CLINTON OTOUARTIRLY (o/ironu/e o f a fXart ’ibaneput) strictly on vacation. Our political dedication was flimsy. r Suddenly something made me Ztum around.. .away from the f stunning beauty ol the waves sparkling within this Mexican sunset. There was a movement In the brush behind us. I saw two male figures wearing full-face black masks, walking over the small hills. They were screaming. "Viva Zapala!" I saw a long- barreled rifle and a golden-andatrocities may simply be too large for the human imagination to grasp, but having lived one. I've got to try. So here I grasp . ' z t was spring break from college. 1971. Carol, John, and l were going off this year .. south of the border down Mexico Way. I’d known Carol since the first week of school, two and a hall years before, and we'd both known John tor a year and a hall. Carol was a pale, softwhose hearts live as strongly for friends as for self Perhaps more so, which may have been tne cause of his loneliness. His heart overwhelmed you. His warmth intimidated you. And his stomach was always churning as he walked the thin edge just this side of despair Then there was me. Nineteen years old. smalltown, and starving ... for something bigger, smarter, and not so damn Hat. I had tasted my first bit ol sophistication at a great western university. and it had moved me right Into chaotic contusion. The We left late in the afternoon from Carol's mother's house in San Diego We crossed the border with no trouble and drove about 60 miles Into Baja before deciding to stop for the night on a small beach. Darkness was approaching. We pulled in, turned on the cassette deck, laid out our sleeping bags, smoked a joint, started a small fire, and relaxed, watching the waves fluoresce, turning shades ol red as the hot sun set. The pltilul ramshackle poverty we had passed was but a fleeting wound. It was ugly, but we were We soon stopped again. Somewhere. A dark stretch of beach. They took off our gags and blindfolds. One hustled John away. The other got out our sleeping bags and set up two camps. John was gone I heard Spanish chatter. I heard John angry and pleading Stop it Stop it. you motherfuckers. Just stop it. John. John. I was with John. I knew they were taking him oil to his death i thought I heard gunshots. I thought they got John I couldn t believe it. My mind switched into a higher gear, and my body switched into a more convulsive That Grand] Wild sound of LIVES OF THE MINTS BettyCarter-DexterGordon By Lynn Darroch They ate voraciously as Dean, sandwich in hand, stood bowed and jumping before the big phonograph, listening to a wild bop record I had just bought called "The Hunt." with Dexter Cordon and Wardell Cray blowing their tops before a screaming audience that gave the record fantastic frenzied volume ... From the land of the bossa nova BRAZIL MIRACLE’ ONTHE BRINK in I) W ill Mil HOI I. \M» Ivisited Brazil for 6 weeks in May-June. 1977. Speaking little Portuguese, traveling very light, my wanderings took me through many regions and gave me an eyeful. Though I knew something of her history and had always dreamed of spending a Carnaval in Rio. nothing had really prepared me for what I was to see. Everywhere I went, from the smog-bound megalopolis of Sao Paulo to the most distant reaches of the Amazon Basin, things were on the move. My entree was a bus ride from the Paraguay border to the coast, some 6110 miles, a stretch I'd always understood to be largely unsettled. Our ultra-modern bus. driven whenever possible at breakneck speed, passed literally hundreds of farm-to-market vehicles, and the raw red soil of newly broken land stretched to the horizon in every direction. Photo-painting by Marly Stone ' IIELLEY AND St ZY AKE Tl IE FINEST GIRLS YOl C O IW E\LR HOPE TO MEET. THEY .ARE TWO I OF Tl IATCOMPANYOF'SOI LSWlIOSE Pl KITYAM) PERFECTION.ACCORDING TO ANESOTERIC TRAI )ITION OF IIEBRAIC Nh STICISM. ARE Tl IE ONLY JUSTIFICATION OF HI MANITYAM) WITH 017 WHOM THE WORLD WOIIJ) ILAYE LONG. SINCE PERISHED IN A BIAST OF CLEANSING FLAME. old pari ol (own where the streets are lined with red bock and green glossy QUEEN ELIZABETH DROPS BY THE Q.P. FOR A CUP OF H|OT JAVA 20 C/mton Sf. Quarterly Aseemingly endless land with untapped resources and miraculous opportunities has always beckoned the adventurous to Brazil ... As here, only a few “ignorant savages" stood in the way. 10 Clinton St. Quarterly
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