UPDATE III 9 September 1997 Dear Friends, Here's the latest: Still working as desktop publisher in the production department at Columbia University Press, I work with book designers in laying out books -- using the software program QuarkXPress on a Macintosh "Power PC" computer to do the on-screen "electronic paste-up" now required to prepare all the pages of a book (both typography and graphics) and perfect them in every detail before sending the book off (on disk) to be printed and bound. After taking two graphic-design courses in the spring, I came up with a small typographical portfolio that may be of some use in the future. I'll be putting together a basic book-design portfolio during the rest of the summer and the fall. By the end of the year I should be ready to take on some book-design jobs of my own. The design director at CUPress has been helping me out with this effort. I'm still sub-letting a beautiful apartment in Washington Heights, north of the George Washington Bridge, with a view of the bridge and the Hudson River. It's in a co-op apartment building which has limitations on the amount of time an apartment can be sub-leased -- but, providing I get the approval of the co-op board at the end of each year, I could still be at the same address for as long as another two and a half years. Whenever I have to move, I would want to stay in the same neighborhood. It's only seven subway stops away from the Columbia campus, where I work, and a relatively short commute each day. Also, of course, the rent level there is right for me -- and, by now, the neighborhood feels like home. All our family's kids seem to be doing well. Henry is happily married to Kitty in Washington, DC, and continues to take on increasing responsibility in the Environmental Protection Agency. Christine continues to work as a physician's assistant in a family-practice clinic in Seattle, but has been giving serious thought to doing volunteer medical work abroad. Genevieve will be returning in the fall to the California School of Arts & Crafts in Oakland for her second year of study toward a degree in art. Rose graduated from the Chicago Institute of Art two years ago and remains in Chicago, working in computer graphics. Mary's ashes, in the meantime, have dissolved into the Atlantic. Since her death, I have been a practicing Buddhist, and for the most part I study the teachings of the Dalai Lama as an educational aid to my own meditation. This year I took my two weeks of vacation in June in order to attend the Dalai Lama's three days of teachings in upstate New York; four days of teachings in Los Angeles; and the Peacemaking Conference in San Francisco, where Nobel Peace Prize laureates Josi Ramos Hortas of East Timor, Rigoberta Mencchu of Guatemala (her sister, actually, standing in for her), and His Holiness the Dalai Lama, among other major human-rights advocates (such as Harry Wu), addressed the issues of nonviolent conflict resolution among inner-city youth and the active use of civil disobedience to protest human-rights violations around the world. I also relate especially well to the teachings of Tibetan Buddhism as passed down through the Western mind of Prof. Robert Thurman, the preeminent academic authority on the subject, who conveniently teaches at Columbia University and lives nearby. I helped to get Prof. Thurman signed up with CUPress to edit a reference volume on Eastern religions, and am hoping to be able to work in some editorial capacity on that. I already edit his audiocassette albums for Tibet House, here in New York, and recently published an edited version of one of his Basic Buddhism lectures in the local (and L.A.) journal Free Spirit. That could lead to a book of such lectures, which we've been talking about with a friendly publisher. I'm also still connected -- hanging by a thread, as yet unbroken -- to the New York art-book publisher Stuart, Tabori & Chang, through my literary agent Sara Jane Freyman, with the proposal for an illustrated biography, The Dalai Lama of Tibet. The editor there asked in January for ten more pages, in addition to the three interior pages and cover painting originally submitted, to reassure her colleagues of our ability to sustain a dramatic and sequential narrative in an illustrated format. By September I hope to be able to turn in five new pages, inked and colored, for their review, in the hope that five pages, and not ten, will allay any anxieties or uncertainties about our capabilities. I believe the combined illustrative forces of my friends Dennis Janke, Marjorie Strauss, and Marc Greene should be enough to convince anyone on that point -- but production is a long-term, time-consuming task when there is no seed/support money and everyone must fit in the project, wherever possible, around the demands of their paying jobs. A contract with an advance would make a tremendous difference, but publishers are very cautious and conservative these days -- they're losing money as never before -- so we practice our patience and perseverance, while keeping the faith, in the hope that withthe completion of these five pages, a new productive day will dawn. The other major book project that holds some promise of being bought and given a material reality is the book on the Huichol culture of Mexico by Juan Negrin. The book would deal with not only the culture, the environment, and the art of the Huichol, but the work that Juan did with them over the last 25 years in the attempt to help them to preserve their traditional culture -- by means of educational exhibits of their art, as well as cooperative ventures in woodworking and weaving that helped the Huichol people to retain more autonomy over their natural resources and their own lives. As a result of a fortuitous visit by Juan to their editorial offices here a few months ago, this book, which has always had the potential for being lavishly illustrated and produced, is now under serious consideration by Harry T. Abrams Publications, the largest, most heavily funded art-book publisher in the country. An enthusiastic response by Harry Abrams editors to Juan's portfolio of visual materials has led to new requests for additional materials, both textual and visual. So far, it looks very promising. I would guess that by the end of the summer we will know whether they are going to go for itor not. And we continue to hang on the edge... William Website address: http://www.spring.com/~wmmeyers

20 January 1997 To bring all my friends up to date at once, here's what's been happening with me: * I've been working long hours at Columbia University Press, working with designers in the production of books with QuarkXPress; I've also begun taking some classes in basic design & typography at the Fashion Institute of Technology in order to acquire and expand my own skills in book design. And I've been learning how to put this all presentably on a Web site with the assistance of my friend Marc Greene. It's been a long time coming, but the site is due for a major expansion soon, with a new art gallery, among other things. * The Dalai Lama of Tibet -- the Illustrated Life Story has been my major personal project for the last three years. My feeling for a long time has been that the book would be a hot and highly marketable item if it came out before the release of the upcoming movies about the Dalai Lama -- Kundun by Scorsese; Seven Years in Tibet by Annaud; and two or three others in the works, one by Oliver Stone. But the first two movies mentioned are due to be released by the end of 1997, and any book we return to work on now, should a publisher finally offer us a contract, would need at least two years to be produced and distributed. I would anticipate spin-off comic (or graphic-novel) versions of these movies, once the money has been generated to finance them. It's been frustrating for the last year and a half, having conceived of the idea originally and wanting to come out first with the best. Money has been a problem all along in getting the project moving. The first artist I asked to collaborate with me on the book -- Eva Van Dam, the Dutch artist responsible for the graphic novel called The Magic Life of Milarepa, which inspired this one -- demanded $500 a page to produce anything, even as samples to be included in a proposal. Not having great cash reserves, I had no choice but to look for someone else, then met Alex Grey, and in the forging of a new friendship, got his agreement to produce some sample art for interior pages (with the assistance, also volunteer, of Dennis Janke & Marjorie Strauss, of DC Comics); I also paid Alex a token $1,000 for a cover portrait of the Dalai Lama which could probably sell for ten times that much, and it's such a masterwork in itself that it has lent great weight to the proposal package that's been^Emaking the rounds of publishers, and has helped to keep the project alive. Now, after many attempts by my agent Sara Jane Freyman to find a publisher for the book, we finally have one -- Stuart, Tabori & Chang, "the illustrated-book publisher" in New York -- which has expressed enough interest in the project to invite all of us involved with it to their offices for a meeting about it. The editor, Erica Marcus, who called the meeting, liked the idea of a graphic novel based on the life of the Dalai Lama, but had some criticisms of the sample interior pages, particularly the typography, and asked that those pages be done over with some minor changes; and she also asked for eleven additional pages, not in color but finished in black & white -- dealing with the story of the discovery of the young Dalai Lama that brings Part One to an end. She asked for this additional material in order to have a sure sense of our ability to sustain a coherent narrative with a dramatic continuity that's engaging and powerful enough to sell a lot of books. Unfortunately, Alex is no more enamored of rendering sequential art than he ever was -- he just couldn't make the leap, though he gave it a good try -- and has no problem making the money he needs to support his family, being what he undeniably and most fundamentally is: a highly successful painter of visionary art. It was regrettable, I thought, that the art-book editor we met with did not have more appreciation of the potential offered by his being there in her office at all. I was already prepared myself to accommodate Alex to whatever level he felt comfortable with, valuing his collaboration to the greatest extent. But to produce eleven more pages of the Dalai Lama story -- which for Alex can be no other than time-consuming and highly meticulous work, yet with no sure promise of any financial compensation, just the promise to accept the book and push it at the acquisitions meeting -- is, under the circumstances of his life, understandably too much to ask. Even if I were to raise enough money to pay him the $500 apiece for those pages that Eva Van Dam was asking, I think he would probably still prefer not to do it. Having just finished a major work -- an altariece/triptych with seven panels, called The Nature of Mind -- he's hard at work now on his next book. Sara Jane told me after the meeting with the Stuart, Tabori & Chang editor that she thought Erica was right -- that more substantial material for the Dalai Lama story was definitely needed; that this was undoubtedly why the many other publishers who had expressed interest originally had never followed through; and that she saw no point in continuing to offer the book to other publishers, if we couldn't come up with those pages. If only I were an illustrator myself and could realize my own visions in the medium, I would have not only those pages done already but the entire book. That not being the case, I think the lesson that the universe may be giving me to learn now is not to initiate any project that I can't independently see through to completion. I must do what I need to do on my own -- and I must completely minimize my needs, so that I can at least be of some use to the world myself in the time I have left. I will accommodate it and be of service to it however I can. Fortunately, Dennis Janke & Marjorie Strauss, the DC Comics artists who inked and colored Alex's sample pages, are willing to fill in for him and are taking on the task of producing the remaining 77 pages -- if the next 11 that Erica Marcus is asking for help to push it over the top. Mike Zeck, our other mutual friend at DC, will be assisting in some capacity as well. Master as he is of panel art, any assistance he manages to give us will be highly valued and appreciated. And we all hope that Alex will at least remain available for consultation on such matters as Buddhist iconography, where no one of the rest of us feels as knowledgeable as we would like. * The revised edition of Stephen Gaskin's Monday Night Class has not yet found its way to a publisher either. Our editorial work on it has been finished for almost a year now, and our agent Stephany Evans, who had placed it with a great number of publishers, has relinquished it to us as being one she can't do anything more with. She came close with St. Martin's Press, whose enthusiastic editor Jim Fitzgerald, recommended to us by Steve Hager at High Times, wanted to do a back-to-back "classic reprint" of both Monday Night Class and The Caravan, but he couldn't get the approval of his own marketing department, which reflected the opinions of other publishers that it was all "too retro," "too esoteric," "too limited in appeal," and "wouldn't sell enough copies." When even Acid Test Productions in northern California, "out to celebrate the spirit of the '60s," turned down our revised update as being "too dated," Stephany finally bailed out. (Acid Test Productions, incidentally, is another front for the Grateful Dead group head, which had unresolved problems with Stephen and the Farm for years.) Stephany did do a great service for us (and all participants in future home birthings, I would say) by selling Ina May Gaskin's new Spiritual Midwifery: The Next Generation to Simon & Schuster. I think Monday Night Class (as well as its sequel, The Caravan) will be published eventually. It may take more time for the psychedelic culture of the '60s to metamorphose in the cultural consciousness from being a quaint and old-fashioned scene left behind to one that, having acquired the luster of the antique, is rediscovered to be rich in relevance to present-day concerns. Good tripping instructions, whether for psychedelic trips or the trip through life, are always relevant. In the meantime, as a short-term fix and possibly the only way to get it published, I think it would be necessary to re-title the book (nobody but a rapidly depopulating subculture knows what Monday Night Class is or was, and it sounds boring and like a tedious read); and also add a lot more visuals from the San Francisco and northern- California scene in the '60s, not necessarily MNC-related, in order to give it a more general and wide-ranging scope. In other words, I think it needs to be transformed from an updated "classic" eries of talks to a revelation and celebration of the formative years of a unique and beautiful subculture that, in one form or another, still lives and flourishes -- with the present text presented as a running scriptural subtext within an art-and-caption-heavy context. Meanwhile, Stephen has published a new book, Cannabis Spirituality, with High Times Publications, and thinks that if its sales take off after the upcoming promotional tour, Monday Night Class -- the New Edition might sell as a good follow-up. And he may be right. I suspect that question will have to be resolved before any agreement can be made to change the title, much less to radically revise the basic concept, structure and format. * We've had high hopes for The Culture of the Huichol, a proposed book of essays by three PhD anthropologists (Jay Fikes and Philip & Acelia Weigand) and a scholar of art and comparative religion (Juan Negrmn, who has spent the last 25 years working for the preservation of the Huichol culture and ecology), old friends of long standing, dating back to the days when our family livedin Guadalajara. Over the last three decades, they've produced a substantial body of work, both in scholarly research and in the field, on the most prominent of the best preserved and most traditional of meso-American cultures (in Mexico's Sierra Madre Occidental). With its heavy emphasis on the spiritual and visionary art and ceremony of these cultures, the book could conceivably hold some spectacular color inserts; in any case, art and photography in some format, at least partially in black and white, would be included. This extensive collection of material had been offered at first to the Smithsonian Institution as providing the foundation for an extensive meso-American exhibit that might be appropriate for its National Museum of the American Indian. After it was turned down (an upcoming exhibit at a yet to be determined gallery in New York City is now in the works), the same material was passed on to John Michel, the acquisitions editor of social/political/anthropological books at CUPress, and he went for it, with enthusiasm. He's a collector of folk art himself, it turns out, and he would have liked, if he had had his way, to publish the kind of large-format book with color that the material deserves. But it first had to pass a "peer review" by three reputable scholars in the field (common practice with an academic press); then pass approval by the publisher; by an acquisitions committee; a marketing committee; and finally a publications committee composed of members of the board of trustees. Unfortunately, but all too typically, John Michel took it first to the Columbia University Press marketing committee, and they (i.e., the head of the department) turned it down with the comment, "Latin American stuff doesn't sell." I thought that was one of the more obtuse things I ever heard to rationalize a rejection, and let that opinion be known probably more than I should have, since I also work there -- but I couldn't help it. It was a resounding confirmation of what I've been hearing for some time now, about how the entire publishing industry is now so profit-driven (even nonprofit academic presses, struggling to break even) that it's directed primarily by its marketing departments -- for whom the editors are now loyal assistants ("product managers"), and from whom approval must be obtained, or any project must be assumed to be dead in the water. John Michel suggested we try the Universities of Texas, New Mexico or Arizona, who are more inclined to handle "Latin American stuff," but for the most part he lost my respect for his editorial counsel, having caved in immediately and most obsequiously to the marketing department's offhand assessment (he didn't even show it to them). But then, how can he be blamed, when the truly independent editors have either resigned or been fired, and those who have been retained know their place and the limits of their power, and hang on to their jobs by not making waves? * Without promise, without hope, life wouldn't be worth living. But, so far, even in the face of consistent rejection over the last few years, there has been no shortage of new and hopeful engagements to turn to, and new sources of encouragement and support. My agent Sara Jane told me in my last conversation with her that she had just last year sold a beautiful full-color book on the Lacandon subculture of the Maya Indians to one of New York's major art-book publishers (Abrams, I think), with an accompanying first-person account of efforts to preserve its culture and environment. When I told her about Juan Negrmn and his 25-year effort to help the Huichol culture attain greater self- sufficiency, defend its traditions and protect its environment, she said she would be very interested in seeing what we could come up with that had to do with that endangered culture as well. So now I'm putting together a new proposal for that one. Saludos, amigos. Wm E-mail addresses: wmmeyers@tuna.net (home -- nights, weekends) wm64@columbia.edu (work -- weekdays) Website URL: http://www.spring.com/~wmmeyers

Latest from William: 3 February 1998 This is to let you know that Christine is in the middle of her eight-month trip through southeast Asia, and, after a month in India, is currently trekking in Nepal, with a home base in Kathmandu. She can be contacted there during the first two weeks of February and, wherever she may be on this trip (Thailand and Vietnam are next), by phone and e-mail: Telephone: 1-800-864-8000 206-548-0061# press 1 leave message E-mail: cmeyers38@hotmail.com Mail: c/o Heather Harder 502 South Fremont Avenue, Apt. 622 Tampa, FL 33606 Christine's friend Heather will be leaving on the 24th of this month to rendezvous with her in Bangkok. She will be bringing her any mail we send her. Christine sends her love to everybody and says she looks forward to getting back in August and visiting with us all soon after that. Love to all William

Something recent by William, who I haven't heard from for a while: http://www.newstrolls.com/news/dev/wmeyers/index.html "This has been a century of war. Ever since the Great War delivered a traumatic blow to civilization�s sense of permanence and security, the world has endured an unending scourge of increasingly genocidal wars. With the exponential growth of world population and the inevitable conflicts among self-serving and expansive nations, the triumph of militarism as the primary means of conflict resolution has been all but assured. Add a blind dedication to perpetual economic growth, and the result for all of us has been the devastation of life, habitat, and cultural heritage on a formerly unimaginable scale. Many of us have grown used to the enormities and pay little heed to the less than awesomely devastating while whole peoples and cultures�not to mention species and ecosystems�are systematically destroyed. Yet some cultures and systems of belief have evolved to a degree of such beauty and complexity�and what sometimes seems to be a level of enlightened wisdom�that we can�t help but take notice of their fragility, and feel moved to take some action to save them, because their destruction is simply too painful to watch."

We do then to overlook these momentous shifts in species and plant life in the morass of sensationalism on the news.

William, come out of the woodwork!

William Meyers has surfaced! I got an email from him while on the road. William's thriving at Columbia University and just had a great time down in the St. John Islands in the Carribean. He's working on a new web site but it's under wraps for now. His new girlfriend is attractive and brainy, seeming to be quite his equal (or maybe even better half) though I haven't met her yet. I'm glad William has emerged from seclusion and depression. He seems alive again and full of incisive and sometimes biting comments that cut through all the trivia and hit at hard truths. He's beginning to look like the new and improved revised version of the William of old.

William Meyers A Brief Biography The Fifties Born and raised in Chattanooga, Tennessee, son of a war veteran, he grew up in the post-war prosperity, attending the well-funded schools of the day, and graduating from high school in 1960 as a "National Merit Scholar." The Sixties A scholarship to Columbia University led to his move to New York City, where he spent his four years of college, graduating "Summa Cum Laude" with a B.A. in English Literature in 1964. (For more information about his subsequent education, please go to: Resume). After a long trip through Europe, he returned to New York and worked for a year and a half as an assistant editor for a book publisher. A freelance writing assignment in Washington, D.C., led finally to a move to San Francisco, where he began to write and publish stories. The Seventies He turned his attention to editing the books of a spiritual teacher with a large following. The woman with whom he was living also became an active member of this following, and helped to fund the publication of its books. They soon married and had a child. When they went on to found an experimental collective community in the farmland of Tennessee, she helped to fund the purchase of printing equipment and the construction of a publishing house, where he worked as an editor and learned the fundamentals of graphic production. The Eighties After they left the farm -- now with three children -- and returned to California, his wife pursued her pre-med studies while he returned to work for various graphic-production houses in San Francisco. At the same time he attended night classes at the City College of San Francisco, taking specialized courses in typography, lithography, and printmaking. During the three years that his wife lived with their three children in Guadalajara, attending medical school, he went back and forth, importing the visionary art of an indigenous culture in Mexico for sale in California. He returned ever more frequently to work in California, finally managing a type & design shop in Marin County, north of San Francisco. The Nineties An internship for his wife at a hospital in Connecticut, and the establishment of her practice there later as a doctor, led to the reunion of their family in Connecticut and to his working again in New York City, where he was able to return to writing for magazines and editing books. He also returned to working in graphic production, in order to keep up with the revolutionary changes taking place in the printing industry -- now radically changed by the explosion of digital technology. As desktop publisher for Columbia University Press, he acquired the skills for working in both print and electronic media.

From: William Meyers To: tincanman99@aol.com, paul@spring.net, melvyn@freewwweb.com, mmc@well.com, moon93@aol.com, pgribbin@megs.inet.net, malysaght@aol.com, dfrohman@aol.com Subject: a subway ride Postapocalyptic Meditations 23 September 2001 Thursday morning of last week I was taking the subway to work as usual, about nine in the morning, down from Morningside Heights to our office on 62nd Street, across from Lincoln Center. The train was packed full of people, as it always is in the morning rush hour, and I found a nook in which to tuck myself, next to the motorman's small compartment, at thefront of the train. There was enough space around me there to hold up my copy of the day's newspaper and read the first paragraphs of the stories on the front page, but only by keeping the paper folded in half. BUSH ORDERS HEAVY BOMBERS NEAR AFGHANS; DEMANDS BIN LADEN NOW, NOT NEGOTIATIONS That was the headline on the Late Edition of Thursday's Times. At the 96th Street station, where the local train shares the platform with the express and much movement of people from one train to the other goes on, a moment of panic suddenly struck. Shouts of alarm, screams of terror grabbed everyone's attention in the car where I was still standing. Outside the window people were running past the front of the train and toward the 94th Street exit. Inside the car people were yelling, "What's happening? What's going on?" Outside on the platform, they were too busy trying to get away to hear anything but their own terrified voices. It occurred to me that at that moment, or any succeeding one, a blinding white flash and explosion could instantly obliterate me and everyone around me. I waited for that to happen, as one moment succeeded the next. The crush of beings outside the train kept struggling for the exit. Then the door of the motorman's compartment opened, and the motorman -- tall and commanding, studded with communications gear -- emerged to assess the scene. I was thinking, "Just keep moving, man!" But I couldn't utter a word. He spoke something into his intercom about how there was "an altercation" on the platform that needed to be investigated. Then he got back into his compartment and shut the door. I prayed that that would be the end of it and the doors of the train would close. The doors closed, and the train moved out. The south end of the platform slipped by, and the lights of the station fell behind us, overtaken by the darkness of the tunnel. People looked at each other in fear and relief. At some point before we reached the next station, 86th Street -- a local stop -- I realized how much adrenalin had been pumping through my body. Slumping against the door of the motorman's compartment, I closed my eyes and waited for the enormous rush of energy to pass. By the time we reached 66th Street, where I exited the subway, I was thinking that the story of whatever had happened back there would be emerging in the media soon and that I should be on the lookout and looking closely for it. The person in the token booth at 66th Street had no idea what had happened back up the line. It was still too early, I thought. What could have happened? What did "altercation" mean? Had a fistfight broken out? Had it been "to the death"? Did one or both of the fighters look Arabic? Had one of them pulled a gun, or a bomb, or a flask of anthrax? Nothing was reported later in the media. At least nothing came within range of my own sensors. Apparently it had been just another routine incident -- one of all too many that have been occurring in our lives here for the last couple of weeks. I think it would be safe to say that the stressload in Manhattan has been reaching a maximum tolerance level. But it's the new reality. -- Wm

Just got some printed stuff from William. But it's print!

His website is still at http://spring.net/wmmeyers/ but it's sorely in need of an update.