Mark Matthews

Mark Matthews, author of Droppers: America’s First Hippie Commune, Drop City (University of Oklahoma Press, 978-0-8061-4058-2)

When did you start reading, and what did you like to read as a kid?

I began reading in first grade, I suppose, although I think I looked at the pictures rather than read the words for many years. I was too eager to understand the story to stop and read each word. I remember writing many, many book reports in the sixth grade without having read the books. My loss. In junior high I was finally able to slow down and concentrate on the words. I remember choosing to read any book that was listed on the back of the Classics Illustrated comic books. I still love reading the classics, although the archaic writing style sometimes frustrates me. I like feeling connected with the past. Nothing changes much, it seems, except technology.

When you were growing up did you have books in your home?

We had a set of juvenile classics (Treasure Island, Three Musketeers, etc.) and some old musty books in the cellar, including Shakespeare, which I found very mysterious. My father was a cop and when I reached high school he used to bring home a lot of discarded paperbacks from the distributor with the covers torn off. When I discovered the Morgan Memorial Goodwill Store in Lynn, Massachusetts, (we called it the Morgue) I got into buying second hand books. I picked up a set of Dickens for two bucks, but my mother made me store them in the basement because they weren’t new. She also discouraged me from bringing home any other second hand stuff—although she would scour the city for the cheapest whatever to buy to stay within her budget.

When did you think about becoming a writer? Was there someone who got you interested in writing?

In the sixth grade my teacher Mrs. Callahan read a short story I had written to the class. It was about some spies kidnapping Santa Claus. I was a big Man from U.N.C.L.E. fan at the time. I decided then and there to become a writer, but I never wrote anything else until I was in college.

How do you write? Do you have a daily routine? What’s good about it? What do you hate about it?

I approach writing as a job. Get to work every morning, take an afternoon break, and get back to it in the evening. I love the research that goes along with writing nonfiction. I love learning new things. I also enjoy the personal satisfaction that goes along with writing fiction—trying to make it all make sense and present the world with something original. I actually enjoy self editing more than the act of creation. Maybe because it’s easy for me and gives me a feeling of accomplishment.

I hate nothing about writing. I wake up every day eager to start. Having said that, that was not always the case. I did not do very well as a writer when forced to write longhand with a pen or pencil, or to use a typewriter. Sometimes I wonder if I ever would have become successful if someone had not invented the word processor. I worked on a novel after college for seven years on a typewriter, but didn’t finish it until I copied it onto a word processor.

Do you have any particular story to tell concerning the writing of this book?

I suppose I owe it to T.C. Boyle for stimulating my Drop City project—after he wrote his novel by the same name. I knew a little bit about the real commune named Drop City because I was friends with one of the founders—Gene Bernofsky. When I read a review of the novel I called Geno and said, ‘’Someone wrote a book about Drop City.’’ That piqued his curiosity, so he called the publisher, identified himself as the founder of Drop City, and demanded they send him a copy of Boyle’s book—which they did. After reading the novel, Geno told me, in so many words, that the real Drop City was nothing like Boyle depicted. Half jokingly, I said we ought to tell the real story of Drop City. Although a little hesitant, Geno finally agreed and we met for coffee once a week for two years.

Right away I wanted to expand the project because Geno was such an interesting personality and he’d done so many curious, anti-establishment things during his life. I’d always been interested in writing the history of unhistorical people who lead interesting lives and affect society in some way—under the radar—and Geno fit the bill with his environmental advocacy films, his union work, and his all-around lawful subversion. Plus, he may not have been the first hippie, but he was a good representation of the psyche of American youth during the late-fifties/early-sixties—rebelling against such institutions as the Draconian educational system, materialism, the consumer oriented economy, rampant racism, the standardization of American life. Throw in his artistic temperament, and juxtapose that to the carnage and hypocrisy of the Vietnam War, and you’ve got the major stimulants of the hippie cultural rebellion rolled into one person. However, because a biography would have revealed personal details of other family members, we dropped the “Bernofsky Chronicles” to focus solely on Drop City. Ultimately, I approached the project as if I were writing a biography of the commune, and I talked to and read up on others connected with Drop City.

I hope the book obliterates the negative perceptions with which the neo-conservative press routinely dismisses the sixties. Sure, a lot of kids smoked marijuana, indulged in promiscuous sex, and wore outlandish outfits during that era, but there was more than sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll connected to that cultural revolution. Without the hippies embracing the concept that all men are created equal we probably wouldn’t currently have a president who happens to have black skin. Or, blacks and whites would still be drinking from separate water fountains in the South, and sitting in separate sections of the bus. Out West, mining and timber industries probably would have already ravaged the few remaining wild places, and, the U.S. would probably be at war with a lot more countries than Afghanistan. Environmentalism really got going during that period. And, although consumerism still rules the economy, recycling has entered the consciousness of America—thanks in part to the things that were going on back in the Sixties. Drop City is a good example of that. The alternative energy movement also picked up steam during that era. Upon reflection, the counter culture generation will realize it has a lot to be proud of.

As for my experience publishing I have discovered that everyone seems to make money from a book except the author.

What is some good advice that you’ve received concerning writing? What’s some advice that you could offer young writers?

I can’t remember any specific advice anyone ever gave me, except maybe writing in the active voice. Having gone through the college workshop environment, most advice was negative, i.e. don’t do this, or, this doesn’t work. I tell my students that, in the end, it doesn’t really matter what you write. Just keep on creating and learning. So what if you don’t get published or attain fortune or fame? It’s better than sitting around watching television. And, of course, write in the active voice.

How did you find the publisher for this book? What has your experience as a publisher been like?

I called around the university presses shopping the idea for my first book on World War II conscientious objectors who helped start the smoke jumper program for the Forest Service. It was all a matter of luck. The second editor I spoke to—at the U-OK Press—was from Montana and had always been interested in the story and requested to see the manuscript.

What are you working on at the moment?

I’m polishing up a two volume history of social dancing in the United States. Promenading toward Democracy tells the story of European-based community dances such as squares and contras (plus, the waltz), while Jitterbugging across the Color Linerelates how African-inspired dances help integrate U.S. society.

What are you reading?

I just finished Parting the Water, a blow-by-blow account about the civil rights movement from 1957 to JFK’s death. It’s very inspiring. I’m just about to conclude The Wizard of Oz. No ruby slippers—they’re silver. Something to do with parting from the gold standard, I believe.

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