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The perilous fight: the rise of Ramparts magazine, 1965-1966.

AT ITS PEAK, Ramparts magazine was America's premier leftist publication. Founded by Edward Keating in 1962, it began as a Catholic literary quarterly based in Menlo Park, California. But when a young Warren Hinckle became editor in 1964, he turned Ramparts into a monthly, hired Dugald Stermer as art director, shifted the magazine's focus to political topics, and recruited Robert Scheer to write about U.S. involvement in Vietnam. Over the next four years, Ramparts moved to San Francisco, adopted a cutting-edge design, forged links to the Black Panther Party, exposed illegal CIA activities in America and Vietnam, and published the diaries of Che Guevara and staff writer Eldridge Cleaver.

A Time magazine headline in 1967--"A Bomb in Every Issue"--described the magazine's impact. (1) The same year, Ramparts earned a George Polk Award for excellence in magazine journalism, and its circulation climbed to almost 250,000. But the magazine declined as quickly as it had risen. After filing for bankruptcy in 1969, Ramparts was reorganized and published with diminishing success until 1975, when it closed for good. Since then, the Ramparts story has slipped off the public radar. (2)

Ramparts' rapid ascent was propelled by an extraordinary combination of events, decisions, and improvisations undertaken shortly after Keating ceded editorial control of the magazine to Hinckle. This essay, adapted from a longer study of the magazine's history and influence, focuses on an especially critical period in the magazine's development. (3) Although Ramparts' success cannot be traced to any specific person, Hinckle's decision to hire Robert Scheer dramatically changed the course of the magazine, and Ramparts' mercurial confluence of raw talent, youthful energy, and dazzling showmanship would shape progressive journalism for a generation.


As Hinckle took the editorial reins at Ramparts, the nation was slowly turning its gaze to Vietnam. Few had protested when the Kennedy administration backed the regime of Ngo Dinh Diem, but by 1963, Diem had lost support even in South Vietnam, where the Buddhist majority resented his pro-Catholic policies. When the Kennedy administration signaled that a coup would be welcome, South Vietnamese generals assassinated Diem and his brother in early November 1963. Three weeks later, Kennedy himself was slain in Dallas.

The following year, a U.S. spy ship reported that it had been fired upon in the Gulf of Tonkin, and President Lyndon Johnson ordered a retaliatory air strike against two North Vietnamese naval bases. Three days later, and three months before the 1964 presidential election, Congress authorized Johnson to use whatever force was necessary to support freedom and protect peace in Southeast Asia. Although Johnson declared that he sought no wider war, he also maintained that the United States would defend its national interests.


Ramparts rejected the official line. Its cover photograph of 1965 was a dramatic close-up of a vulnerable Vietnamese woman and child. Inside was an interview with U.S. Senator Frank Church, Keating's friend from their undergraduate days at Stanford. Church called the U.S. intervention in Vietnam a mistake but insisted that America was obliged to support the South Vietnamese effort. "The thing we must remember," he said, "is that there is no way for us to win their war for them." He called the South Vietnamese government "incompetent, to say the least," and warned that the United States must be prepared to withdraw if that government proved incapable of prevailing. (4)

The issue also included a long article by Robert Scheer on naval medical officer Thomas Dooley and his book, Deliver Us from Evil. Although little remembered today, Dooley was a well-known figure with a remarkable personal history. Born into an affluent Midwestern family, he attended Notre Dame University and squeaked through medical school before joining the navy in 1954. He volunteered for a mission called Passage to Freedom, whose purpose was to transport predominantly Catholic refugees to South Vietnam after communists took control of the north. Administering a medical unit in Haiphong, he successfully prevented major epidemics in the refugee camps. His efforts drew the attention of journalists on the lookout for human-interest stories, and he soon decided to write a book about helping Vietnamese refugees. (5) Published in 1956, Deliver Us from Evil presented the Vietnam conflict as a morally simple one between godless communists and freedom-loving Vietnamese. "We had come late to Vietnam, but we had come," Dooley wrote. "And we brought not bombs and guns, but help and love." (6) The book sold briskly and was translated into more languages than any previous book except the Bible. (7)


In his article, Scheer argued that the lack of historical context in Dooley's book made it an unreliable guide to Vietnamese politics. In particular, Dooley neglected the effects of French colonialism and the popular uprising against it. For that reason, Scheer maintained, the book "served to greatly confuse the American public on the true situation in Vietnam. It gave the delusion that we were simply helping a whole people along the path to freedom when for better or worse they wanted to travel the other way." (8)


Scheer's contribution marked a watershed in Ramparts' development. Edward Keating's passion--and his wife Helen's money--had launched the magazine, Hinckle had transformed it, and art director Dugald Stermer was upgrading its look. But Scheer added political insight and deeper ideological commitments that grew out of his upbringing, studies, and activism.

Scheer was born and raised in New York City near the Allerton Avenue "Coops," the cooperative apartment complex in the Bronx built by communists in the 1920s. Both of his parents were garment workers and labor activists. His father, a German immigrant, was an erstwhile Lutheran, Wobbly, and communist who was kicked out of the party for refusing to settle a strike. Scheer lived with his mother, a Russian Jew who never applied for U.S. citizenship, in a building whose tenants were mostly Russian Jews or Russian Orthodox. (9) A latchkey kid, he delivered milk, scalped tickets, worked in a stencil factory, and took odd jobs around the neighborhood to supplement his mother's meager income.

Scheer struggled with learning disorders as a youth, but a science teacher encouraged him to study engineering, pointing out that it was his best chance to enter college. Once admitted to City College of New York, he switched his major to economics. He also learned to debate at City College, where verbal conflict bordered on the gladiatorial. When his classes were over, he worked at the post office before returning to his mother's apartment late in the evening.

After graduation, Scheer attended Syracuse University but soon transferred to the University of California, Berkeley, to study economics. Once there, he was offered a fellowship at the Center for Chinese Studies, but his interests weren't limited to Asia. "I couldn't go to China," he recalled later, "but I could go to Cuba." (10) He made that trip in the summer of 1960. Back in Berkeley, he gave impassioned speeches about Cuba and American foreign policy on the university campus near Sather Gate. Maurice Zeitlin, a graduate student in sociology and a charismatic speaker, joined him in that effort. After one of their stem-winders, Bay Area poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti approached them and suggested that they write a book based on their speeches for City Lights, his North Beach publishing company and bookstore. Scheer conducted some of his research at the Center for Chinese Studies, whose archives contained transcripts of Cuban radio programs. Because of his dyslexia, he dictated whole chapters. For editorial help, the authors recruited David Horowitz, a graduate student in English and a member of their Marxist study group.

Scheer's work on the book didn't help his standing at the Center for Chinese Studies. When a new director was appointed, Scheer was reprimanded for misusing the center's copier and lost his fellowship. "They were pissed off that I was writing a book and giving speeches," he said later. (11) He turned to the economics department for financial support but came away empty-handed.

Upon finishing his master's thesis, Scheer celebrated with Zeitlin in Berkeley before they headed across the Bay Bridge on Scheer's motor scooter. Their plan was to show the thesis to Ferlinghetti at City Lights. While driving on the bridge, they noticed that other drivers and passengers were gesturing at them, which they construed as hostile reactions to their beards and long hair. But when they turned around, they saw the pages of Scheer's thesis blowing off the back of the scooter, across the traffic lanes, and into the bay. "In those days, it was very difficult to make a copy of a large manuscript," Scheer recalled, "so I was out of luck." (12)

Although he never received his master's degree, Scheer continued working on the Cuba book with Zeitlin. In the end, however, Ferlinghetti chose not to publish it. Stuffed with charts and tables, it was too academic for City Lights. "I wanted a book like the speech you gave," Ferlinghetti told them. (13) The manuscript eventually landed at Grove Press, the avant-garde publisher, after sixteen other publishers turned it down. Cuba: Tragedy in Our Hemisphere finally appeared in 1963. By that time, the missile crisis of October 1962 had raised U.S.-Cuba relations to fever pitch. That showdown, Zeitlin and Scheer argued, "... epitomizes the failure and dangers of much of our foreign policy." In the case of Cuba, it was a policy based on "false assumptions, self-righteous moralizing, and considerable arrogance toward the Cuban Revolutionary Government." (14)

After losing his fellowship, Scheer worked at City Lights, where he read widely and eventually came upon an article about Vietnam in China Quarterly. His interest piqued, he learned that Madame Ngo Dinh Nhu, Diern's sister-in-law, would be visiting San Francisco in 1963. Scheer helped organize a protest outside her hotel, the luxurious Sheraton-Palace. The next year, he traveled to Vietnam as a freelance journalist; Paul Krassner, publisher of The Realist, bought his ticket in return for an article on the political situation there. More than twenty publishers passed on Scheer's subsequent pamphlet, How the United States Got Involved in Vietnam, before the Center for the Study of Democratic Institutions, a think tank based in Santa Barbara, published it in 1965. Scheer complained to Krassner that the editing process was like having one of his balls cut off; Krassner told him to send the other one to him at The Realist. (15)

Scheer's pamphlet offered a similar conclusion to the one presented in the Cuba book: namely, that a flawed policy had grown out of an unchallenged American consensus about anticommunist efforts abroad. "The idea that Communist or Viet Minh rule under Ho Chi Minh might be better for the Vietnamese than any alternative political system has never really been examined in the United States because it is unthinkable," he maintained. (16)

Scheer's big break at Ramparts came only after Hinckle's wife and Scheer's girlfriend met while working at a downtown San Francisco brokerage. The two couples began to socialize, and Hinckle was soon touting Scheer at the office. When he mentioned Scheer's intellect to Keating, the publisher reportedly replied, "Never hire anyone smarter than you. They'll try and take over." (17) Scheer had his own doubts about Keating, whom he described as "an odd duck." Their first lunch together was served by topless waitresses, which distracted Scheer. "It didn't seem safe to serve hot food that way," he later remarked. (18)

Keating bridled at Scheer's Berkeley-style radicalism and brash manner, but Hinckle stressed his Vietnam expertise and argued that he could help recruit leftist investors. Scheer's Berkeley connections also were useful in raising Keating's profile. In May 1965, Scheer and Keating spoke at the Vietnam teach-in on the Berkeley campus along with Norman Mailer, I. F. Stone, and other notables.

Scheer's role at the magazine began to expand, and in July 1965, he coordinated a special report on Southeast Asia. The cover featured a cartoon of Ho Chi Minh in a pose resembling George Washington crossing the Potomac. The issue included Scheer's exclusive interview with Prince Sihanouk of Cambodia as well as two other articles, one of which he coauthored with Hinckle. Drawing from Scheer's Vietnam pamphlet, it traced the origins of U.S. support for Diem to his 1950 conversation with Michigan State University political scientist Wesley Fishel in a Toleyo tea room. The interview with Prince Sihanouk, who had declined U.S. aid, warned of a humiliating defeat for the Americans in Vietnam. Sihanouk predicted that a major confrontation would favor the spread of communism in Southeast Asia. "Your compatriots understand nothing of Asia," he told Scheer. "They are afraid of it! They mistrust it! And they are astonished that they are not loved!" (19) The following month, Scheer was promoted to Southeast Asia correspondent; by October, he was listed as foreign editor.


During this time, Scheer also was working on Ramparts' first major investigative piece. Published in April 1966, it was a classic whistle-blower story about U.S. policy in Vietnam. While digging through government documents at the UC Berkeley library, Scheer had come upon the name of Stanley Sheinbaum, a Michigan State University professor who became codirector of MSU's Vietnam Project in 1957. In that position, Sheinbaum worked knowingly with the CIA, but due to an administrative oversight, he had never signed a secrecy pledge. As part of his duties, he recruited trainers to set up a police force in South Vietnam. But on a trip to Saigon, Sheinbaum was denied access to an entire floor of the building that was supposedly under his authority. Feeling that his original goals had been badly compromised, Sheinbaum resigned from the project in 1959. (20)

By the time Scheer contacted him, Sheinbaum was working at the Center for the Study of Democratic Institutions. After Scheer told him that the CIA had used the Vietnam Project to interrogate and torture Vietnamese nationals, Sheinbaum cooperated with Scheer on the Ramparts story and even wrote its introduction. The issue's cover featured an illustration of a busty Madame Nhu wearing an MSU cheerleading outfit and holding a college pennant. Inside, the expose's other characters were depicted in cheerleading, coaching, and football gear. (21)


In addition to undermining official pronouncements about U.S. policy in Vietnam, the MSU story startled the U.S. intelligence community. On April 18, 1966, CIA director William Raborn ordered a "rundown" on Ramparts, and especially Sheinbaum and Scheer, "on a high-priority basis." The order seemed to violate the National Security Act of 1947, which had established the CIA and prohibited it from spying on U.S. residents. The rundown traced the development of the magazine and identified two Communist Party members on its staff. It also noted that the magazine's most outspoken CIA critic wasn't a communist but rather former Special Forces sergeant Donald Duncan, an anticommunist Catholic whose first-person account of his Vietnam experience was the February 1966 cover story. The cover photograph of Duncan in uniform and the caption ("The Whole Thing Was a Lie!") became a Ramparts icon.

Meanwhile, CIA officers spent two months identifying the magazine's investors. By linking Ramparts to foreign funding, they could justify their surveillance of a U.S. magazine. Although that effort failed, the Ramparts-CIA saga was just beginning.


Scheer's arrival at Ramparts gave the magazine a significant boost, but it also highlighted a growing schism among the staff. Whereas Keating's original hires were mostly Catholic suburbanites, Hinckle's recruits were secular, more likely to live in San Francisco or Berkeley, and more attuned to the Bay Area's burgeoning youth culture. There were no pitched battles, but the gap between the two groups was uncomfortably wide.

An August 1965 exchange in the Menlo Park office illustrates that split. Managing editor James Colaianni, a self-proclaimed lay Catholic theologian with a large family, told contributing editor Ralph Gleason that he had driven his children to see the Beatles at the Cow Palace, the San Francisco venue that had hosted the 1964 Republican convention. Gleason, a Berkeley resident in his forties, listened attentively. He was the San Francisco Chronicle's jazz critic, one of the nation's first and finest, but he also wrote appreciatively about folk and pop music. When Colaianni added that he had remained in his car during the concert, Gleason exclaimed, "You mean you really stayed outside listening to some tin on the car radio when you could be seeing the Beatles? Man, you're putting me on. Nobody could be that un-hip." (22)

As a young Catholic with few political investments of his own, Hinckle managed to bridge the gap between the two groups. But in February 1966, he moved the office to San Francisco, where the magazine's young secularists began to flourish. Located at 301 Broadway, the new headquarters lay between two neighborhoods with distinctive cultures and histories. Up the hill lay North Beach, home of the Jazz Workshop, one of the city's top jazz clubs, and the hungry i, the legendary nightclub that hosted Lenny Bruce and other cutting-edge comedians. Another North Beach nightclub, The Condor, featured topless dancer Carol Doda.

Down the hill lay the old Barbary Coast, famous for its port activity and raucous nightlife during the Gold Rush days. (Hinckle's grandmother had been a dance-hall girl there.) Ravaged by the 1906 earthquake, the neighborhood had been expanded with landfill and topped with office buildings. By the mid-1960S, it was a favorite address for television stations and advertising agencies, including that of Howard Gossage, Hinckle's mentor. From his office, a magnificently restored firehouse on Pacific Avenue, Gossage connected Hinckle and Ramparts to the city's major players, including San Francisco Chronicle columnist Herb Caen. Gossage also helped Hinckle hatch publicity campaigns, recruit key staffers, and smooth over leadership snags.


Having exhausted his wife's inheritance in late 1964, Keating was losing control of the magazine and could not block the move to San Francisco. He adjusted in part by decorating his new office to his liking. While on assignment for the magazine in Chicago, Keating had interviewed Playboy magazine publisher Hugh Hefner. Appearing in September 1965, "Sex and the Single Playboy: The Gospel According to Hugh Hefner" was laid out to resemble a medieval manuscript, and it ranged over the subjects of St. Paul, medieval asceticism, modern psychology, sexual mores, and Hefner's "philosophy." When Hinckle moved the magazine's headquarters, Keating brought in his original office manager and told her he wanted "a pad--just like Hefner's." Although the rest of the office was painted in a riot of bright colors, Keating chose heavy curtains, a thick black rug, black imitation leather couches, and swivel-balloon chairs. "They're going to cut me up," he reportedly explained. "I've got to do something to retain my identity--this is my last chance." (23)

The relocation coincided with a change in the magazine's tone. A hip, cavalier urbanity replaced the earnestness of the early issues, which had focused on the moral shortcomings of J. D. Salinger and Tennessee Williams. Now Hinckle's irreverence blended with Scheer's chutzpah and Stermer's visual imagination to create striking effects. The Hefner article, for example, included a foldout--not of a naked model, but of a pipe-smoking Hefner. The following month's foldout, which accompanied an article about the Beatles' film A Hard Day's Night, featured a close-up of a black beetle.

The office routine also began to reflect Hinckle's personality and habits. Staffers rarely arrived at the office on time, but they often worked late, partly because Hinckle frequently made major last-minute changes to the forthcoming issue. That practice was especially frustrating for Larry Bensky, whom Hinckle recruited as managing editor in 1968. Benksy often arrived in the morning to find that Hinckle had completely rearranged the forthcoming issue overnight. "Warren couldn't keep his paws off the magazine," Bensky recalled. (24)

The big question in the office was whether Hinckle would appear that day. When he did, the energy level rose dramatically. But even when he was in town, Hinckle usually worked out of Cookie Picetti's, a North Beach bar located near the old Hall of Justice. It was a favorite spot for police officers and other law-enforcement types, and some of Hinckle's left-wing colleagues were uneasy about drinking there. Hinckle typically silenced their protests by challenging them to name a decent left-wing bar. Scheer also objected to Hinckle's taste in watering holes, but not on ideological grounds; his main complaint was that there weren't enough women at Hinckle's favorite places. (25)

The staff learned to function without Hinckle in the office, but occasionally a junior member was dispatched to find him. On his first day as a part-time office assistant, Reese Erlich was told to summon Hinckle to check final galleys. He found Hinckle lunching with Howard Gossage at Enrico's, a nearby bistro. When Erlich delivered his message, Hinckle replied, "F--you, kid." Erlich, who was awaiting trial for his antiwar protests in the East Bay, was unfazed; the Oakland police had been far scarier. "May I quote you on that?" he asked. When Hinckle assented, Erlich cheerfully shot back, "F--you, too." He was promoted shortly thereafter. (26)


Hinckle's style was nothing if not kinetic. Staff writer Adam Hochschild recalled it this way: "He raced through each 18-hour day with dizzying speed. All action at the magazine swirled around him: a pet monkey named Henry Luce would sit on his shoulder while he paced his office, drink in hand, shouting instructions into a speakerphone across the room to someone in New York about a vast promotional mailing; on his couch would be sitting, slightly dazed, a French television crew, or Malcolm X's widow (who arrived one day surrounded by a dozen bodyguards with loaded shotguns), or the private detective to whom Hinckle had given the title Criminology Editor. Then would follow an afternoon-long lunch where Hinckle would consume a dozen Scotches without showing the slightest effect and sketch dummies of the next issue's pages on the restaurant's placemats. Finally he'd be off on the night plane to see new backers in the East." (27)

In New York, the maelstrom continued. In a profile for the New York Times Magazine, James Ridgeway described Hinckle's fantastical performances at the Algonquin Hotel: "In the dining room Hinckle would be recounting his scheme for a publishing empire, expanding Ramparts, starting one, two, or three radio and television stations, starting an authors' agency, setting up teams of reporters who would get the goods on LBJ, NATO, the Pope, etc. Ramparts would publish books, set up book clubs, start a syndicate .... If one dared to ask where the money was really going to come from, Hinckle would fall back into his chair and suck on a grasshopper while Scheer lunged forward. 'What's the matter?' he'd say, 'Got no guts?"' (28)

Hinckle's effect on his colleagues, especially younger ones, was dazzling. "Hinckle was amazing," said Michael Ansara, a Harvard leader of Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) and Ramparts researcher. "As an undergraduate, I'd visit him at the Algonquin. He'd start talking in the shower, continue the conversation while putting on his tuxedo, and then we'd be off for oysters with Abby Rockefeller." The company Hinckle kept was part of the glamour. "I once had dinner with him and Oriana Fallaci," Ansara said. "I was about eighteen years old. I'd never seen a woman like her, much less had dinner with her. He was the most cosmopolitan, flamboyant, creative guy I'd ever seen." (29) By most accounts, Hinckle was larger than life. So were some of his belongings; during one visit to his apartment, Maurice Zeitlin maneuvered around a stuffed pink elephant that was ten feet wide. (30)


As these portraits make clear, Hinckle's prodigious drinking was well-known and frequently on display. On one occasion, Hinckle asked Reese Erlich and his girlfriend, a Ramparts secretary, to drive him to the airport. Along the way, he ordered Erlich to pull over and invited his companions to join him for a drink. Both were underage, but Erlich accompanied Hinckle into the bar. Without prompting, the bartender set up fifteen screwdrivers for Hinckle, who polished them off and missed his flight. (31) "Going up there to drink with him was like going to Vietnam," Ramparts accountant Joe Ippolito recalled. (32)

None of Hinckle's escapades made for smooth sailing, but most of the magazine's major achievements took place during his tenure. Part of that success is attributable to his enormous network and media savvy. "Hinckle was a train wreck," Erlich recalled, "but a brilliant publicist." Some of Ramparts' most successful publicity efforts, including full-page ads in the New York Times, were Gossage's ideas, but Hinckle also had a great feeling for the sport. When Erlich had to report for the draft, he pitched a story idea to Hinckle about the valuable job skills he would acquire through military service--for example, shooting people and blowing them up. Hinckle issued a press release, Herb Caen picked up the story, and the Los Angeles Times interviewed Erlich while he was standing in line at the draft board office. (33)

A fourth-generation San Franciscan, Hinckle was completely at home in the city, and though Caen routinely referred to Hinckle's star editor as "Berkeley Bob Scheer," Scheer also felt that San Francisco as a whole was Ramparts territory. "The Village is like a separate city in New York," Scheer said later, comparing the impact of New York's Village Voice to that of Ramparts. "But in San Francisco, even the stockbrokers were into it." When the magazine's interns hitchhiked around the Bay Area, they found that motorists were often familiar with the magazine. If two staffers mentioned Ramparts on the bus, the driver might turn around and compliment an article from a recent issue. "We loved the town and everything that was happening there," Scheer recalled. "It seemed like the center of the world. We weren't the farm club for anyone. At that time, for those of us who cared about challenging the culture, it was exhilarating." (34)


That exhilaration, however, was accompanied by a growing sense of anxiety in the office. As Ramparts dug into the less savory aspects of America's most powerful institutions, the staff suspected that the government was watching them. One of their colleagues, William Turner, confirmed their suspicion. Raised Catholic in Buffalo, Turner had joined the FBI, received training in wiretapping and burglary, and listened in on telephone conversations in the Bay Area. But he had run afoul of Hoover after objecting to the FBI director's characterization of Martin Luther King Jr. as the most notorious liar in the country.

Turner left the FBI after ten years of service, settled in Marin County, and wrote a piece about the bureau's failure to obtain convictions on civil rights violations in the South. After stumbling upon an issue of Ramparts at his tennis club, he called Keating, who encouraged him to submit the article. It was accepted immediately, and Turner became a staff writer. After his Ramparts articles appeared, Hoover wrote about him in an internal memo, "It's a shame we can't nail this jackal." (35)

Turner assured his Ramparts colleagues that the government was watching them. "Wiretaps are your tax dollars at work," he told Dugald Stermer. "If your phone isn't bugged, we're not doing our job." (36) At one Ramparts cocktail party, Turner heard a voice that he couldn't quite place. He studied the speaker's face, which was totally unfamiliar. Then he solved the puzzle. The voice belonged to labor lawyer Robert Treuhaft, husband of former communist, bestselling author, and Oakland resident Jessica Mitford. As a young FBI agent in the 1950s, Turner had listened to hours of Treuhaft's telephone conversations. (37)

There were other indications that the magazine's adversaries were trying to undermine its efforts. The IRS audited Stermer in two consecutive years, and when Turner arrived at the office the morning after Easter in 1967, he found shattered windows, fire extinguisher goo covering the furniture, and an IBM Selectric typewriter lying askew in the toilet. Turner suspected that the CIA had ransacked the office but saw no signs of forced entry. Years later, Hinckle telephoned Turner from Cookie Picetti's; a former law enforcement officer and GOP official had just confessed to burglarizing the Ramparts office in 1967. Although Hinckle asked Turner to question the man about his burglary story, Hinckle confessed to Turner that the law enforcement officer "couldn't have done it, because Gene Marine and I did it." Hinckle and Marine, a staff writer, had trashed the office themselves following a drinking session at Tosca, a North Beach bar. However, the officer claimed that his caper had occurred two nights earlier than Hinckle's and Marine's ransacking, and he convinced Hinckle by producing the editor's bar receipts from Cookie Picetti's along with some Ramparts' files. He also told Turner that right-wing organizations had sponsored the burglary and that the findings were shared with CIA agents. (38)

The staff coped with its surveillance anxiety in various ways. Some used pay telephones to elude wiretaps, and heavy drinking was an all-purpose form of self-medication--not only for Hinckle, but also for Scheer and Stermer. Other drugs were readily available but not tolerated in the office. While serving as assistant managing editor, Sol Stern ejected staff writer Jann Wenner from the building for smoking pot. Stern didn't disapprove of marijuana, and his peers at the Village Voice, for example, regularly lit up at the office. But Stern figured correctly that the government was watching them, and a drug arrest was the last thing Ramparts needed. (39)

As whistle-blowing exposes became the magazine's trademark, the line between healthy skepticism and garden-variety paranoia narrowed. Both Keating and Hinckle had a soft spot for conspiracy theories, but even Hinckle recognized that these tales frequently shaded into delusion or baseless distrust of the government. He also knew that such delusions made psychic demands on the muckraker and were unwelcome in polite society: "Paranoia is a little like dog shit. Once you step in it, you can never be sure it is not still with you.... You pretend--or really believe--it matters not which, since the result is the same-that the dog doo isn't there, you press on, leaving tracks across people's rugs and hardwood floors, generally creating a stink, and giving the impression of being some sort of nut." (40) Even Hinckle's 1974 memoir, a valuable account of the magazine's early history, tilts strongly toward tales of intrigue whose upshots are sometimes negligible. Yet Ramparts' investigative work during this time consistently combined passion, brass, and factual accuracy.


As Ramparts developed, it became a launching pad for other ventures. In 1966, three of its principals--Keating, Sheinbaum, and Scheer--ran for Congress as peace candidates. Keating and Sheinbaum lost in the San Mateo and Santa Barbara Democratic primaries, respectively, but both surprised experts by receiving more than 40 percent of the vote. Keating lost again the following year when the incumbent's death led to a special election, and Sheinbaum's second effort in 1968 likewise was unsuccessful.

Scheer's 1966 campaign was the most remarkable of them all. In that primary race, Scheer challenged Democratic incumbent Jeffery Cohelan in California's District 7, which includes Oakland and Berkeley. Cohelan, a mainstream liberal, was a former milkman and local union leader who had received a master's degree in economics at UC Berkeley and had won a Fulbright scholarship to study at Oxford and Leeds. He supported Johnson's Great Society legislation, decried racism in southern cities, and opposed the exploitation of farm workers closer to home. But he didn't speak out strongly against the Vietnam War, the House Committee on Un-American Activities, or the poverty and racism in his own district.

Scheer's candidacy reflected rising impatience with the party line. At twenty-nine, Scheer was unknown to most voters in the district, but in October 1965, he was invited to attend a Faculty Peace Committee meeting on the Berkeley campus. He came on strong, forcefully pushing an antiwar line and advocating legalized marijuana and abortion. Some committee members recoiled, but Scheer emerged as the party's peace candidate, and he tempered his image as the campaign progressed. He favored dark Brooks Brothers suits to go along with his black-framed glasses and trim goatee. From the outset, he considered his campaign an elaborate attempt to persuade Cohelan to oppose the war, and he told crowds he would drop out of the race if Cohelan did so. Years later, he summed up his position by quoting the SDS slogan, "Part of the Way with LBJ." (41)

Not all of Scheer's friends approved of his congressional bid. Berkeley activist Frank Bardacke distrusted electoral politics as a vehicle for radical change, and though he admired Scheer, he wondered about his magazine. "Ramparts seemed a little slick to me," recalled Bardacke, who wrote for the underground San Francisco Express-Times and was reading Liberation and the New Left Review. (42) Others regarded any affiliation with the Democratic Party as a sell-out. But Scheer had the support of the California Democratic Council (CDC), many UC Berkeley professors, and Robert Treuhaft, who ran unsuccessfully for Alameda County district attorney that year. (43)

Carl Bloice, a black reporter for People's World, the San Francisco-based Communist Party newspaper, served as Scheer's campaign coordinator. Describing his candidate's effect on local voters, Bloice said Scheer was "probably the first person that appeared in front of them that forced them to think. God knows how many people had appeared before to flatter them." (44) Scheer's speeches, all extemporaneous, were clear and pointed. In one, he claimed that everyone in Vietnam instantly recognized the U.S. official line as gibberish. Likewise, the language of Johnson's war on poverty was nonsense to those whom the programs were intended to help. If it was unreasonable to call out those discrepancies, Scheer said, "then this is going to be a very unreasonable campaign." (45)

For Bloice, the campaign also was transformational. He later noted that it led to "spiritual and psychological salvation--no, that may not be the right word--say, stability--for the people of my generation. The temptation to go mad while everybody else was going mad, or opt out for some kind of escape--it's there, it's all very tempting. A lot of people who were ready to give up got heart from the Scheer campaign." (46) That effect was similar to the one Ramparts had on many readers. Free Speech Movement activist Jeff Lustig recalled that reading the magazine during that time was "reassurance that we weren't going nuts." (47)


Scheer's campaign assembled a coalition of antiwar liberals, blacks, and radicals. Breaking with Democratic tradition, he accepted support from communists and International Socialists, arguing that anticommunism among American liberals had produced the Vietnam War in the first place. His campaign also gathered substantial support from the "hill people"--more affluent residents of the leafy East Bay hills separating the working-class flatlands of Berkeley and Oakland from the plusher, whiter, and more conservative suburbs to the east. Scheer received endorsements from local black leaders, the International Longshore and Warehouse Union (but no other labor groups), civil rights leader Julian Bond, comedian and activist Dick Gregory, Oregon senator Wayne Morse, and television star Robert Vaughn. He also tapped the idealism of many young voters, including Alice Waters, who worked on Scheer's campaign and later founded Chez Panisse, the renowned Berkeley restaurant.

Cohelan ran endorsements from prominent UC Berkeley faculty as well as state and national leaders, including President Johnson, Vice President Hubert Humphrey, U.S. senators William Fulbright and Mike Mansfield, Governor Pat Brown, the AFL-CIO's George Meany, and House Speaker John McCormack. Another supporter was Alameda County judge and Berkeley school board member Spurgeon "Sparky" Avakian, whose son Bob studied English at UC Berkeley and was a Ramparts researcher. (48)

The race made good copy. Three national magazines covered it, as did the New York Times and the Washington Post. Scheer called Cohelan an example of "middle of the road extremism," and Cohelan's campaign manager, John Tolan, called the radical left "a bunch of unmade beds." (49) In their Washington Post column, Rowland Evans and Robert Novak called Scheer a "bearded editor of the leftist Ramparts magazine and an articulate apologist for the Communist Vietcong." Casting Scheer as part of a sinister "leftist wrecking crew," Evans and Novak implied that this crew included Representative Phil Burton, the liberal San Francisco Democrat, but failed to note that Cohelan was Burton's brother-in-law. (50)

As the race tightened, the National Observer quoted an exasperated Cohelan: "This is no fun. I've lost my sense of humor. I'm disturbed about this campaign. No, not disturbed. I'm plain outraged. I've been a good Congressman for eight years. I've reached a point in the House where I have the respect of my peers. I really have some influence. And now, comes an arrogant kid saying I don't deserve to go back. It's outrageous!" (51)

Cohelan's campaign manager was more dismissive: "The typical primary voter is probably a civil-service job-holder or someone who has a stake in the party. He's going to spend thirty to forty seconds looking over the sample ballot and maybe a minute in the booth.... And when he sees Scheer's name, he's going to ask, 'Who's he?'" About Scheer's coalition, Tolan added, "What they're really trying to do is make Cal [UC Berkeley] the capital of the new left. But can you really take these people seriously? Aren't they really staging an exercise like eating goldfish?" He scoffed at the notion that Cohelan was out of touch with Oakland's black voters. Scheer's supporters, he said, were "trying to tell Jeff about what's going on in West Oakland. Who the hell do they think they are? Jeff drove a milk truck in West Oakland before these kids were even born." (52)

The vote was uncomfortably close for Cohelan. White House press secretary Bill Moyers, who had already received secret intelligence on Scheer from the CIA, called the Alameda County clerk three times on election night to check the results. In the end, Scheer drew 45 percent of the vote. Reflecting on the effort shortly after the primary, Scheer said, "I think the main achievement of the campaign was that it was bold. Left liberal politics during the Cold War was characterized by fear, and our stance was arrogant." (53) Although unsuccessful, Scheer's campaign showed that Cohelan was vulnerable. Four years later, Ron Dellums unseated Cohelan and become one of the most outspoken congressional critics of American militarism.


Scheer's congressional bid was remarkable, but it didn't reflect the general direction of California politics. In fact, the state was poised for a significant conservative backlash after two terms of Governor Pat Brown's leadership.

That movement's leader was Ronald Reagan, whom Ramparts began tracking in November 1965 when Jessica Mitford reviewed his autobiography, Where's the Rest of Me? Mitford had joined the Ramparts editorial board after Howard Gossage offered her free advertising space in the magazine. She was trying to sell an island off the Scottish coast that she had inherited from her father, and her effort to donate it to the Communist Party in Great Britain had failed. (54)

A Truman supporter in 1948, Reagan spent most of the 1950s as a spokesman for General Electric after his film career began to flag. He supported Nixon in 1960 and offered to register as a Republican, but GOP leaders decided he was more useful as a Democrat. Two years later, he switched parties, and his speech at the 1964 GOP convention in San Francisco's Cow Palace made him a rising political star.

Mitford's article in Ramparts, which was accompanied by cutout costumes for each of Reagan's public roles, appeared before Reagan announced his intention to run for governor. He went on to win the Republican nomination in 1966 and attack Brown for his permissiveness. Reagan's key campaign promises were to "clean up the mess in Berkeley," where the Free Speech Movement and antiwar protests had made national headlines, and to "send the welfare bums back to work." In an unscripted aside, Reagan also derided labor leader Cesar Chavez, who wrote about his organizing experiences in the June 1966 issue of Ramparts. When Chavez led a 25-day, 300-mile march to Sacramento that spring, Reagan called it an "Faster egg roll." Reagan's aides cringed, but Brown failed to capitalize on the gaffe. Instead of meeting with Chavez when his contingent arrived at the state capitol, Brown spent Faster weekend at Frank Sinatra's house in Palm Springs. (55)

Reagan also questioned California's recently minted fair housing act. The bill was sponsored by W. Byron Rumford, a black assemblyman from the East Bay, where residential segregation was a longstanding fact of life. The legislature passed the Rumford Act in 1963, but a statewide ballot initiative to disable it passed by a two-to-one margin the following year. Although the matter eventually was settled in court, the issue reverberated throughout the 1966 gubernatorial contest. Brown referred the question to a nonpartisan commission; Reagan decried racism but claimed "the right of an individual to the ownership and disposition of property is inseparable from the right of freedom itself." Delivered to an audience of real estate brokers, Reagan's declaration prompted a standing ovation. (56)

From his perch at The Nation, editor and longtime California observer Carey McWilliams parsed Reagan's message. "There will be more of this kind of demagogy as the campaign comes to a climax," he predicted, "with Reagan using code words and phrases to let the electorate know his right-wing stand on racial issues without his having to voice outright racist sentiments." McWilliams also prepared his readers for a Reagan victory. "Unless Governor Brown can find some potent issues to outweigh this obsessive fear of open housing, he is in grave danger." (57)


Behind Reagan's declaration lay an event that made fair housing an even more volatile issue. In the summer of 1965, the predominantly black Los Angeles neighborhood of Watts had erupted in six days of rioting, looting, and arson after a routine traffic stop spun out of control. The mayhem left thirty-four residents dead, more than a thousand injured, and the neighborhood's business district in flames. White residents became even more anxious than usual about residential integration, while some African Americans regarded the confrontation with Los Angeles police as both necessary and worthy. A horrified Martin Luther King Jr. visited Watts after the rioting and was heckled by black militants. Vacationing in Greece, Governor Brown was unable to calm the city. (58)

Ramparts didn't overlook the conservative backlash, but it didn't appreciate its full import, either. Scheer joined the Reagan campaign to interview the challenger, but he fell asleep in one of the campaign's hotel rooms and awoke to find Reagan, who hadn't noticed him, changing his trousers. (59)

After mainstream Democrats vanquished the Ramparts candidates in the primaries, the magazine's staff watched the Reagan-Brown match with bemused resignation. The October 1966 cover featured a Disneyland photograph of a life-sized Mickey Mouse with the caption, "Golly gee, California is a strange state!" (The interjection was a Brown trademark.) Instead of pressing Reagan, the cover story wondered whether Pat Brown would "go with the real liberalism." "If he doesn't," the article continued, "it won't make much difference to California if Brown does or does not squeak through. The right will win in any case, because it has already won.... And it is just as painfully clear that the triumph of the right is inevitable because liberalism--not just unfortunate, well meaning Pat Brown--has failed California." The story also included movie mogul Jack Warner's take on the election. Returning from a long European vacation, the studio head was asked what he thought about Reagan for governor. "No," Warner replied, "Jimmy Stewart for governor. Ronald Reagan for best friend." (60)

A front-page story in Hinckle's spinoff newspaper, The Sunday Ramparts, was even less sympathetic to Brown. It accused Brown's campaign of "Birchbaiting" Reagan and concluded that Brown's defeat, "while not particularly desirable, would not necessarily destroy our way of life." (61) When staff writer Bill Turner asked Hinckle and Scheer about the anti-Brown spin, Hinckle explained their position: "Brown's so wishy-washy he has to go. Reagan will make a fool of himself, and in four years we'll be able to elect a real Democrat." (62) By associating the campaign with Disneyland, conflating the two candidates' politics, and resigning itself to a conservative triumph, Ramparts pounded one more nail into the coffin of American liberalism. Years later, Scheer admitted that the New Left's key mistake was exaggerating the strength of the liberal center. (63)

Reagan easily defeated Brown the next month. Although he governed more moderately than his campaign rhetoric suggested, he kept his promise to crack down on UC Berkeley and moved quickly to dismiss Clark Kerr as president of the University of California. Caught in a whipsaw between radical students and a conservative governor, Kerr also had powerful enemies in Washington. Well before Reagan's victory, UC regent Edwin Pauley contacted CIA director and UC alumnus John McCone about removing Kerr from his leadership post. McCone referred him to J. Edgar Hoover, who supplied Pauley with confidential FBI information about Kerr, some of which the bureau knew to be false. President Johnson, who had planned to offer Kerr a cabinet position, scratched the nomination after receiving Kerr's background check. With Reagan's support, the regents dismissed Kerr in January 1967. (64) Later, Kerr would say he left the presidency just as he had entered it--"fired with enthusiasm." (65)

Reagan also clashed publicly with students, cut the university's budget, and instituted "educational fees" for the first time in UC history. (The euphemism evaded the university charter's ban on tuition.) Later, he made good on his pledge to tighten welfare requirements. His political career--and California's conservative backlash-was under way.

Like Reagan, Ramparts was on the ascent, but it would flame out years before Reagan reached the White House. Circulation rose after Eldridge Cleaver, fresh out of state prison with Keating's help, joined the staff in December 1966. A few months later, the board of directors sacked Keating following a showdown over control of the magazine. Never on solid financial ground after Keating's funds evaporated, Ramparts filed for bankruptcy in early 1969. Hinckle soon cofounded the short-lived Scanlan's magazine, which launched Gonzo journalism by publishing Hunter S. Thompson's first article with Ralph Steadman's illustrations. Ramparts reorganized and resumed publishing in April 1969, but a coup engineered by David Horowitz and Peter Collier led to Scheer's ouster and Stermer's resignation that year. Under Horowitz and Collier, Ramparts cut costs dramatically and took a more revolutionary editorial line, but circulation declined steadily after 1969, and the magazine folded for good six years later.


Ramparts' impact outlived its lifespan. By demonstrating that a "radical slick" had broad appeal, the magazine cleared the way for new publications, most notably Rolling Stone and Mother Jones, which were founded by Ramparts alumni and proved more durable. During his time at The Sunday Ramparts, Rolling Stone publisher Jann Wenner picked up layout ideas from Stermer, learned the importance of wit and showmanship from Hinckle, and discovered the work of Hunter S. Thompson. Having launched Rolling Stone with Ramparts contributing editor Ralph Gleason, Wenner later described the relationship between the two magazines as one of "overlapping trajectories." (66) The founding editors of Mother Jones--Adam Hochschild, Richard Parker, and Paul Jacobs--left Ramparts shortly before its final demise. They inherited the Ramparts mailing list, asked Stermer to design some early covers, and carried on its muckraking. (67)

Much like Allen Ginsberg's effect on American poetry, Ramparts loosened the breath of American political journalism. It vigorously promoted civil rights, challenged the U.S. line in Vietnam, exposed CIA mischief, and played a critical role in the black power movement. That role expanded in 1967 after Eldridge Cleaver witnessed a showdown between Huey P. Newton and the San Francisco police outside the Ramparts office. Cleaver quickly joined the Black Panther Party and became its most important recruit. According to historian Peniel E. Joseph, "In less than two years, the Black Panthers would reflect Cleaver's vision as much as, if not more than, Newton's." (68) By hiring Cleaver, covering the Black Panther Party's activities, and sponsoring work by its leaders, Ramparts helped establish the Black Panthers as internationally recognized revolutionaries. (69)

Ramparts also opened a new chapter in the history of the CIA. According to author Tim Weiner, the initial CIA rundown on Ramparts "grew into a much larger effort: prying into the unruly world of the underground press." That larger effort, code-named Operation MHCHAOS, later was exposed by New York Times reporter and Ramparts contributor Seymour Hersh. Hersh's story triggered an unprecedented examination of the nation's intelligence services and strained the CIA's morale. "The exposure of MHCHAOS during and after Watergate," Weiner concludes, "remains a low point in the agency's history." (70) Congress created intelligence oversight committees for the first time, and the Senate version was chaired by Frank Church, Keating's undergraduate friend from Stanford. Church's committee was especially effective at bringing a generation of CIA and FBI malfeasance to the surface.

Certainly the magazine's short life and current obscurity should figure in any evaluation of its achievement. Ramparts wasn't The Nation, Harper's, or the Atlantic, whose histories stretch back to the days of Mark Twain and Henry James. At its flashpoint, Ramparts was something else altogether: the journalistic equivalent of a rock band. It blew minds, launched solo careers, and spawned imitators. It was born, lived, bred, and died. Because it was mortal, not monumental, genealogy may be more important than longevity in understanding its significance. If so, Ramparts should be judged not only by what it published, but also by the subsequent work it made possible. By this measure, it accomplished a great deal, and the mid-1960s proved to be the most productive period of its short, unruly life.

Special thanks to Janet Fireman for suggesting this adaptation; to Shelly Kale for editorial support; to Melissa Edeburn for photographic research; and to Michael Sexton for his work on the images.

Caption sources: Dennis McClellan, "Edward Keating, 77; Founder of Ramparts," Los Angeles Times, April 12, 2003, B-19; James Marcus, "He Likes Ike? Robert Scheer Looks Left, Right, and Center," Columbia Journalism Review (July/August 2008), www.; Robert Scheer and Warren Hinckle, "The Vietnam Lobby," Ramparts (July 1965): 17; "With Cap & Cloak in Saigon," Time, April 22, 1996;; Steven Heller and Karen Pomeroy, Design Literacy: Understanding Graphic Design (New York: Allworth Press, 1997), 108; "Ramparts Magazine,"


(1) "A Bomb in Every Issue," Time, Jan. 6, 1967, 35.

(2) Large parts of the magazine's story have

been told in two contrastive memoirs. Warren Hinckle's If You Have a Lemon, Make Lemonade: An Essential Memoir of a Lunatic Decade (New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1974) offers a picaresque version of the magazine's early period, but Hinckle dropped the narrative in 1969, the year he left Ramparts, and the book's 1974 publication date precluded a discussion of the magazine's long-term influence. Former editor David Horowitz's memoir, Radical Son: A Generational Odyssey (New York: Free Press, 1997), details the magazine's prodigious spending, high-handed editorial practices, and ideological zeal. It also recounts the murder (purportedly by Black Panthers) of former Ramparts bookkeeper Betty Van Patter and Horowitz's subsequent political transformation, which led him to join the Reagan revolution. But Horowitz joined Ramparts in January 1968, almost halfway through its short life and after it had made most of its important journalistic contributions. Even when read together, the two memoirs do not offer a complete portrait of the magazine and its legacy.

(3) Peter Richardson, A Bomb in Every Issue: How the Short, Unruly Life of Ramparts Magazine Changed America (New York: The New Press, forthcoming).

(4) "Interview with Frank Church," Ramparts 3, no. 5 (Jan.-Feb. 1965): 17-22.

(5) See James T. Fisher, Dr. America: The Lives of Thomas A. Dooley (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1997).

(6) Thomas A. Dooley, Deliver Us from Evil (New York: Farrar, Straus and Cudahy, 1956), 210.

(7) Seth Jacobs, America's Miracle Man in Vietnam: Ngo Dihn Diem, Religion, Race, and U.S. Intervention in Southeast Asia (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2004), 154. See also Hugh Wilford, The Mighty Wurlitzer: How the CIA Played America (Boston, MA: Harvard University Press, 2008).

(8) Robert Scheer, "Hang Down Your Head Tom Dooley," Ramparts 3, no. 5 (Jan.-Feb. 1965): 23-28.

(9) Robert Scheer, Thinking Tuna Fish, Talking Death (New York: The Noonday Press/Farrat, Straus and Giroux, 1988), xiv-xvi.

(10) Robert Scheer, interviews by the author, Los Angeles, CA, Apr. 26, 2008, and Berkeley, CA, June 22, 2008.

(11) Ibid.

(12) Ibid.

(13) Maurice Zeitlin, interview by the author, Santa Monica, CA, Apr. 24, 2008.

(14) Maurice Zeitlin and Robert Scheer, Cuba: Tragedy in our Hemisphere (New York: Grove Press, 1963), 9.

(15) Scheer interview, June 22, 2008. Scheer's piece for The Realist, "Academic Sin," appeared in Mar. 1964, no. 48, 13-15.

(16) Robert Scheer, How the United States Got Involved in Vietnam (Santa Barbara, CA: Center for the Study of Democratic Institutions, 1965), 78.

(17) Hinckle, If You Have a Lemon, 103.

(18) Scheer interview, June 22, 2008.

(19) Robert Scheer, "A View from the Prince," Ramparts 4, no. 3 (July 1965): 32-33.

(20) Angus Mackenzie, Secrets: The CIA's War at Home (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997), 15-19. See also "Citizen Staff' (2004), a documentary by Patty Sharafwith Robert Scheer.

(21) "MSU: The University on the Make," Ramparts 4, no. 12 (Apr. 1966): 11--22, by Warren Hinckle in conjunction with Sol Stern and Robert Scheer; introduction by Stanley Sheinbaum.

(22) Hinckle, If You Have a Lemon, 101.

(23) Ibid., 185.

(24) Larry Bensky, interview by the author, Berkeley, CA, Apr. 23, 2007. Bensky soon bowed out, telling Hinckle that he "wasn't put on the planet to do this." He landed at KPFA, the Berkeley public radio station, and eventually served as station manager, national affairs correspondent for Pacifica Radio, and host of the Sunday morning public affairs program.

(25) Scheer interview, June 22, 2008.

(26) Reese Erlich, interview by the author, Berkeley, CA, Aug. 15, 2007.

(27) Adam Hochschild, "The Rise, Stumble and Fall of Ramparts Magazine," feed/back (Summer 1975): 24-29.

(28) James Ridgeway, "The Ramparts Story:... Um, Very Interesting," The New York Times Magazine (Apr. 20, 1969): 34-44.

(29) Michael Ansara, telephone discussion with the author, September 12, 2008.

(30) Zeitlin interview, Apr. 24, 2008.

(31) Erlich interview, Aug. 15, 2007.

(32) Joe Ippolito, interview by the author, San Jose, CA, Sept. 25, 2008.

(33) Erlich interview, Aug. 15, 2007.

(34) Scheer interview, June 22, 2008.

(35) William W. Turner, Rearview Mirror: Looking Back at the FBI, the CIA and Other Tails (Roseville, CA: Penmarin Books, 2001), xi.

(36) Dugald Stermer, interview by the author, San Francisco, CA, June 12, 2007.

(37) William Turner, telephone discussion with the author, Mar. 31, 2008.

(38) Turner, Rearview Mirror, 78-90.

(39) Sol Stern, telephone discussion with the author, Mar. 28, 2008.

(40) Hinckle, If You Have a Lemon, 197.

(41) Scheer interview, June 22, 2008.

(42) Frank Bardacke, telephone discussion with the author, Sept. 17, 2008.

(43) Five years later, Treuhaft's Oakland firm hired Hillary Clinton as a summer intern; see Josh Gerstein, "Hillary Clinton's Radical Summer," The New York Sun, Nov. 26, 2007.

(44) Lang, The Scheer Campaign (New York: Benjamin, 1967), 49.

(45) Ibid., 42.

(46) Ibid., 50.

(47) Jeff Lustig, interview with author, Berkeley, CA, Jan. 3, 2008.

(48) Bob Avakian later became chairman of the Revolutionary Communist Party, USA, which he has led since its inception in 1975.

(49) James M. Perry, "'Now Comes an Arrogant Kid ... It's Outrageous': An Old Liberal Democrat Battles a Leader of 'New Left' for a House Seat," National Observer (May 30, 1966), reproduced in Lang, The Scheer Campaign, 175-79.

(50) Rowland Evans and Robert Novak, "Leftist Wrecking Crew," The Washington Post, Feb. 7, 1966, reproduced in Lang, The Scheer Campaign, 106.

(51) Perry, "'Now Comes an Arrogant Kid ...," 178.

(52) Ibid.

(53) Lang, The Scheer Campaign, 117.

(54) Hinckle, If You Have a Lemon, 104.

(55) Lou Cannon, Governor Reagan: His Rise to Power (New York: PublicAffairs, 2003), 159.

(56) Carey McWilliams, "How to Succeed with the Backlash," The Nation (Oct. 31, 1966): 438-42.

(57) Ibid., 441.

(58) Cannon, Governor Reagan: His Rise to Power, 6-7.

(59) Scheer interview, June 12, 2008.

(60) "Golly gee, California is a strange state," Ramparts 5, no. 4 (Oct. 1966): 12-33.

(61) The Sunday Ramparts, Oct. a, 1966.

(62) Turner, Rearview Mirror, 60.

(63) Scheer interview, June 22, 2008.

(64) Seth Rosenfeld, "The Campus Files," San Francisco Chronicle, Special Report, June 9, 2002, http://www.sfgate/com/news/special/ pages/2002/campusfiles/.

(65) Clark Kerr, The Gold and the Blue: A Per sonal Memoir of the University of California (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003), 309.

(66) Jann Wenner, telephone discussion with the author, Sept. 19, 2008.

(67) Adam Hochschild, interview with the author, San Francisco, CA, June 19, 2007; Richard Parker, telephone discussion with the author, July 29, 2007.

(68) Peniel E. Joseph, Waiting "Til the Midnight Hour: A Narrative History of Black Power in America (New York: Henry Holt and Company, 2006), 177-78.

(69) Jane Rhodes, Framing the Black Panthers: The Spectacular Rise of a Black Power Icon (New York: The New Press, 2007), 234-35.

(70) Tim Weiner, Legacy of Ashes: The History of the CIA (New York: Doubleday, 1997), 270.

PETER RICHARDSON is editorial director at PoliPointPress, a lecturer at San Francisco State University, and interim chair of the California Studies Association. His previous works include American Prophet: The Life and Work of Carey McWilliams (University of Michigan Press, 2005) and numerous publications on language, literature, and California public policy. He was Associate Professor of English at the University of North Texas, a Fulbright Senior Scholar in Iceland, and editor at the Public Policy Institute of California and at Harper & Row, Publishers. He received a PhD in English from the University of California, Berkeley, and a BA in economics from tire University of California, Santa Barbara. A frequent book reviewer for the Los Angeles Times, he also writes about California culture at
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Date:Jun 22, 2009
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