Three American Magazines

There are speciality magazines everywhere--for lapidarists, and model trainists and aviationists and autoeroticists. But there is only one publication designed solely for those brave men who make a career of fighting other people's battles. Soldier of Fortune--The Journal of Professional Adventurers.

The June issue, cover dominated by a man in a white jumpsuit and a yellow hard hat cradling a machine gun, features research pieces on dozens of new lightweight automatic rifles, and articles sporting titles like "Death in the Delta." The letters columns ("Flak" and "Cuss and Discuss") carry wide-ranging opinions on men and munitions. Larry Loper, of Sugar Land, Texas, contributed the following to one discussion of the relative merits of 45s vs 9 mm ammunition. "Let's try an experiment," Loper suggests. "Lie flat on your back on a bench or table. Have a friend--or enemy--take a baseball bat and slam it into your gut with all the force he can. Your skin remains unbroken and there is no wound. Yet you are rolling on the floor, puking, due to energy transmitted via hydrostasis and body reaction. A good hollowpoint does the same thing. IT drills a hole in the body, then gives it s good kick in the gut."

The lead article--no less than the third in a three-part series--concerns illegal aliens in the Southwest. Or, more accurately, it is about the "Silent Invasion--Brown Tide Threatens America." N.E. McDougald, the author, describes a series of nighttime maneuvers with the fearless men of the U.S. Border Patrol, and then offers his and others' views on the dangers unrestrained immigration presents.

"We were talking about millions of them, living comfortably in the U.S., taking advantage of our services, and paying little, if any, taxes.... Foreign espionage agents also enjoy the freedom of our turnstile border...New Mexico is officially bilingual... 'A low regard for life is part of Mexican culture, so when an illegal comes north, that culture usually travels with him'... 'The country is being overwhelmed, with no effort being made to stop it. But I think a change in the national attitude could correct it."

Soldier of Fortune bulges with advertising, most of it aimed at the high-priced professional "adventurer." There are lots of advertisement for books, on every topic from how "to build a submachine gun in your home workshop," to "a revealing look at fantastically effective sniping techniques," the latter complete with a chapter on "Sniper Employment." Maybe you need German Paratrooper Boots? Or a knife called the Dwarf ("the bastard of the mating of wormeaten wood with twisted steel.") Or perhaps you are "ready for the fun and excitement of the M-19 A" submachine gun? All are available in the Soldier of Fortune market place.

Lest you fear Soldier of Fortune is too macho for your perusal, rest assured the magazine has something for everyone. As an example, there is Bill Carpenter's informative treatise on "Guns for Gals." Carpenter begin his accout with the story of a woman who heard a noise at the door and called the police, only to be told that because of budgetary problems it would take some time to answer the call.

"When the police finallyarrive, you probably know nothing of it, because you are raped, kidnapped, dead or beaten badly. Sounds frightening, doesn't it?" It certainly does, but Carpenter has the solution--guns. Because "in many cases the man of the house must be away from home due to work etc," women need firearms. Big firearms, because smaller ones "lack the stopping power to bring down an advancing felon." Carpenter admits his advice may be legally questionable. "Some states have ridiculous laws, such as one can shoot in self-defense only if the intruder states he intends physicals harm" But fire away anyway, he recommends pithily.

"I would much rather be tried by 12 of my peers than have six of them as pallbearers."

EASY RIDERS--Entertainment for Adult Bikers, monthly, $1.75, published by Paisana Publications.

Easyriders is an up-front magazine. As the editor says in his introduction to an interview with David Duke, the Grand Wizard of the KKK, "Anyone who has read us for any period of time knows that we're up-front about everything and believe absolutely in freedom on the press. At times we present controversial articles, knowing full well we may catch some flack from someone, somewhere--and we welcome it. We firmly believe in presenting both sides of any issue, and so we will certainly print rebuttals to the following up-front interview."

Earl Warren couldn't have said it better; in the name of the First Amendment, Duke discloses, among other things that "white people face massive discrimination in employment opportunities, in scholarship opportunities in school, in promotions in industry, in college entrance admittance.... We prefer things that are white. We prefer the white race in terms of physical beauty, we prefer the white race in terms of our heritage and culture. We prefer our lifestyle to that of blacks and non-whites around the world...the discrimination whites are experiencing today is far more massive than what blacks experienced in the past."

Up front means more than politics though. Easyriders is honest about every controversial topic--sex, 130 mph motorized tricycles, farting and even death. A member of the staff, Ken Stambaugh, was killed in a motorcycle accident a few days before publication, and Easyriders' lead columnist, Spider, eulogized him in this fashion: "I didn't get to know the man--he'd just been with us a few weeks. He was working on his S.U. carb on the shoulder of the road near our firetrap the other night when a broad in a cage went off the road, smackin' him and his sled, shovin' 'em a hundred feet down the road. It makes you wonder why these things happen."

Letters fill large chunks of Easy Riders. A true classic, reprinted here in its entirely, came from Pete Chambly, Quebec, Canada: "I'm typing this letter because I can't write for shit." A testimony on behalf of children comes from "The Widow," a native of Salisbury, Md. "This is to all you outlaws who think rugrats are a hassle. Kids are the only way to keep our lives free! We've got to teach our babies about love and brotherhood. We've got to make them proud to be scooter people."

The only letter signed with a real name comes from W.K. Coors, of Golden, Colo.--"Word has reached me that an unfounded rumor that the Adolph Coors Company, or members of the Coors family, have contributed money or support to national gun control legislation continues to be spread. I wish to inform everyone that neither myself nor my company has made any contribution of this kind. It is unfortunate that unknown persons seeking to malign our company and injure our reputation have taken this dishonorable way of turning thousands of good friends against us.," The editor replies: "I'm hip--it's a good brew.

Sprinkled through Easyriders are advertisements for a dazzling array of products tied to the motorcycle lifestyle. There are "macho suspenders in Harley colors," and a three-record set of "War Songs of the Third Reich." You can order a handcrafted, bone china beer mug in the shape of a human skull, skull, or a part of your motorcycle plated in gold, or an eight-track tape that will teach you how to "make your dog a real man-stopper."

In short, Easyriders is consistently accessible. Another passage from the magazine's James Reston, Spider: "I'm about to pay my taxes, folks, so I'll strap another one on ya. The Feds just gave a professor $100,000 to figure out how pigeons remember things. Shit, I've always wanted to know that--haven't you?"

TIME--weekly, $1,25, published by Time, Inc.

Once a week, Time covers the world. Colorfully.

Color is a commandment taken literally by the seasoned corps of hardnosed reporters that hold high the Henry Luce standard. The June 16 issue, for example, includes in its lead story the following information: Ted Kennedy travelled in a "long, black Lincoln Continental" wearing a "diplomat's dark blue suit." He made his decision to stay in the presidential race "after several hours of discussion with a break for sandwiches.

An accompanying piece about the president's Republican rivals catches Ronald Reagan and Gerald Ford "stroll(ing) out of their meeting near the 13th hole of the Thunderbird Country Club in Palm Springs..." Ford, always a clothes horse, was "smiling and relaxed in a blue blazer and beige slacks," A story on ghetto problems discusses a "black former newpaper publisher in a gray pinstripe suit." The "People" section of this weekly reveals that when Idi Amin walks down the strets of Saudi Arabia "he wears the shapeless white thobe gown and ghutra headcloth."

Beyond their prismatic gift for tint and shading the editors of Time have a real talent for discovering anguish. the illustrating example abounds--a teaser for the cover story on "Help--Teachers Can't Teach" tells of one teacher who "suffered a literal case of 'teacher burnout." Returning from lunch one day, he found flames leaping from his classroom window." Another mother despairs, "How do you tell your chid that contrary to what the teacher says, pin and pen are not homonyms?" But virtue lives on in some corners. One teacher "scrubs the desks in her classroom herself and sweeps the floors three times each day. Says she: 'Kids sense the order, and they like it. They behave differently in a clean classroom."

Time delights in the story behind the story. Maddened by a putdown from Joan Kennedy but under orders not to respond, "Rosalynn Cater's anger vibrated through the White House corridors" only to show up on the Time Inc. seismograph. And the talent for summation almost overwhelms. When voters told pollsters that they wouldn't support Jimmy Carter in November, "their mood was captured by Roy Brown, a food company executive in Fort Lee, N.J., who declared: 'We need a change. anything would be better than four more years of Jimmy Carter."

Each week, the last page of the magazine features the "Time Essay." This week, Frank Trippett used the space to discuss "The Human Need to Break Records." Pointing to gigantic games of musical chairs and quick consumption of jalapeno peppers a proof, Trippett concludes,"Only humans striving for more than mere survival have elaborated competitiveness into the cultural imperative that it is . The obsession with setting records is finally inextricable from the human determination to rise above the past." Consider, in closing, another Trippett observation, "The act of dying," he says, "is one of the very few human activities that do not stir up competitive fever among people."