SMYAL that would reinforce theirnconfusion.nAt Annandale High the main argumentnwas between the paper’s editor,nMargie Brown, who represented thenmajority of staff members, and MattnMcGuire, who represented himselfnand one other student. In opposing thenad, Mr. McGuire wondered “what sortnof position do we [the school andnnewspaper] want to have in the community,”nnoting: “The idea of beingnassociated with gays and lesbians — itnbothers me.” “I think we should putn[the ad] in,” Miss Brown opined at thentime. “If we’re told whose money tonaccept, then that’s censorship.”nMiss Brown’s remarks are pregnantnwith all sorts of political and culturalnassumptions about the nature of ournConstitution, our legal system, andnmorals and values themselves. The firstnis that homosexuals have some sort ofn”right” to publish propaganda in anpublic school newspaper and that thennewspaper itself has a “right,” even annobligation, to publish any advertisementncoming down the pike.nWe can also gather that Miss Brownnthinks some sort of politically objectionablenbowdlerism is motivating thenMcGuires of this world, “censorship”nbeing a moral crime comparable tonmurder and robbery. Apparently, MissnBrown doesn’t care about SMYAL’sninvitation to reinforce behavior that notnonly violates sodomy laws, but alsoncore American values. Miss Brown’snside, the one favoring homosexual recruitment,nwon in a landslide vote ofnthe staff members: 19 for the ad, 2nagainst.nThe question is why school kids likenMiss Brown think defending heterosexualitynand the traditional Americannfamily has become what some arenFor Immediate ServicenChroniclesnSUBSCRIBERSnTOLL FREE NUIMBERn1-800-435-0715nILLINOIS RESIDENTSn1-800-892-0753n8/CHRONICLESncalling a “hate crime.”nFairfax County’s public school sexednprogram was once scheduled toninclude a lesson on “autoerotic asphyxia.”nThus does Fairfax County offernmore than one instance of morallynconfused administrators and studentsnrun amok. It is a cardinal example ofnthe danger of turning junior’s educationnover to the state.n— R. Cort KirkwoodnTHE YALE LIT. has returned, butnnot in the form that some Chroniclesnreaders may remember from the earlyn80’s, when Andrei Navrozov was editor.nThe undergraduate magazine (est.n1836) he turned into a national quar-n• terly of arts, letters, and politics finishednits run through the courts inn1986 and has now returned to thenhands of Yale undergraduates.nFor most of its 150-year history ThenYale Literary Magazine was an independent,nprivately funded magazinenedited by and for Yale undergrads.nWhen in 1978 it seemed to be goingnunder for a final time, due to lack ofnstudent interest and lack of funds, Yalensenior Navrozov and some fellow studentsnbought it for the token sum ofnone dollar. At that point they had thenuniversity’s blessing. But when the magazinenthey produced proved to havenboth metered poetry and funding fromnsome conservative foundations, thisnwas too much for the Yale Englishndepartment. They were hearing heresynfrom what they felt to be their ownnpulpit.nJohn Hollander, John Hersey andnthe like, with the help of then YalenPresident A. Bartlett Giamatti, decidednto put the magazine out of business.nTheir strategy was to vilify the magazine’sneditors and to change the rulesnthat defined Navrozov’s legal relationshipnto the university. Once the matternwent to court Yale’s deep pockets werenpaired against the fundraising/PR machinenof one Russion emigre and hisnAmerican wife. The case went to thenConnecticut Supreme Court, but henwho has the more expensive lawyersnwill always win. Yale did its best to focusnthe debate on the deprived undergraduates,nbut the core issue was alwaysncensorship, as some early-on, unguardedncomments by people like ProfessornHollander show. At Yale “academicnfreedorri” is a real oxymoron.nnnAll that is ancient history, and it hasnbeen over six years since I spent part ofnmy senior year testifying not only asnone of the Lit.’s student editors but asnthe corporate publisher’s third officer.nMost people insisted students didn’tnexist at the Lit., or were only shills fornNavrozov. But I learned the basics ofnediting and copyediting there, andnabout hot type and four-color printing,nand the only time I had any luckngetting a piece out of Annie Dillardnwas when I was 19 and at the Lit.,nthough I’ve been trying ever since.nI remember thinking, my first weeknat Yale, that I could do anything Inwanted, and that what I wanted to donwas work on a magazine. But I alsonremember thinking that I’ll be hangednif I’m going to waste my time writingnfor some newsprint horror with purposefullynugly charcoal drawings andnpoetry that goes like this: “peepholesnget bolted to the eyes / throttled withnan archipelago of squats / drizzlingnhosiery about the floor / the trumpetsntrumpets of strumpets / finger thenclotted lips / oh crank out an overturenon that organ grinder / would you / willnnot faint I will not faint I will not . . .”nI ended up working with AndreinNavrozov and his wife, Kathleen Kilpatrick,nbecause they were serious: theynwere putting out a magazine for adults,nrunning poetry and essays by the likesnof Philip Larkin and E.M. Cioran andnLewis Lapham, reproducing art bynFerdinand Botero and Tamara denLempicka. What the Lit. is publishingnnow is that poem above. The back covernof the winter 1989 issue shows anyoung man in a hospital bed, with hisnhalf-shaved head banded by some steelncontraption; evidently he is recoveringnfrom brain surgery. It is the exploitationnof disease masquerading as art a lanDiana Arbus; it is the great fin de sieclenYale undergraduate aesthetic, and itnstinks.nYale fought us bitterly to win backnthe Lit. “in trust for the students,”nand the students now editing the Lit.nare repaying this trust in full. BecausenNavrozov’s terrible crime was to “ignore”nYale undergrads, it is importantnto Andrew Cohen, Yale ’91 and thenpresent publisher, to emphasize thatnhis editorial board is independent ofnany adult. But his first issue featured anninterview with French Professor DenisnHollier (“How did you become inter-n