widespread use of cannabis sativa were opening up new vistas and levels of consciousness in America's youth. People tried to get high on bananas and marched against the war. Nothing has been the same since.

The Warren-Forest SUN reflected these scenes. A 12-16-page tabloid, its pages were laid out with cultural propaganda, local news items, interviews with the likes of Leary, Sun Ra and Archie Shepp, the first Dope-O-Scope rundown available psychedelics, reports on police activities and other fare similar to that erupting nationwide in scores of newly emergent underground newspapers. The SUN, as well as the Fifth Estate, a less culturally oriented Detroit paper, provided a reflection of reality not available to the public elsewhere.

As the new SUN began publication, a new organization, also formed by Sinclair and friends, emerged. Trans-Love Energies ("Gets You There On Time") was a collective of people designed to help inform the cultural movement with a variety of activities, including managing, designing posters for, and doing the light-show at the Grande Ballroom. Soon the group took on management of the MC5, developing it into the most successful and political rock and roll band to emerge from Michigan.

But the naivete of the "Trans-Love" approach, idealistic and beautiful as it was in head-shops, be-ins and rock and roll gatherings throughout America, was not going to get off that easily. Whereas to the hippies of America what was needed was peace and love, the police and other guardians of the status quo were determined to pull their children firmly back into the Eisenhower years of silence and conformity. In January, 1967 the police raided the entire Warren-Forest community, arresting 56 people, including Sinclair. While the summer was of Love, it was also of black rebellions throughout America. The Detroit riots and the increasing use of mind-expanding drugs fueled a growing police state. In April of 1968, Martin Luther King was assassinated and a terrified Detroit establishment clamped a curfew down on the city.

The curfew shut down the Grande Ballroom, while the growing repression made operating a newspaper or anything else in Detroit next to impossible. So Trans-Love Energies moved to Ann Arbor, where survival seemed more of a possibility, and there was a large youth community to interact with.

Soon after moving to the research, or dope capital of the Midwest, depending on your orientation, Trans-Love began publishing sporadic mimeographed versions of the SUN. The street sheet became involved immediately in the struggle to establish the free summer concerts. It helped organize community meetings during the summer that seven coeds were murdered on the streets and Sheriff Harvey's Hogs (a wholly accurate euphemism) used the investigation as an excuse to harass hippies. The SUN helped initiate a Recall Harvey campaign, a Legal Self-Defense Fund (LSD) and otherwise reported on the dope of the day.

That October, 1968, Trans-Love became the White Panther Party, a more "militant" response to the police repression being suffered increasingly by the new culture and its activists. Modeled after ideas emanating from Huey Newton and Eldridge Cleaver, the WPP was a first attempt at organizing the new culture around an organization spearheaded in the mass media by a popular rock and roll band with its politics up front. While the WPP made many mistakes, engaging in meaningless, simplistic and alienating rhetoric much of the time (as did the BPP back then), the organization was one of the most creative of the late sixties political groups directing their activities at youth.

The SUN street-sheets kept appearing in hot situations while John Sinclair's case from the 1967 Warren-Forest raid came to a head. In July of 1969 Judge Robert Colombo sentenced Sinclair to the unusually harsh sentence of 9 1/2 - 10 years in prison for simple weed possession. Especially now that he was part of the "militant" WPP and manager of an intensely popular rock and roll band that spread the party's ideals, the state of Michigan wanted Sinclair behind bars.

They got him. After John went to prison the informational outlet for the WPP became the Ann Arbor ARGUS staff, led by Ken Kelley, who had built the paper up up into one of the more vital of America's underground press, along with Howard Kohn, later an investigative reporter for the Detroit Free Press. Soon after Sinclair went to prison, so did three other White Panthers-Pun Plamondon, Skip Taube, and Jack Forrest. Plamondon had been underground on the FBI's Ten Most Wanted List for allegedly blowing up the Ann Arbor CIA office he never knew existed.

With its leadership in prison, the White Panther Party began to re-evaluate its existence, along with its convict members through the mail. It was decided that far more emphasis needed to be placed on practical alternative programs and less on spouting rhetoric about offing pigs, which only brought down worse hear and did not organize anybody. While violence against the American government might be justified, its application or rhetorical reflection would only alienate the public, whose support would be necessary in order to affect any real changes.

As a result of these discussions, the Rainbow People's Party was formed on May 1, 1971, and that day the first issue of the SUN appeared as a regular tabloid in Ann Arbor. The Argus, meanwhile had been deserted by its original staff and become much less of a force, still tied to the rhetoric of 1969.

The new SUN began as a weekly, published from the basement of 1520 Hill St. by Gary Grimshaw, David Fenton, Ann Hoover and the entire RPP, which financially supported the paper. Soon the SUN moved back to a bi-weekly which featured articles on emerging local food coops, the parks program, demonstrations in Washington, local rock and roll bands, and the general growth of the local alternative community. It's primary focus in those early days, however, was the effort to free Sinclair from prison. The SUN was a major source of information on John's case in Michigan, helping to involve tens of thousands in the effort to secure his release. The "Free John" movement culminated in the December 10, 1971 Crisler Arena rally which was highlighted by the appearance of Stevie Wonder, Bobby Seale, and John and Yoko Lennon/Ono, where 15,000 free SUNs were distributed at the official program. The rally worked, as Sinclair walked out of Jackson prison a free man three days later.

From that point the SUN's focus, along with its general coverage of local events, turned to the Human Rights Party and the elections of April, 1972. The paper featured the HRP city council candidates issue after issue, interviewing them, reporting their activities, printing the HRP platform and program, urging people to register to vote, etc. Some months before the election, the SUN was being circulate for free in a bi-weekly edition of 15,000. It's safe to say we had a big impact on that election.

Nancy Wechsler and Jerry DeGrieck of the HRP were elected, to their own surprise, to City Council that year, the $5

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SUN History

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marijuana law and other progressive legislation were passed, including funding for human services, and spirits had never been higher. The paper turned to the state-wide initiative (MMI) to decriminalize marijuana and the effort to organize a local "Tribal Council." an amalgamation of local alternative institutions. The new People's Ballroom, the Blues and Jazz Festival, community radio at WNRZ and the Washington St. Community Center became major items of coverage, along with regular news and features in the political and cultural realms.

But soon unforeseen changes set in. The Community Center and Ballroom were destroyed by an arsonist in December of '72. Progressive radio at WNRZ was thrown off the air by its absentee owner. And the Human Rights Party began abandoning its original direction as a mass-based community party, becoming dominated by political ideologues who put the abstract in front of the practical. HRP decided to make their major focus in the fall, '72 campaign be opposition to McGovern, in the face of a positive mass movement to support him and thereby end the U.S. war against Indochina. HRP adopted a platform plank that demanded use of female pronouns all the time. Wechsler and DeGrieck began putting more energy into fighting their potential Democratic allies on the council than in accomplishing the concrete changes which could win voters over to the HRP. The party later went on to help elect Jim Stephenson and a Republican majority through a disastrous and forewarned vote split. The GOP majority contributed to an atmosphere of repression in Ann Arbor, which made operating alternative institutions increasingly difficult.

While this was happening, financial woes began beating down the paper, which was supported by loans gathered by the RPP and not enough through advertising and distribution. In those days most of the SUN staff paid little or no attention to economics. As a result, the SUN was forced to stop publication altogether for four months in 1973.

In addition the paper developed problems of a different nature. Without realizing it, the people on the SUN were becoming far too isolated from the rest of what was happening in town. The SUN over-emphasized the activities of the RPP, which published it with nothing but the best of intentions, and of the fledgling Tribal Council. The activities of these groups were certainly worthy of coverage, but so was a good deal more. Additionally, the alternative community was growing by leaps and bounds, and so was its level of intelligence and experience. Yet the literary level of the SUN stagnated, leaving much to be desired in terms of depth, quality and rhetoric.

Eventually some of the staff realized, with the prodding of John Sinclair especially, that the SUN had to change drastically or die. With the now-defunct RPP's help, the paper left the basement of Hill Street and moved out on its own, financially as well, to become more of a well-rounded community newspaper. Offices were secured downtown above the Blind Pig, where the SUN was edited by Linda Ross, who worked to regain the paper's lost credibility and readership.

From our offices above the Blind Pig Cafe on First Street, the SUN published a regular bi-weekly newspaper which has been growing in size, circulation and influence ever since. During that year the paper exposed undercover "narcotics agents;" helped to reenact the $5 marijuana law, spearheaded the drive to stop McDonald's, and uncovered the massive campaign by Citizens for Good Housing to defeat rent control. Fighting a continual deficit with loans from supporters, the SUN actually made it into the black in the summer of 1974 for the first time in history, due to increased advertising and circulation.

But while we were breaking even, it was with far too few staff people, too few pages, too little investment in distribution expansion and other things that were virtually necessary. So the staff decided to go into the red once more, to hire five or six paid staffers (at a mere $40 weekly), buy a number of coinboxes, and secure new offices directly on campus. We moved into our new offices above the Matrix Theatre on William Street in September of '74, and at the same time published the largest issue in our history, a full 88 pages, of which 25,000 copies were handed out free as a promotional device.

The SUN also jumped into weekly publication at that point, which proved to be a step beyond our reach, and was retracted last December back to bi-weekly publication. The weekly schedule proved too difficult due to a limited economy and limited staff. But during that period the SUN continued its activism, contributing to the drive to stop KRIM war research from moving into town, documenting the danger to the Ozone level by freon in spray cans, helping to pass the Preferential Voting System which the Republicans are currently subverting, and exposing more undercover anti-marijuana agents. The paper's regular features; especially the Community Calendar, National/international news and analysis, and cultural reviews, expanded greatly.

Which brings us up to the present. Having successfully completed our "Win A Pound of Colombian" contest, which greatly boosted circulation, the SUN is facing a promising future. While the paper is still suffering a small deficit and does not have the funds with which to expand as we'd like, while we still need more writers and upgraded all-around content, the SUN is clearly here to stay. It wouldn't have ever been possible without the dedication of our underpaid and overworked staff, nor without the support of numerous people in town who have contributed articles, ideas, criticism, and money. As we enter our fifth year, it is precisely this kind of support which will make the difference as to how well the SUN will be able to grow in the years to come.

--David Fenton, for the SUN Collective