On Nov 30, 2004, at 7:12 AM, Louis Proyect wrote:
NY Times, November 30, 2004 He Ranted, He Raved, He Rode Out on His Own Rail
Louis, I wouldn't base my opinion of Bruce Anderson on a story from that citadel of journalistic integrity and accuracy, the New York Times.
Anderson's only redeeming quality I know of is that his paper carried Dan O'Neill's Odd Bodkins strip.
In an "expose" event on union and tree activist Judi Bari long after her death, Anderson and two other non-journalists asserted at UC, Chico, that Bari's husband bombed her, that Judi knew it and that she was protecting him. He also maintained that he was a good friend of Judi's. (I was in the audience with a video camera and he publicly accused me of being with the FBI!)
Judi hated his goddam guts. She, too, was a volunteer broadcaster on KZYX and she often railed against Anderson's caustic tripe posing as journalism.
Annie Esposito, the news director at the community station, has it exactly right: he pissed on people to sell papers. The very lowest kind of newspapering.
Here' are some lyrics to help set the record straight:
I SAW JUDI BARI �1997 Dan Scanlan
I saw Judi Bari singing in the crowd Not but five feet tall -- damn! she sings loud. She gave her voice to the redwoods, so giant, silent, proud Yeah, I saw Judi Bari, singing in the crowd.
Woman born of labor, labors to give birth Spreading wide with fervor -- damn! she fights with mirth. She organized the struggle against that goddam Maxxam dearth Woman born of labor, labors to give birth.
Her broken body battered by a bomber's blast Then cancer at full gallop grabbed her by the breast The press told bold lies -- their own and the FBI's They said she bombed herself They said she faked her cancer But standing tall as redwood Non-violence was her answer. And even in her death she had them all outclassed.
Yeah, I saw Judi Bari singing in the crowd Not but five feet tall -- damn! she sings loud. She gave her voice to the redwoods, so giant, silent, proud Yeah, I saw Judi Bari, singing in the crowd.
