MAIL

MAIL

Please send letters to:

MAIL Dept., CREEM Magazine P.O. Box P-1064, Birmingham, Ml 48012

THE PERSECUTION &

ASSASSINATION OF

FREDERIC WERTHAM

Brothers:

Due to rumors floating around because of letters by two members of my old group, the Archies, I would like to tell my side of the story.

Much of what Archie said was true. There was a lot of jealousy, but that’s not what hurt the group the most. It was the Decadent atmosphere which a hard rock group such as the Archies live I in.

Within a year after “Sugar Sugar” hit the charts, I was riot only a homosexual but a drug addict as well, regularly taking hard drugs like Dyna-mints and Dr. Pepper. Betty completely lost it, and will soon be seen as keyboard girl for the Stooges. Veronica married my brother out of spite. She wanted Moose, but Midge wouldn’t give him up. Jughead spends most of his time in the drunk tank.

I, though, have seen the light. Last year I became a disciple of (ex-Peanut) Linus Van Pelt, founder of the God-Is-AjBlanket faith. I am now working on a solo album, featuring Schroeder on keyboards, myself on bass and vocals, and Zonker Harris (of Doonesbury) on drums. Our first album is a rock-jazz opera based on the book Naked Lunch.

All glories to Burlington House,

Vaharam Regglfe Burger Queen, N.J.

JOHNNY GET ANGRY 1 appreciate the coverage of my efforts since the demise of the Dolls. However — let’s set the record straight. The Heartbreakersare very much alive. They include Jerry Nolan, Richard H^ll, and an added guitarist, called Walter. We snatched him from another group called the Demons which was started by a friendly wanker named Eliott. I’d appreciate you putting this correction in your mag so’s not to confuze the j*KIDS. '

Thanx. Your pal,

Johnny Thunders New York, N.Y. „

MADAME CURIE DISCOVERS RADIUM I’ve been reading CREEM for awhile now and love it. But I must admit I get the most laughs from “MAIL.” Especially when I read thd letters sent by the “Elton Girls.” Those are the big fans who can think of no one but the bespectabled blimp himself. Those girls make me laugh my ass off. But they-always get me dumped into selfdisgust. Because 1 know what they’re going through. Yes, I too was afflicted with the disease. The disease that causes millions of females like myself to buy every single magazine or piece of literature that even mentioned Elton’s name.

I had even convinced myself that he was cute back in the days of his Buddy Holly Specs. It was not until his role as the Pinball Wizard in Tommy was 1 cured.

I entered New York’s Ziegfield Theatre, anticipating on gorging myself in pure Elton. But hark! Instead, I discovered the Who, Eric Clapton, the soul of Tina Turner. Elton seemed bland and lifeless next to P&ter Townshend’s dynamic, guitar-smashing performance. Big EJ resembled a myopic monkey drowned in glitter when compared to the goocf looks of Clapton. He seemed like a beached whale compared to the beautiful bod of Daltrey.

1 left the cinema dazed. “What have I been missing?” 1 asked myself. 1 went into action, reading up on other stars.

I still have my old EJ albums, and I do enjoy his music, but, now that I am free of his clutches, now that he is no longer the reason I live, my record cabinet is filled with WHO, LED ZEP, KISS, STONES, DYLAN, ALICE and many more.

No, Elton is no longer my hero.

Rock and Roll rules me.

Sympathetically yours,

Linda Gallagher Highlands, N.J.

(“That’s the equivalent of arguing the merits of hot dogs versus hamburgers. What the hell difference does it make?” — Dick Clark, 1973.)

NEW BOWIE LYRIC PREVIEWED CREEM: This reminded me of your critics. It bears a striking resemblance:

A man must serve his time to ev’ry trade Save censure — critics are all ready made. Take hackneyed jokes from Miller, got by rote , i , With just enough' of learning to misquote; A mind well skilled to find or forge a fault; A Turn for punning, call it Attic Salt;

To Jeffrey go, be silent and discreet,

Hjs pay is just ten sterling pounds per sheet:. Fear not to lie, ‘t’will seem a sharper hit; Shrink not from blasphemy, ’twill pass for wit; Care not for feeling — pass your proper jest, And stand a critic, hated yet caress’d.

And shall we own such judgment? no— as soon

Seek roses in December — ice in June; Hppe constancy in wind, or corn in chaff; Believe a woman or an epitaph,

Or any other thing that’s false, before You trust in critics, who themselves are sore; Or yield one single thought to be misled By Jeffrey’s heart, or Lambe’s Boetian head. To these young tyrants, by themselves misplaced, t \ §

Combined usurpers on the throne of taste. —Taken from first two verses of ENGLISH BARDS & SCOTCH REVIEWERS by Lord Byron.

Signed,

Pinky

Richmond, Va.

P.S. Evidently Byron had to put up with creeps like you in his day.

(“‘Young tyrants’ — I like that. ” — Lester. The sissy needs an editor. — Ed.)

OUR PLACEMENT IN THE GENERALIZED CULTURAL SCHEMATA DELINEATED It occurs to me that what you are doing, is sort of being what Rolling Stone was from its inception until its maturity; say ’72. That is, to function as a source for the brightest, hipRest young people in America. The only difference (other than massive substantive ones) is that while we (I include myself) were very visible and did not realize'that our presence was essentially fiction; you hre largely invisible and realize full well that you are essentially fiction. I can’t be a part of it, but it soundsilike you’re having as much fun as I used to. I thought it was very nice of you to print the straight reply to that gorgeous letter in your Sept, issue from Carson, Calif. Thanks for | recognizing a letter sans any trace of scatology, gratuitous obscenity/hostility, words misspelled on purpose, or references to Elton John.

Owen Owens

Des Moines, Iowa *

(What are you, an atrophied cortex? Shape up, schmuck! — Ed.)

WHO GIVES ATRIP /

I have just discovered that CREEM, at last, has bungled. I have just been thumbing for the 88th time through the Sept, issue, and after absorbing the silver words of Lisa and Lester, turned to the Beach Boys article by David Tipmore. Listen Dave, you did a pretty good job of making a dumb (but charismatic) band sound like God’s gift to le monde, but you neglected one little item. “...I went backstage at Madison Square Garden to nave a little chat with Mike Love...the one who writes those lyrics about ‘...the worst trip I ever been on’ in ‘Sloop John B.’”

Ever since the B.. Boys released that song, I have been waiting for them to claim it as their own, just to give me the chance to write an irate letter, but they have been discreet and always said, “arranged by.:l”. “The Sloop John B.” is a calypso song that originated in the Bahama Islands around the turn of the century. I ought to know, all modesty aside, because my maternal family for generations has lived in the Bahamas, and if you must know, the song was written by my great-grandfather, Patrick Burns.

I’ve thought about writing the Beach Boys for a long time, but standing on my platforms, I haven’t been able to stoop that low, so I’m telling you. I just know your consciences will be bugging you for the rest of your lives.

Ciao,

Sandy Wood-Prince

Nashville, Tenn.

(Ox-puckey! Everybody knows that spng was really written by Bobby Bloom. Your life’s great secret is a farce! Go join the WAVES. — Ed.)

ONE MORE WIPED OUT NUT Some might compare Bob Dylan with Muhammad Ali but aren’t Paul McCartney and Ali brothers in casual grace, also known as sprezzatura, as well as jive. Like Ali did with Foreman, Paul went to Africa, got his chops together, and scored an effortless knockout with Band On-the Run. And the recent efforts of both gqys, while less matchless,were at least nonchalantly professional. What’s more they’ve both got chubby faces.

Ace Module

Pelham, N.Y.

(How about handicapping the Allman Brothers tour? — Ed.)

SOFTN'DRY

I just picked up yourSept. issue and freaked over the story and pictures on Aerosmith! Bpt, as I was glancing at your “mail” department, I noticed a quite out of the* ordinary, thing: many of the letters you printed were ordinary, sane, clean material (as opposed to the usual unique, lunatic, obscene notes ycya display). This caused me to ponder. I thought about all the times I’d sat at my little desk working feverishly to think up the stupidest, most perverted things I could to say to you in a letter. I’ve sent you countless notes dripping in puke and obscenity, hoping you’d print it (after all, it worked for everyone else). But now, after seeing how you’d not only printed these deep, heartbreaking letters, but also even thanked one kid for writing you such a tasteful and'All-American note, I’ve decided that from now on, I will smother my true fsersonality when writing you notes. I will not use any obscene or lude [sic] language, I will not purposely misspell any words, nor will 1 mention Elton John. From now on, it’s gonna be sincere, clean talk.

Now, as I mentioned before, I just loved your stuff on Aerosmith. Thanks a million for it, you swell guys. 1 really adored those phptos, too. Especially the ones of Steven Tyler. I was rather overwhelmed with the photo of Steve grasping his genitalia. I really felt quite sorry for him when I saw this picture. 1 could tell he was in excruciating pain, by his face. They say the crabs in Boston are really huge, you know.

Another picture 1 really enjoyed was the one where Steven is standing over the rhododendron plant. I found it interesting how the plant seemed to obtain a phallic sense in this picture. Now 1 think I will be subconsciously stimulated next time I see one of these growths (the plant, that is).

The photo of Steven with the large dental floss on stage was quite entertaining also. As for the actual conversations between Wayne Robins and Tyler — well, that was quite ecstatic too. I enjoyed reading about Steven, and I really thrilled about what he said. I became extremely stimulated when he discussed his favorable attitude toward the orgasm, and I really was quite impressed with his psychlogical knowledge of people who masturbate. To sum it all up, -I really loved the whole thing. Keep the stuff on AerOsmith orgasming. We really do adore them out here.

Down on a muffin,

Audrey

Canoga Park, Calif.

(You are quite possible the biggest pervert in the history of this magazine. Sheesh, the way some people get their kicks. — Ed.)

HOW TO DRESS A WOUND Last night 1 read your October issue and I mean actually read it from cover to cover! (Even the ads.) 1 must say that from now on I am definitely buying and reading every issue instead of. just looking at the pictures.

1 enjoyed all the articles — especially about guys in suits! Suits make a guy more masculine and so-o sexy! I bet you CREEMer guys enjoy wearing suits with a vest and a lovely lady holding your arm and wearing a dress!'

Capricorn Allen Park, Mich.

(Some sicko you are! You’ve sat through too many Bryan Ferry matinees. Our new Managing Editor, “Bob” Haldeman wears a suit all the time — crew cut to boot! Cat’s slick! The rest of us wear wetsuits (Michigan winter coming). As for dresses, the shorter the better. MORE LEG! Nylons optional. Suits — goddam civil libertarian. — Ed.)

BUT FOR BUKOWSKI, THE JIG IS UP How ironic you should send a genius like Bukowski to write a story about a huge erection. It’s a badly kept literary secret that the old man hasn’t had a hard-on in years.

But it was a good, slimy stroke of genius to finally expose him to the public, such as your readers. Bukowski has tried for public exposure several times on his own, with the same result — Police Actioh. (I want his address please. I know a whore that might push his dick past his pubes.) (I also want a glossy 8 x 10.)

Michael J. Berneathy

Chula Vista, Calif.

(Bukowski: “In regard to Berneathy, Idon’t know where he came across this ‘badly kept literary secret. ’ I get enough hard-ons to drive any man crazy and I have usually been lucky enough to have one or two ladies about to handle the action. Of course, all this could end overnight — if they drop the hydrogen bomb on Los Angeles. As per police action, who the hell hasn’t suffered from that? As per whores I live in the whorehouse district at Hollywood and Western and one of my friends runs one of them and if I need anybody to push my dick past my pubes I’ve got the choice of the house. When I need Chula Vista the world will be a parsnip wrapped in zig-zag. ”)

THE RETURN OF CAMP RUN AMUCK Getting'tired of those same old humdrum Saturday morning cartoons! Sick of those same old Beatles and Josie and the Pussycats reruns??? Well I gotcha this time. Yeah, you guessed it! The “Lou Reed Show”. This hour-long snoozer should really make your Saturday mornings worth staying in bed.

Just imagine all the feeling and excitement (?) of Lou sleeping, eating, throwing up on his manager Dennis Katz, the drama of Lou recording “Metal Machine Music”, not to mention such tender love scenes with Lou making love to a rock. What more can your heart desire!?!

Just remind the network not to run him against Bugs Bunny and the Road Runner!

Harry Kopy

Roselle Park, N.J.

(I moved)

By the way, if Lou’s looking for a demented bass player, tell him to look me up, or.my rock!

WHY JIMMY CANT REED My mother says that Jimmy Reed is Lou Reed’s daddy. Have you ever heard anything so stupid? Everybody knows they’re just brothers. Mom reads your column every day and accepts your word as gospel so would you please settle this arguement once and for all and put the old bag in her place? (She has to take speed to watch soap operas.)

Cocksure in Kansas

(Nonsence, everybody knows Donna Reed is Lou’s mom by immaculate conception, and if your mother does the last thing you said she must be related to Lou. — Ed,)

SHEEPTRASH?

1 live on a farm, and my friend wanted me to hear some rock ‘n’roll, real rock ‘n’ roll is what she told me. She gave me a Led Zeppelin tape, it was supposed to be their third album.

Well, if you people want to hear some comments from a farmer on rock ‘n’ roll, you’re gonna hear it. ROCK ‘N’ ROLL IS SICK...You know what my father,said when I played “Hats Off to (Roy Harper)”? Dad said, “I thought that was a sheep when I was outside.” I stepped outside and let the tape play full blast, and the singer really did sound like a sheep, worser than, that, A SICK SHEEP! ' , 1 1

TURN TO PAGE 82.

CONTINUEDJROM PAGE 10.

The next day in school my friend showed me a picture oi this sheep (Robert Plant), and gave me this address where I could write your magazine. Well tell that Robert Plant he sounds, and looks like a sheep. 1 think I’ll stick to Hank Williams.

Country Lover <

Gordondale, Alberta

ADVANCE MAN

What happened to Patti Smith? If I’m not mistaken, her last article appeared in the June ’75 issue.

You see I miss her, and I"need her. I’m bored, ' bored, bored with rock ‘n’ roll music. Why? Practically everyone in the business from this point of view has been pitiful this year and last year... 1 -

Patti Smith isn’t pitiful, she can stand on her own two feet — as is obvious from her various prose-poetry that has appeared in CREEM over the past few years. She can dream' and she can rock.

Most especially; she rocks unliKe anyone else, in her own unique /way. -Surely uniqueness is a treasured rarity in any vacuum. Also:,Patti has an eye for the future. And the desire to progress, to chart what’s coming, is the indication — and the burden — of a true artist.

Sincerely,

Glenn Gannaway Gate City, Va.

(Finally you got yourself a letter printed, but more than that finally Patti has an album which should be out in the raclc§ by the time you’re reading this. Ed.)

BROKEN FACES

Who is that foul mouthed fool? Lester Bangs of course! Horror of the rock ‘n’ roll set. I would like to know what business that fool has writing on probably the greatest living talent in the business. Yes 1 mean Rod Stewart and his Fabulous Faces and no stupid comment from your equally stupid editor like “Whatever happened to Annette Funicello”—any fool knows she’s been dead 3 million years. I know that breaks little * Lester’s heart knowing his longtime adoration of the Mousketeers but as I always,say anyone who puts down Ron Wood deserves not only to have his heart broken but his nose broken , too. Oh, by the way, instead of tearing apart hotel rooms I tear apart magazine editors.

Love and broken arms,

Garen Murray

Eamonton, Alberta, Canada (Lester: “Tell Anne I said hi!”)

HOT PIX(THE KIND MEN LIKE)

1 wish the cover for the next Rolling Stones album would be Mick by Diahe Arbus, if she isn’t dead.

Yrs truly,

Jim Elgin Caldwell, Idaho

(Too late; how abopt Charles Gatewood? — Ed.)

FREE DR. EDELSTEIN Thursday 3:24 p.m.

Gret — (?)

Bought the new CREEM today. Faw rat it didn’t get too wet walking from the bowling alley in the rain. So was I, but who cates.

If Todd is so fucking “cosmic” then why did he do such a long oldies set (incl. Nazz) in Central Park a few weeks back? (Although he also did that synthesizer tune-up as well). Do you know I heard “Open My Eyes” on the Easy Listening Station?

Todd was “Born To, Synthesize”. Bruce Springsteen was “Born To Run.” Roger McGuinn was “Born To Rock ‘n’Roll.” Rare Earth was “Bbrn To Wander.” Cream was “Born Under A Bad Sign.”; Jack Flash was '•‘Born In A Cross-Fire Hurricane.” I was born in a hospital but I’m not singing about it. (How was Eno born?)

Well, keep up the good work or whatever you folks do back there.

Fuck you Tangerine Dream Captain Underlight Tee minus 13 and counting Lonesome and a long way from home (Indeed, you present a compelling case for abortion on demand. — Ed.)

THE LOONS THAT ^(AKE MILWAUKEE FAMOUS This lefter is being written in regards to comments made by jerry garcia & alvin lee about the city of milwaukee we will attempt t6 balance said comments: not that anyone here gives one fuck what either of these foggy whimps has to say. lee called milwaukee audiences backward that statement is complete in itself obviously anyone who’d go see alvin lee has his head in a hole as for garcia; garcia is living proof Indians fucked buffalos all i have to say is that in the past 9 months we’ve had outstanding shows by the kinks & roxy music, a fair stones concert, an effervescent performance by the godz at the bottom of lake michigan, and a full moon amphetamine shriek on halloween night by big lou -you might note lou has played the’vicinity about 6 times in the last 2 years (thats a little under 2 weeks for lou) i happen to know he’s searching for Waldo Jeffers’ crate (it is now mid-august) little does he know i got it out of the basement of ed green’s house (where the upholstery has lips) but i won’t keep it

Leopold

milwaukee & the world

(Little does he care. But you got a good attitude. And where can we get some of your upholstery? - Ed.)

JUST SOME PYGMY WITH DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR If me mind and eyes are correct, 1 seem to remember yqu had a Bowie Look Alike Contest. So out of the blue why dontcha have an “Elton” Look Alike Contest.

And why not, look at the publicity and BoJive you people would get.

And yes, you’re wondering why I suggested this, mqinly because I’ll win.

Here’s coke in my nose,

Mark Alan

East Detroit

(Because we already found a seal in the Detroit Zoo who would win flippers down. — Ed.)