Maybe it was his eyes. They certainly were wild. It was as if he were living in a dream and trying to wake up. But the voice was kind. Want to buy a song? For a dime or a quarter he's give you a live performance. For those that did, it was either "Merry Go Round" or "Linda and Laurie."
He was a character found along the streets of LA and in 1968 most often on the UCLA campus. He'd join the throng on their way to a class along this sprawling campus and peddle his songs. His hair was curly long and contributed to the name he acquired, Wildman Fischer.
In the Spring of 1968, that most decisive and formative year, I was a Junior at UCLA. Seeing Wildman Fisher was a daily occurrence. I may have even given him a dime or quarter. I had just submitted some poetry to a professor who selected 10 students for a seminar. When I was selected to join that elite group, I fancied myself a poet even more. With this new confidence, I submitted some poems to a call for poetry by a group claiming to produce that year's UCLA literary magazine. I got a brief letter saying they would like to use a couple of my poems. Back in 1968 there was no email, texting, or cell phone calling so the US Postal service was the way we most often.communicated. The letter asked if I'd like to become the magazine's poetry editor! That should have told me something. The following week I met a trio of fellow students who were the magazine staff. They had some innovative ideas, so I decided to work with them. All I really had to do was rad through the submissions and decide which poems were worthy of publication. They would do the rest. From what I could tell my colleagues were both Art and English majors. Their vision was to create a magazine that came in a small box. About a foot square, it would be called Laminas and consist of layers of text, art, music, and anything other aesthetic quality they could fit in the box. Laminas because it would be consumed in layers. How Cool, I thought.
I received a copy of the magazine when it was first published, and in all fairness, I'd say it looked great. A bright yellow box (maybe UCLA gold?) with sharp black lettering. Most of the literature and art inside the box was black on yellow. Some Haiku poetry (including mine) was printed on rice paper with blue and orange notes. And then, amid the layers was a record. A 7 inch 33 1/3 rpm piece of vinyl with some recordings best deemed classical, and then on each side one original Wildman Fischer song. Of course, the two selections were "Merrygoround" and "Linda and Laurie."
As the 1960s yielded to the 1970s, a funny thing happened to Wildman Fischer. Frank Zappa heard his original music and decided to help him advance his career. From what I can find, he signed Larry Fischer to a recording contract and a couple of albums followed. I read somewhere that Mr. Fischer joined Zappa onstage in a few concerts, including one at the Rose Bowl in Southern California. By the 1980s, the music industry and the consumer's tastes were changing, and by the mid 90s, Zappa was gone and the technology shift had changed everything. Wildman Fischer died in 2008, and became a footnote with diminishing interest. So, here I am, all these years later, the proud owner of the 1968 record with Larry Fischer's original music. I left UCLA and California by the end of 1969 and my original copy of Laminas 1, the revolutionary magazine in a box went with me. Over the years I used some of the artwork in my classroom, and some of the graphics were good additions to some of the curriculum I wrote. I rarely played the 7 inch record. Then when CDs came in, and then online music alternatives, my records sat in boxes stored in a few of the closets and garages I shared over the years.
So here we are 50+ years later and the little recording from the UCLA literary magazine is a rare find. On Discogs it has sold for upwards of $150. One collector even paid 350 for it. I plan to sell it to a collector in my neighborhood who runs a small used record business. He likes being able to own something that very few people have or can get. If he doesn't want it, perhaps you know someone who does. Use the contact info on this blog and shoot me an email. Wildman Fischer left his mark. It's a bright yellow label with dark black lettering and a voice you won't soon forget.
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