FD 110-1

14" x 20" 1968

Terrible photo of this great poster!

Here's a little "Mouseterpiece" from Stanley...the Statue of Liberty crying because there was so much repression and un-American behavior going on in our government at the time.

The Vietnam War was still in full bloom, there was gross discrimination everywhere you looked, and the people who were trying to get our country back on the rails were being vilified and arrested by those who were at the helm and should have known better.

There were cars all over liberal San Francisco proudly sporting the popular right-wing bumper sticker: "Kill a Commie for Christ!"...can you believe it?

The hippie phenomenon was a real sanctuary of sanity amidst all the insanity that seemed to pervade society at the time. It really was polarized, and it was amazing how much of the population was blind to where our country was heading and what it was doing in the name of "freedom."

When I moved to London in December of 1969 (I couldn't take America any more...England seemed so much more sane), I drove all my gear across country with a guy named Paul who had just got a van for payment of a bad debt. Paul couldn't drive, so the deal was that I would teach him to drive in return for him hauling all my stuff to New York for shipment to the UK.

We stopped at a truck stop outside Tulsa (we were going by way of Paducah, Kentucky to see his mum) and sat at a booth waiting to be served. I had fairly long hair, Paul had VERY long hair. All the truckers in the place looked at us like we were Martians. This was almost 1970!

We waited and waited, but the waitress wouldn't serve us. Finally one big dude got up and walked to the jukebox and put on Merle Haggard's "Okie from Finokee," which pretty much ran down long-haired hippie freaks, comparing them to subversives to the American Way of Life or some such nonsense.

They all laughed, and it was obvious we weren't going to get served there, and if we did, I wouldn't want to bet what would be in the food (my dad and grandad were chefs...I heard all the horror stories).

The Chevy's engine let go outside Nashville, and since there was a major GM service center there, we limped to Music Central to get a new engine under warranty. It seemed prudent for us to spend as much time in our motel room as possible, because you could cut the outright hatred with a knife when we were out on the street.

The second evening, we went to the liqour store across the boulevard to get some beers and found our way blocked by three pretty salty-looking mouthy dudes. Being a former Marine, and pretty much afraid of nothing, AND having taken karate for two years, I figured I could take out two of these creeps pretty quickly, but I was concerned about Paul, who seemed a bit geekish.

I stopped to assume the defensive position and wait for these clowns to make their move, but to my amazement Paul waded right into them without blinking an eye and cold-cocked the biggest guy with one vicious right to the nose.

The other two were stunned, picked up their friend, and with Paul's urging ("get the fuck out of here!"), they split, dragging their unconscious buddy with them.

Paul turned around, I looked at him absolutely agog, and he said, "I grew up in 5 points...you either fight, or get the shit kicked out of you. I was Golden Gloves champion!"

Ha! He was worried about me, and I was worried about him.

My respect for him rose tremendously as he told me stories of growing up in the rough part of NYC. Geek, my ass.

I don't even want to imagine what it must have been like to be black and in the south back then.

This striking poster of Our Lady is in perfect condition.