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August 7, 2010 Lee Lockwood Dies at 78; Captured Life Under Communism By MARGALIT FOX Lee Lockwood, an American photojournalist who had rare opportunities to capture political, military and civilian life in Communist countries — documenting the treatment of an American prisoner of war in North Vietnam and persuading Fidel Castro to sit for a long, discursive, smoke-filled and highly personal interview — died on July 31 in Tamarac, Fla. He was 78 and lived in Weston, Fla. The cause was complications of diabetes, his sister, Susan Lewinnek, said. As his work through the decades made clear, Mr. Lockwood regarded photojournalism as a potent instrument for social change. A freelance photographer, he was associated for many years with the Black Star agency, which furnished his images to newspapers and magazines around the globe. He also wrote several books, including “Castro’s Cuba, Cuba’s Fidel: An American Journalist’s Inside Look at Today’s Cuba in Text and Picture” (Macmillan, 1967). In 1967, at the height of the Vietnam War, Mr. Lockwood was the first outside photographer in more than a decade to be allowed into North Vietnam. (Not long before, while in Havana to research his Castro book, he had prudently obtained a North Vietnamese visa there.) The fruit of Mr. Lockwood’s 28-day visit, a long, heavily illustrated essay titled “North Vietnam Under Siege,” was published as the cover article of the April 7, 1967, edition of Life magazine. Though Mr. Lockwood’s trip to North Vietnam was carefully controlled — he was forbidden to photograph military installations and had a government official with him at all times — he managed to traverse 1,000 miles in the month he spent there. In words and photos, Mr. Lockwood portrayed the life of a country then under heavy bombardment by United States forces: bare, ruined villages; deserted factories; a boy with a missing leg, lost to a bomb. There were also calmer, quieter images of farmers, flower sellers and hemp dyers plying their trades. His most striking encounter, in Hanoi, was with Lt. Cmdr. Richard A. Stratton, an American Navy pilot who had been captured in January 1967. As Mr. Lockwood and other foreign newsmen listened, a man identifying himself as Commander Stratton read over a loudspeaker a long “confession” attacking United States involvement in the region. Then, from behind a curtain, Commander Stratton appeared, looking, Mr. Lockwood wrote, “like a puppet.” “His eyes were empty,” Mr. Lockwood wrote. “He stood stiffly at attention while movie lights were turned on and photographers took pictures. His expression never changed.” Accompanying Mr. Lockwood’s account was his photograph of Commander Stratton, clad in prison pajamas, making a deep, supplicating bow on orders from a North Vietnamese officer. The image, which occupied a full page of the Life article, was widely reproduced. Partly in response to Mr. Lockwood’s article, the State Department accused North Vietnam of brainwashing American prisoners to elicit antiwar statements from them. In an interview with The New York Times in 2008, Commander Stratton, who had been released in 1973, suggested that such statements were less the product of brainwashing than of common sense. “You are being tortured and all you have to do to get them to stop is say the same thing that Bobby Kennedy is saying,” Commander Stratton said. Lee Jonathan Lockwood was born in New York City on May 4, 1932, and took up photography as a boy. He earned a bachelor’s degree in comparative literature from Boston University in 1954 and later did graduate work in the field at Columbia. In the mid-1950s, he served with the Army, stationed in Munich. Besides his sister, Ms. Lewinnek, Mr. Lockwood is survived by his wife, the former Joyce Greenfield, whom he married in 1964; a brother, Roger; two children, Andrew Lockwood and Gillian Rubin; and six grandchildren. His other books include “Conversation With Eldridge Cleaver: Algiers” (McGraw-Hill, 1970) and “Daniel Berrigan: Absurd Convictions, Modest Hopes — Conversations After Prison With Lee Lockwood” (Random House, 1972). Mr. Lockwood’s best-known book was the one born of his marathon interview with Mr. Castro, which unspooled over a full week in Cuba in 1965. The discourse ranged over Marxism, the Cuban missile crisis, American race relations, sex, prostitution and much else. It was vital, Mr. Lockwood believed, that American readers be given a full portrait of a man known here as a cipher at best, a demon at worst. “We don’t like Castro, so we close our eyes and hold our ears,” he wrote in the book’s introduction. “Yet if he is really our enemy, as dangerous to us as we are told he is, then we ought to know as much about him as possible.” ---- August 7, 2010 Fritz Teufel, a German Protester in the ’60s, Dies at 67 By WILLIAM GRIMES “The monthlong trial here of Fritz Teufel, a 24-year-old German student, on a felony charge of ‘grave sedition’ may become only a footnote when the histories of contemporary Europe are written,” a correspondent of The New York Times wrote in 1967 from West Berlin. “Yet the widely publicized case has become a symbol for the ‘seditious’ fringe among modern European youth, and beyond that, of the stirrings of an entire restive generation.” Mr. Teufel, who was eventually acquitted of the charges that he had led a riotous demonstration against the visiting shah of Iran and threw a rock at a policeman, died July 6 in Berlin. He was 67 and had been ill with Parkinson’s disease. The ferment of the 1960s brought Mr. Teufel, a skinny, red-bearded figure with wire-rimmed glasses, bobbing to the surface of tumultuous events. Though he later fell in with a violent revolutionary group and was arrested and imprisoned, he started out as a prankster or, to use his term, a “fun guerrilla,” whose provocations — he once planned to ambush Hubert H. Humphrey with cake-mix “bombs” — made him West Germany’s answer to Abbie Hoffman. To leaven the moral intensity of his fellow leftists, he offered a theatrical vision of politics. The visit of the shah, he told reporters, was “low comedy,” in which “the public is justified in throwing eggs and tomatoes if the performance does not satisfy them.” Mr. Teufel was born June 17, 1943, in the town of Ingelheim, the youngest of six children, and grew up in Ludwigsburg. In 1963 he moved to Berlin to attend the Free University of Berlin, where he studied German literature, journalism and theater. Mr. Teufel became a founder of Kommune 1, a notorious squat on Stuttgarter Platz often referred to as the Horror Commune. Its members, influenced equally by Maoism and psychoanalysis, rejected such bourgeois norms as personal privacy — the bathrooms had no doors — and devoted themselves to organizing political protests and stunts. Like many of the younger German generation, they were in revolt against their parents, whom they regarded as having been either complicit or supine during the Nazi years, and the West German state, which they regarded as sneakily repressive. “We really felt obliged to correct the historical, political development of a Nazi-tainted Federal Republic,” Mr. Teufel once told an interviewer. It was at Kommune 1 that Mr. Teufel planned the April 1967 ambush on Mr. Humphrey, then vice president, who was making a state visit to West Germany. Armed with “bombs” made of plastic bags filled with yogurt, flour and pudding, he and 10 comrades were arrested in what the press dubbed the Pudding Assassination. Mr. Teufel became a semicelebrity, helped in no small part by his last name, which means “devil” in German. When his comrades, perhaps out of jealousy at his growing reputation, expelled him from Kommune 1, Mr. Teufel moved to Munich, where he joined a radical commune and drifted into the orbit of the Red Army Faction. Dedicated to the violent overthrow of the government, the group carried out assassinations, bombings and kidnappings. In the early 1970s he spent two years in prison on charges that he had tried to firebomb a courthouse in Munich. In 1975, Mr. Teufel was arrested and charged with being a leader of the June 2 Movement, which had kidnapped Peter Lorenz, a local leader of the Christian Democratic Union. He was carrying a pistol at the time. Mr. Teufel spent five years in prison awaiting trial, only to present a watertight alibi in court: when the kidnapping took place he was working under a false name in an Essen factory that made toilet seats. He said that he had kept silent to expose the arbitrary nature of West German justice. Nonetheless, he was convicted of robbery, firearms offenses and membership in a criminal organization and sentenced to five years in prison, moot at that point. By this time, Mr. Teufel had rejected radical politics, although he retained a taste for provocation. While taking part in a political discussion on television in 1982, he took out a squirt gun and sprayed the West German finance minister — who responded by throwing a glass of wine in Mr. Teufel’s face. In 1984, Mr. Teufel moved to London and worked in a cooperative bakery but soon returned to West Berlin, where he wrote freelance articles for the alternative newspaper Die Tageszeitung and was a bicycle messenger until Parkinson’s disease put him on the sidelines. In his later years, he granted interviews to curious journalists on the condition that they play table tennis with him for an hour. He is survived by his partner, Helene Lollo. “We were young, carefree and inexperienced,” Mr. Teufel told Die Tagesspiel in an interview he gave not long before his death. “In 1967 and 1968, confidence and cheerfulness prevailed, and an unbelievable sense that a new beginning was under way.” ________________________________________________ Send list submissions to: Marxism@lists.econ.utah.edu Set your options at: http://lists.econ.utah.edu/mailman/options/marxism/archive%40mail-archive.com
