Where are we now? Same place we were in 1974, where else? Here, back then, at University Methodist Church (Greenwich Village), Jane Fonda led an anti-Thieu caucus and general hee-haw that chocked the joint to its load limit. I wrote about this church: “Bareness with rococo ornamentation, like an old vaudeville palace reduced to showing X films.” Still is. Maybe worse. Massive organ pipes appear skeletal: could be the rib-cage bare carcass of organized religion itself. Methodism now, I think, has something to do with Stanislavsky. Tonight just four dozen show up in support of draft resistance: insignificant, you might argue, but so the first armpit buboes seem.
How do they look? Like a grainy outtake from Columbia ’68. Démodé. Dated. All but three or four are young. Beard and ponytail and single earring on the men. Women, all distraught hair and serape, who appear to have had an intramuscular injection of plainness. Belted swim trunks are less unfashionable.
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