Chatting to an old mate the other day, he informed me that old copies of Suburban Press are fetching as much as a hundred quid. He went on to tell me that he was approached by a dealer at the recent 1968 And All That book-fair regarding selling his own collection of old radical pamphlets. "I'd rather burn them", was the response, "we were about destroying the market, not feeding it". Nice one mate.
I have managed to hang on to a few bits and pieces from the past myself including a couple of prized copies of the late George Foulser's esteemed organ,"The East London Speed Freak". George was an anarchist militant of the old school, hated almost as much by the National Union of Seamen as he was by the shipowners. I don't know what George would have made of these yellowed duplicated pages being collectors items but I doubt that he would have had much compunction about taking the money. He died without a pot to piss in.
Years ago I sailed with another old shellback who when he had a few pints of Guinness would always reminisce about two major incidents from his past. One was his fighting in the International Brigade at the defence of Madrid and the other concerned him working in Jack Sherrie's corner when the great shooter wrestled Man Mountain Dean. Spending my formative years around blokes like this...Well,it explains a lot I suppose.
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