Michael Simmons: Van Dyke Parks Keeps On Cyclin'
Huffington Post - almost 4 years
In 1967-68 I was office boy at a short-lived magazine that my father published called Cheetah. Of Bar Mitzvah age, I considered myself a man, one who had thoroughly absorbed all tributaries of what is now called the counterculture, especially its music simply called ROCK, having dispensed with its appendage of "...and roll." In the wake of the Beatles' Sgt. Pepper and Bob Dylan, rock music was Gabriel's electric horn for me and my young hirsute comrades, heralding the emergence of the holy in all God's chillun, and love and peace and general groovyosity. Cheetah had a two-fold mandate: 1) to present a well-writ and designed, slick-papered mag for hippies and 2) to turn a profit. It usually succeeded in the former, but completely failed at the latter.
Before its demise, some of the best journalistic minds of the '60s generation contributed to Cheetah, including Paul Krassner, Ed Sanders, Doon Arbus, Richard Goldstein, Robert Christgau, Ellen Willis - even Tom Wolfe. Original
Huffington Post article