💾 Archived View for gemini.spam.works › mirrors › textfiles › magazines › ATI › abbie.txt captured on 2022-06-12 at 10:11:12.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
ABBIE HOFFMAN
WAS NOT FAMOUS!
--by Prime Anarchist
"Marc-o, THIS is Abbie, um... you can REACH the
people you want at their INITIALS. The name of
their organization is in WASHington DC. Umm...
Sara Beckah is the executive DIRECTOR and a friend
o' mine. Also in Texasss in the homeTOWN where STOCKwell
lives. Now, they're GONNNna be a little PHREEQ-Y tomorrow..."
[click]
[dialtone]
You're sitting in a bar with your idol, and a bunch of your college
buddies. Your idol is paying more attention to the Chicago Bears game on big
screen than your somewhat forced political discussions. He just got done
lecturing to hundreds of you for two hours - the last thing he wants to talk
about is politics. But now and then, you can get an opinion out of him for
your school newspaper.
Talk turns toward his Chicago Eight days, "Steal This Book", "Urine
Test", stuff like that, and a pissed-off Abbie Hoffman says, "That's it.
"I'm out of here. I know when I'm too welcome."
Your idol has left you like a miserable little child who wasn't
allowed two more cookies, but you're quick to understand and respect that.
You'd give your right arm to have half the celebration Abbie's got, but
you'd gladly donate your left nut to be able to "dis" that fame with half
as much grace as he does. Maybe you hope you'll get busted for cocaine so
you too can go underground. Maybe you hope you can organize a non-event
that the press will wish they had known about. Maybe you'd like to write
the next ultimate manifesto that upsets Walden Books.
Abbie's death should mean nothing to you - however, his life should have
had great impact. The things he has said should be ignored - we need to heed
what he's done instead. Somewhere around the fab-50's when nothing much
mattered, Abbie Hoffman got his first taste of fame when he became a yo-yo
champ. Even the inventors wished they could have a few moments with the
guy to see some of his made-up tricks in slow motion. I don't think he ever
gave out any of his own secrets. Not then; still 30 years later he remained
reluctant to "tell all." But ask the guy a question or two, and you sure
got a wealth of info.
That first taste of fame must have stunk in his mouth something rotten,
'cause it wasn't long before he spit it out and didn't want a thing to do
with it. No one knows when he became an
A) agitator,
B) activist
C) radical
or D) make up your own word.
He claims it started before he was born.
But just when an event looked like it would make him a little too famous,
it was time to go cook up another event. The people watching with awe when
he mentioned "Iran Contra" or the anarchy caused when Louis Guiffrida got
thirty calls-a-minute telling him he was a racist son of a bitch didn't
seem to bother Abbie. In fact, I think it pleased him. But the minute
we began chatting about "there goes that yoyo again" or "let's interview
the yipster," it was time to go hide. Abbie Hoffman didn't hate the
pressmen; he loathed them. ("Loathe" was for lack of a better word,
by the way. I don't think there's a word bitter enough.)
Plain and simple, Abbie did not like fame.
During the 60's, when everything seemed to matter, Abbie could've
easily been a powerful attorney, great sportscaster, inspiring history
professor, or the best damned bum anyone ever met. Guess which one
this genius-level character picked?
Abbie joined the drug culture, as everyone knows. We are
fortunate he had a high tolerance for drugs, because he was obssesive
about everything he got into. While we were all tuning out and turning
on, he was participating too. But he was also stirring up. Hey,
someone had to do it. No one woulda known, that a little argument with
a mayor could make headlines thoughout the nation. Good thing
Abbie knew a lot of great attorneys, because the Chicago Eight
was about to be plucked right out of the streets just as randomly
as the hispanics that'll get sent to concentration camps if
Operation Night Camp is needed.
In Abbie's obituaries after his death, there'd been a lot of
mention of a Chicago Seven. Who was this group? I never heard of them.
I only know of a Chicago 8! I think it is a gross misinformation blitz
to leave out Bobbie Seale who made it thru more than half the trial as
a teammate. I also think it sets us up as "racism continuers" to leave
out the only man of color burned in that trial.
Abbie handled his fame well; stomached it as best he could, and
drove on - stirring up every event he could organize. The 60's were
a busy time for him, but the 70's just might go down as the time when
he reached his underground peak. Everyone knows about the Yipsters,
but only fans, and hard working undergrounders remember the Youth
International Party Line. YIPL was an underground newspaper that
never saw a "regular" publishing schedule, but always came as a
refreshing piece of mail. You sent a dollar to some suite in NYC,
and kept getting these pamphlets on how to make free fone calls,
how to keep using the same stamp for hundreds of letters among
friends, and generally how to beat the system at its own game.
Few knew that Abbie was one of the strongest ghost publishers
of YIPL magazine, but a lot of freaks started subscribing to
his new form of interactive press. People would write in and
fone in tricks on how to use #14 washers as dimes, how to turn
your utility meter upside-down so it'd flow backwards for a week,
how to set up your apartment with hotel sofas and loveseats. A
phreak/hacker/freaker/enthusiast (you pick the name) who sent
something in could count on YIPL to help him out if he ran aground.
Abbie was quick to start campaigns to get lots of people out of jail.
Like I said, he coulda been a potent lawyer if he wanted to play that
way. YIPL became TAP (short for Technincal Assistance Party) and got
a lot more electronically oriented, but still kept some of its political
bent. But it just wasn't quite as activist. Chesire Catalyst and the
gang tried and tried to get the campaigns going to help bail Abbie out
when he got yanked for his DeLoreanesque cocaine set up.
No dice. Abbie had to go so far underground, even the underground
couldn't always get a hold of him. TAP went on about its merry way
into the 80's and eventually disbanded. After all, the apathetic 80's
were just around the corner.
Abbie began pulling in large amounts for showing up at colleges.
Most of it went to causes. He had the occasional trouble finding liberal
students that would hear him out. The college students seemed too
concerned with resumes, internships, co-ops and things to worry about
Central American problems, or worn-out old protests of nuclear submarines.
But as apathetic as these students were, they seemed to love having him.
A year ago last September, he was inviting students to a well-planned
leftist convention at Rutgers.
He had no.................................................
idea, the following February, 600 would show up ready to vote,
and more than 500 more wanted to come "be-in." Was the 60's starting
all over again? Or was the same 70's (1770) revolution just hitting
another upstroke? Abbie joined Ginsberg, Little Steven VanZant, Amy
Carter, and other celebrated speakers inspiring tomorrow's youth down
at the New Jersey college, but towards the end, he got mad at someone
or somthing and took off.
His leaving agitated people just as much as his speeches. I think
he might've meant it. Whatever he did, it worked. There are a lot of
20ish people out there ready to come out of the woodwork whenever the
next abortion/marijuana/gay rights/no nukes/etc rally gets underway.
I wish I could be there doing more than watching it, but that's my job.
You do yours, OK? And do it 100% if you can.
When Abbie left the Rutgers convention, he went right home to battle
the Philadelphia Utility company about their unsafe power plant proposal.
Again, he should'a been able to count on those 1000 or so people to come
dribble down there, and help organize, but no dice. Only a few followed
through. But along with a group called Del-Aware, Abbie started a fight
that still continues. Philly has yet to break ground, just billyclub heads.
Abbie's actions throughout the 20th century sets us with a groundwork
for social engineering, political dissent, student activisim, outside
agitation, as well as participation with a messed up country that STILL
happens to be the most free nation we know about. A lot of the negative
short-range things he's started off have led to some awfully positive
restructuring possibilities. "Steal This Book" not only shows you how to
get something free, or sneak around; it teaches you to be creative, and
gets you started making the future yours. "Steal This Urine Test" not
only teaches you how to drink olive oil so last night's joint won't show up,
or how to pour battery acid from a rubber - screwing up millions of
dollars worth of technology, but it shows you how to make decisions
for yourself, and how to go about protesting violations of your privacy.
Any one of his books could be titled "A Patriot's Guide to Keeping
America Free."
Whether posthumous books are due is up in the air. No one knows
how aggressive/generous his brother-in-law or his girlfriend plan on getting
with his written work. Brother Jack HAS been reprinting "Steal This Book"
and a few other out-of-prints though, so if you missed any of them, now's
as good a time as any to put "Square Dancing" or "Soon To Be" on your
must-read list.
Abbie wrote on everything. Matchbook covers, napkins, address books,
dollar bills, tables, whatever was put in front of him. What he wrote
on mostly, though, was politics. TAP/YIPL might be gone, but many writers
across the land have been so inspired by that style, we've seen an "underground"
rag/fact sheet/fanzine (again, pick your own name for 'em) renaissance. A good
place to start looking for the Hoffmanesque writing style would be Reality
Hackers magazine which comes out monthly, 2600 magazine which comes out 4
times a year, ATI which comes out whenever, Phrack which comes out only in
"software" copy every two months or so.
Addresses can't be given here, naturally, but if you're savvy enough,
I'm sure you can find your way around.
If you want fame, pattern yourself after someone like Johnny Bench or
Geraldo Revera. But if you want to accomplish things in life, the ones to
watch are the Geroge Bushes, the Tom Clancys and the Abbie Hoffmans.
People liked to steal his driver's license, and his address book. Kind
of a perverted way to get a memento/souvenir/token. Kind of a great way to
piss someone off. The weekdays of the '80s were such a struggle for Abbie
to rewrite his phone numbers from memory, he began making copies to hand out
to anyone who looked like they might want one that desperately. Your second,
third...fortieth copy of your driver's license don't come cheap. I wonder if
Abbie still has an outstanding tab at Bucks County Motor Vehicle?
Phil Donahue type people started bugging the hell out of him around
87-88. It got so bad, he finally had to put a "leave me alone, Phil. I don't
wannabe on your show" message on his phonemate. Warner Brothers, Tri-Star,
etc. hounded him constantly the last few years to play himself in an
autobiographical movie which he always flat out refused. He offered to "play
someone else" though...
Abbie's last few years in a Philadelphia crash-pad-styled chicked-coop
were as quiet as he wanted to make them. He said they were very comfortable;
he was content. From this "headquarters" came the necessary magazine
articles, telephone interviews, event planning, and lecture scheduling.
When we invade a Honduras, bomb a Tripoli or destroy a gulf, you could
count on Abbie and his buddies to get those fones through the government
tan-boxes and give you an idea what's really going on. Sometimes he'd only
tell you a little, but he seemed to know everything. He didn't want to tell
ALL, because he didn't want to be your only source. That meant fame. And
you know how he felt about that.
He told you about Iranscam back in '82, told you about Carter getting
used on the hostage situation way back in '80. To say he was your "1980's
Deep Throat" was the journalistic understatement of the century. He gave great
background. But he said, "don't quote me", and he meant it. And you didn't mess.
Abbie Hoffman died quietly. The press didn't know until four hours later
that something was "news" in New Hope. He even missed the Sunday New York
Times deadline. On purpose? That meant there was no one on hand to shove a
microphone in his face and ask "how's it feel to be dying" or "do you have
any last words for my microcassette recorder here", or even "if you could
do it again, what would you change?" He wouldn't want to tell you anyways.
Don't send condolences in the usual way, steal a book.
See this article in its context where it was reprinted from at:
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
http://www.freespeech.org/kokopeli/abbie.html