Names have been changed to protect the guilty
I had a friend named Jack who was into some of the hard Right thinking. He subscribed to several of their periodicals. He was an educated and intelligent man who ran his own business. I had worked for Jack for a while. His penchant for the Rightist stuff seemed paradoxical, as he was usually a cultured and thoughtful fellow.
The Rightist periodicals were rather bizarre. I had looked over some of them. The articles covered a wide variety of subjects from Jew-baiting to racism, international conspiracies and anti-government rants. Interspersed between them were advertisements for laetrile, gold
speculation and other crackpot investment schemes. Most of the people shown in ads were fat old men in white shirts and ties. Most of these rags were printed in the format of tabloid newspapers.
A small, Readers-digest-sized periodical was American Mercury. This one usually had pictures of the Founding Fathers on the cover, implying patriotism. Inside were the same racist rants, paranoid conspiracy chatter and anti-government diatribes as the other rags.
These rags claimed to support White folks. They were opposed to non-Whites, Jews, non-Christians ( me!), liberals, Democrats, Republicans, Catholics, Gays, junkies and a few others. Some were more extreme than others. Most of it was devoted to spreading hate. The factual content was minimal at best.
Jack really liked that stuff. Yet even he took half of it with a grain of salt.
One Saturday, Jack and I were going to a party at another friend’s yard. He decided to stop at his shop on the way. While there, a person assumed the shop was open and came in. He was a young Black man in a tye-dyed tank top and “Daisy Duke” shorts. Jack was by the front desk.
The man asked Jack if he could do a quick job for him. I could see that he had a typewritten sheet of paper with a few corrections. Jack told him he was closed, but could do it for him. He asked the young man to come back in half an hour. As soon as the man left, Jack smiled and said, “Beer money!”
Jack may have had his racist side, but when it came to business, all customers were treated well.
Jack set to work on the Selectric. This was a simple job that required no paste-up. As he typed, he laughed uproariously. In a few minutes, he withdrew the page, proofed it, and set it down on the desk.
“Look at this,” he said. Keep in mind, this was the 1970s.
I had to laugh, too. The flyer was announcing the formation of “encounter groups” for minority homosexuals. The lingo was typical 1970s jive talk. Terms like “hip”, “groovy” and “out-of-sight” were interspersed with other information.
The man came back. Jack handed him the copy in a folder. The customer was pleased and more than happy to fork over $20. Both Jack and I were able to keep a straight face. In 1976, $20 would buy plenty of beer.
Of course, he could not wait to tell his cronies about the “Black hippy-dippy tooty-fruity.” For a fellow with Jack’s attitudes toward race and such, this was a treasure too good to keep to himself.
From my viewpoint, Jack’s reaction to the customer was more amusing that the transaction itself. He was a like a school kid who could not wait to tell his friends about the kid who pooped his pants in grammar class.
Before you get politically correct, remember that in the 1970s, people made fun of Gay folks. It was considered acceptable. And “encounter groups” were something of a joke, too. They were a hold-over from the hippy days. Nonetheless, we made beer money and the Black man later became a repeat customer.
****
One of Jack’s accounts was a swinger’s club. They met at different places. Jack did the typesetting for their bulletin, flyers and announcements. He had a thick file on them that included articles, ads and other information. There were excerpts from various porn magazines and other such literature. Jack liked to let his friends ruffle through the file.
In case you did not know, a swinger’s club is one where members have sex with someone other than their spouses. Couples meet and pair off with each other’s spouse. Larger gatherings can best be described as orgies.
The folks running it were a couple in their early forties. The husband was a good -looking man. The wife was an unattractive, flabby chick with a gravelly voice. She looked more like a Skid Row barmaid than someone associated with a sex club.
One day, they needed a flyer for a rush job. The gist of it was: “Anyone who did it with Debbie needs to be checked out by a doctor.” Apparently, Debbie was one of the guests at their gatherings and had the clap. And from what the couple said to Jim, Debbie was very popular that weekend.
Jack worked out of his house the first couple years of his business. His office was the room behind the front room. I was working late to help get a large job finished. Normally I’d be gone before his right wing cronies arrived for their weekly gathering. Jack and I finished up as his friends arrived and sat in the front room.
We were just about finished when who came to the door, but the swinger club couple. They wanted him to do a quick flyer. Jack let them sit in the front room. He figured his friends would be patient and the swingers would wait patiently.
Wrong!
I was just about to leave when the fun started. Apparently, two of Jim’s friends were talking about something “conservative”. The swinger husband jumped into the conversation. He claimed to be conservative and also said he backed Castro in the 50s. Meanwhile, the swinger wife locked eyes on me and said, “How old are you?”
I stated my age. And I instantly regretted it. For all I knew, she was the type who liked younger men. And believe me, she gave the word “unattractive” new dimensions in meaning.
“I have a 29 year old married Swedish woman who would be perfect for you," she said. I caught my breath. I had seen their printed material - in fact, I helped make some of it. I knew the kinds of folks with whom they worked. And making it with a married woman? That is dangerous territory. The brother of one of my former classmates was murdered over a married woman. Trying to preserve my ego, I declined. At least the swinger wife wasn’t talking about me doing her!
Jack sized up the situation and immediately showed the swinger couple into the office. I stayed in the front room in case he needed me to do a rush job. His friends asked me who the couple was.
“They are one of our more unique customers,” I replied.
In a few minutes, Jack ushered them out of his office. We were glad to see them go. I waited to see the couple get in their car and drive off. Then I left. That was enough weirdness for one day.
Like many such groups in the 1970s, these swingers were poorly organized and careless. They had a lot of screwy incidents, conflicts and other nonsense. You learn a lot when you do someone’s typesetting. More than a few times, we designed “rush job” flyers and notices after some incident or another erupted at one of their gatherings. If I remember correctly, they disbanded before Jack moved into a larger office.
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In trades such as typesetting, you have to keep a straight face and take all customers. The only time to refuse a job, other than for technical reasons, is if it is illegal or very offensive. I remember one day we did work for a handful of religious institutions, from a Catholic parish to a gospel choir to the local chapter of a Satanic organization. The goal is to produce an end product that fits the customer’s wishes.
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Friends are friends. I do not demand that they agree with all of my principles. By the same token, I expect they do not demand the same of me. Some of my friends have odd beliefs to which I could never subscribe. Still and all, they are friends and will remain so.
I have friends who would not like each other for various reasons. It bothers me, but I cannot force people to change to suit my whims. Jack is an example. He knew that I did not agree with his racial and political beliefs and he respected that. Though I have not heard from him in 30 years - he moved far way - I like to believe some of his views mellowed with age. At heart, Jack was a good man with a generous spirit. Buried beneath that veneer of Rightist philosophy was an intelligent and cultured person. Paradoxes? Yes! But if you look at the folks in my world, who isn’t a paradox of one sort or another?
If you enjoyed this story, please feel free to check out the other articles in this blog.
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