So I did. It wasn't exactly a glowing account of the school, and I was quite frankly surprised they posted it online for all the world to see.
For whatever reason, it has been yanked within the last year. And the link just goes to a rather anemic and incomplete bibliography. But, thanks to the Internet Archive Wayback machine, I have located the original post and am bringing it back to life since I get asked all the time about the 1970s TESC cartooning crowd. Here it is:
Evergreen Alumni Writers Project | ||
| Steve Willis The Evergreen State College, BA, 1979 Memories I attended Evergroove, off and on, from 1974 to 1979. Most of my time as a student was spent extending my adolescence as much as possible. I had no real direction or burning ambition, and was able to take advantage of TESC's anarchy to bounce from quarter to quarter trying on different ideas. So I learned, the hard way, what I didn't want to do. I didn't want to be an attorney, a social worker, a land use planner, or cartoonist. OK, I should qualify that last bit. I didn't want to be a cartoonist for a living. Before the creation of the term "zines," I had been self-publishing comic books inspired by the undergrounds since 1973. At TESC, between 1976-1978 I self-pubbed four books, all of them a source of great embarrassment today but at the time real stepping stones in my development as an outcast geek. By the time I graduated, I liked drawing what I damn well pleased and by 1981 had become active in the obscure and wild world of postunderground comix. The advent of cheaper, more accessible photocopy technology had brought a lot of folks like myself out of the woods and we formed a network, initially called "Newave", with Clay Geerdes of Berkeley acting as the godfather. From here, I could go on and get into a mini-history of this significant and frequently overlooked chapter of comic art. Or I could shift to late 1979 when I was driving a taxicab in Burlington, Vermont, and the story about how I went from transporting drunks home at night to becoming a librarian. But I'll return to the school we used to call, "The Evergrowing State Crisis." I lived in A-Dorm during my first quarter in 1974, and quickly discovered that my neighbor also drew cartoons. He was a real nice guy with a wicked sense of humor named Matt Groening. We became pleasant acquaintances and when he was assigned editor of THE COOPER POINT JOURNAL he did something extraordinary. Matt wanted to start a comic page, something the CPJ had previously never seen. Groening rounded up and recruited those of us who he knew liked cartooning, and then he managed to convert some fine artists, like Lynda Barry, to the world of comix. This was the only time in my life that I was ever around several other cartoonists for any length of time. Since we are a species that generally dwell alone in basement apartments, I can't say it was real comfortable. For my own part, being rural and provincial with a group of hip urban hustlers was something of a culture shock. But Matt was always very encouraging and positive. During the later half of the 1970s, Evergreen experienced a subtle shift from being a libertarian to authoritarian Leftist campus. Since cartoonists (at least the good ones) are irreverent by nature, the CPJ crew were the first to experience what would later be known as the terror of political correctness. Matt had set out to antagonize the school's administration and faculty. But his humor was so sharp and advanced, that his intended target became his most avid fans. The students, on the other hand, went ballistic when TESC satire appeared in the pages of the CPJ. The cartoons of Charles Burns in particular seemed to rile them. I can recall Matt sitting behind his desk, head buried in hands, moaning, "I didn't mean for it to turn out this way." I could almost use those exact words about my career as a student at Evergreen, except that I didn't really have a plan when I entered in 1974. And I didn't have a plan when I graduated in 1979. In TESC's favor, I must say that I might not have attended college if it hadn't been there. I was attracted to the place because overweight guys in suits up in the Capitol dome were trying to close it every legislative session. In the 1970s, at least in the earlier part, the school was dangerous, electric, a circus. But as it grows in national stature, becoming fat, happy, and complacent, with a well established inbred culture, I find myself no longer identifying with the school. We just grew in different directions. |
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