“Teen Talk by Susan” was a popular column by Susan Szekely Edmiston in the mid-1960s. It provided a female view of rock music during its formative period as it began to be recognized as art music.
Introduction
Susan Szekely (later, Susan Edmiston) used her “Teen Talk by Susan” column to engage adolescent readers in the vibrant rock scene of the mid-1960s. In doing so, she bridged the era of 1950s teen columns and 1960s rock criticism. Szekely offered a female perspective on rock music, a rarity then.
Writing for the New York Post in its pre-tabloid days, Szekely covered the city’s emergent psychedelic rock scene. These writings brought alive a critical time and place in popular music history and pioneered New Journalism techniques in music writing. Perhaps most importantly, these writings reminded young female readers that they were part of the scene, too.
Non-Conformist
Szekely experienced a golden age at the New York Post. She belonged to a circle of young Post writers, including Nora Ephron, who became an acclaimed filmmaker, and Jerry Talmer, who became the theater critic for the Village Voice. The group lunched at a “greasy spoon in the Post lobby,” and “complained over grilled cheese sandwiches and Cokes,” according to journalist Gerald Nachman.[1]
But before Szekely worked at the Post, the Bryn Mawr graduate worked as a feature writer and reporter for the Tucson Daily Citizen. She began in 1961, writing features for the “Woman’s View” section of the paper. It was common then for women journalists to write for a newspaper’s women’s page. These sections nurtured talented women writers and provided important community information.
They also became a forum for social issues of the time. For instance, Szekely wrote an article on the dangers of excessive conformity in society, using quotes from a panel discussion on the topic:
“The ideas that are of importance and produce change always come from the non-conformists. Therefore, we can never disregard an idea simply on the basis of its nonconformity.”
“Conformity … is dedication to the status quo. History shows that rigid conformity leads a society to self-destruction.”
“When a society reveres conformity, people with different ideas and viewpoints become afraid to step out … conformity becomes a real hazard.”
“Our society is in danger of becoming paranoid in its emphasis on conformity to the extent of denying freedom of speech. … [Society] must extend the limits of what is considered normal and acceptable in order to release the spirit of creativity.”[2]
The quotes Szekely chose show her opposition to conformity. A trait that would distinguish her writing.
Cooly Refreshing
Thus, Szekely started her career in an underappreciated but essential medium for critical writing – the newspaper women’s page. A decade before, it was in these sections that another underrecognized medium was born – the teen column. Some of these features concentrated on teen music and became a journalistic species apart from the pop music features in newspaper entertainment sections. Postwar columns like “Jukebox” by Marjorie McCabe contained sharp commentary on music and a sprinkling of teen advice tips. These columns were typically written by women for adolescent girl readers.
Such was the case of “Teen Talk,” which Szekely launched at the New York Post in 1964. Moving to New York was a big jump geographically and journalistically from the Tucson Daily Citizen.
Post publisher Dorothy Schiff graduated from Bryn Mawr like Szekely and was the first female newspaper publisher in New York. A liberal, Schiff supported the labor movement and welfare programs.
After running “Teen Talk” for two years, mainly as an advice column, the Post decided to syndicate it. In the summer of 1966, announcements like this appeared in newspapers from Orlando to Ontario:
For Teenagers Only!
Meet Susan
She writes exclusively
for teens, in a cooly refreshing way that
makes you want to laugh
… and learn too!
Read Teen Talk by Susan
Starting
Wednesday,
July 27 [1966][3]
Teenagers will read Teen Talk because it doesn’t put them down. Susan, just barely out of her teen years, is one of them. She thinks the following are “boss”: Bob Dylan, Mod fashions, surfing, David McCallum, the Boston Monkey, the La Rue, and the Philly Jerk.
This Column Rejects the Problem Theory
An announcement in another paper said Szekely,
… lives alone in a New York apartment furnished with antiques, which she picked up around the state and refinished herself.
In her free time, she goes to plays and movies, covers the entire range of teenage entertainment, sports, and recreational activities, often accompanied by one of her three teenage sisters. She listens, she talks, she takes notes …[4]
Szekely underscored this message in her first syndicated column, published in July 1966:
Teen Talk is not a propaganda machine. It will not try to indoctrinate you into the adult establishment ways of looking at things or codes of behavior. Its purpose is to inform, entertain, and discuss the subjects you’re concerned about. It will try to cover the true spectrum of teenage interests, which ranges far wider than just manners or music or clothes.[5] Often, teenagers have been thought of in terms of problems. Either they were considered problems themselves, or they were thought to have a lot of problems. …
This column rejects the problem theory. It accepts the view that teenagers have vitality of mind as well as body, and that they are original, not having been shoved into total conformity yet, and that they are warm and open, not having become encrusted with the barnacles of defense mechanisms yet.[6]
Many Kinds of Teenagers
Szekely pledged to “discuss controversial topics like drugs, sex, and politics.”[7] But above all, Szekely beseeched readers to participate in the column:
Write, write, write, write. Write and tell me if the teenagers in your town are doing anything the rest of the country should know about.
Write if you have a strong opinion on something of concern to teenagers. Write if there is something you want information about. Write if you have a problem.
Write if you have a strong wrong. Through Teen Talk, you can be heard across the land.[8]
In this emboldening introduction, Szekely lets readers know she’s aware that they’re interested in more than trends, that she doesn’t buy into such stereotypes about teenagers. She wrote, “There are as many kinds of teenagers as there are people.”[9]
Hullaballoo: Where the Action Is
In some newspapers, “Teen Talk” was part of a new type of newspaper section dedicated to sixties youth culture.
For example, in the Capital Journal, “Teen Talk” was part of a section called “Where the Action Is: A Weekly Report for Young People.” Undoubtedly named after the ABC television show of the same name hosted by Dick Clark, the two-page section included articles about rock artists, DJ reports, and other features of interest to young people.
For young readers at the journal and elsewhere, Szekely wrote lively columns on various topics throughout the summer and fall of 1966. In the grand tradition of teen columns, she sprinkled in advice on issues such as being comfortable as a slob. But music became more prominent.
A topic in which Szekely took a particular interest was music venues. This may be seen in her column about a New York club, the Hullabaloo Scene. The club was part of a chain franchised by the television series of the same name, broadcast by NBC from 1965 to 1966. Szekely described the space:
The Scene is a barn-like structure, actually an ex-automobile showroom … converted into a teenage nightclub. The decoration is minimal; the name of the club, Hullabaloo, appears in a pyramid design several times on the purple-painted walls. Yellow light bulbs blink over the bandstand, and there are a few tables and chairs that have been appropriated by teenagers who stand on them to survey the crowd …
Next, Szekely gave a brief but vivid description of the band.
The Hullaballoo Philosophy
Tonight is the most humid night of the year. The members of the band The Windjammers, who blast out sounds in a driving Rolling Stones-Isley Brothers-James Brown-influenced style, are soaked to the skin. The organist’s sneakers go squish. There’s a puddle of perspiration behind the organ.
For $15,000 plus 10% of the gross, the concessionaire gets help in selecting the site and a band, use of the Hullabaloo name, advice on the installation of a sound system, interior decorating, and “training in the execution of the Hullabaloo philosophy.”
The concessionaire is taught all about the “musical wants of youngsters, how to win the kids, how to spot trouble in the making, and what teenagers today are wearing,” in case he hasn’t noticed lately.
From the kids’ point of view, Hullabaloo clubs are great. Despite all the concern that’s always been voiced over today’s youth in many parts of the country, there is just “no place to go.” For a reasonable price, Hullabaloo clubs provide safe, happy, friendly places for kids to go, have a good time, and meet one another.[10]
This fun column provided fascinating insights into an in-between period in sixties youth culture, when a new generation of teens prepared to transition to the adult clubbing world.
Insignificant Creatures
On August 23, 1966, the Beatles performed at Shea Stadium in New York City, and Susan Szekely attended. Her narrative captured the sensory overload of mid-1960s rock concerts by rock idols.
Szekely described the scene as though looking at the band through a microscope:
When they finally came out, the screaming reached fever pitch. The four tiny, pale-suited boys looked like insignificant creatures wriggling against a vast expanse of green when viewed with an objective eye. Of course, there was hardly an objective eye in the audience.
Magnified by emotion, the Beatles took up half the field. Flashbulbs popped off in the crowd like the twinkling lights on a Christmas tree and continued in their crazy, random pattern throughout the entire performance.[11]
The incredible thing about the Beatles is that they deserve it. Creators of popular music of new excellence, they have managed to communicate rare wit, humor, honesty, and an irresistible degree of personal charm.[12]
The Beatles had just released Revolver, a disc that forever changed popular music. Szekely praised several cuts.
“Eleanor Rigby,” she wrote, used “original poetic terms and a haunting melody to describe loneliness.”[13] On the other hand, “Yellow Submarine” was “so catchy that a few days after its release, groups of people were singing it as they walked through the streets.”[14] And “Here, There and Everywhere” was “so stunningly beautiful that any girl would want it sung to her.”[15]
It’s hard to imagine a male rock critic of that time writing that line. Szekely provided a female perspective sorely missing in mid-sixties rock writing.
Old Folks in their 20s
The Beatles’ inventiveness amazed Szekely:
Their experimentation and excellence have been a major force in making rock’n’roll as creative as it is today. With the possible exception of Dylan, they’re the most musically original and interesting performers we have.[16]
In an intriguing part of the column, Szekely gave a genderized reading of the concert audience. She responded to how some Beatles commentators saw a lessening intensity by fans at the band’s shows on the 1966 tour. These writers saw this as a sign that the band was losing its popularity. Szekely had a different take:
My theory is that the nature of the audience has changed. Many of the people at the New York concert were boys, and many were old folks in their 20s or so who don’t scream so much. Some of the audience at least seemed to be trying to listen. When Paul McCartney sang the favorite “Yesterday,” it was almost quiet.[17]
What Szekely experienced was a turning point in rock concerts as the music became more complex and attracted a more diverse audience.
Acid
Even as her music coverage increased, Szekely continued to cover other topics impacting her readers. But, as the sixties counterculture emerged, Szekely understood that teens were less interested in makeup advice and dating tips than in the attractions of the Brave New World.
For example, she wrote a two-part series on lysergic acid diethylamide, LSD. Szekely took a clear-headed look at the pros and cons of the psychedelic. She interviewed Jean Houston, who, with her husband, Robert Masters, pioneered the human potential movement. She and Masters just published The Varieties of Psychedelic Experience, based on their government-sponsored research.
Szekely wrote that the psychedelic experience “can be what people consider one of the most important experiences of their lives, a source of new self-knowledge and awareness, and sometimes of a permanently beneficial transformation.”[18]
Using quotes from Houston, Szekely alerted her readers that street acid lacked the purity of the government research doses by Sandoz. She stressed the importance of working within the system, not dropping out. She quoted Houston on compromise:
“It is only by butting our heads against the system that we grow and go beyond it … You can see the phoniness of the system, but you can also see ways to work with it and go beyond it.”[19]
Szekely understood that the way to guide young people away from dangers was through facts presented temperately.
Velvets and Mods
Rock ‘n’ roll, as we indiscriminately call all popular music these days, is in such a fertile state of growth and expansion that all sorts of strange things are happening to it. One is that people from the worlds of art and poetry have chosen it as a medium of expression.
An example is a new release by the Velvet Underground and Nico, part of Andy Warhol’s pop art world. [20]
As her columns show, Szekely perceived the evolving state of rock music. She sought out bands that embodied the new collaboration between artists and musicians, such as the VU:
The group is already known to those who have seen Warhol’s Exploding Plastic Inevitable discotheque in New York and on its visit to the West Coast. There’s even an underground Velvet Underground fan club led by a 16-year-old girl.
The record features the deathish, dismal, distinctive voice of beautiful former fashion model Nico …
Bob Dylan came to poetry through music; others are coming to music from poetry. The Lower East Side poet members of the Fugs are one example. And a few of their songs, “Swinburne Stomp” and “How Sweet I Roam from Field to Field” by William Blake, for instance, embroider the idea.[21]
Szekely also reported on the growing sense of male fashion style:
Among the innovations are Tom Jones shirts with enormous polka dots, vinyl vests, tank suits, bathing outfits, crosswise striped pants, yellow and white striped pants, and orange-green-gold-wild print pants.
Get ready boys.[22]
Once again, being a woman gave Szekely the freedom to comment on issues like fashion that male rock writers shied away from. And occasionally tease the guys.
I’m Going to Follow You Around
Another column demonstrated this freedom even more clearly.
It’s a fascinating look into the mind and heart of Judy Roland, a musician-obsessed fan. Szekely thoughtfully showcased Roland’s passion, contrasting it with the often demeaning portrayals of female rock fans.
This column serves as another example of the importance of a woman’s perspective.
It all began several years ago when Dylan gave a concert in Seattle and Judy Rowland went to hear him. Afterwards, she waited backstage by his car until he came out. “He got in the car and looked over toward me. I kissed the window. He threw a kiss at me. That night, I made a vow that I would kiss him again, and it couldn’t be through a window.”
Dylan became the focus of her whole life …
A year later, Roland met Dylan at an after-concert party:
… She got to meet Dylan himself, to hear the whining tones whine to her, to be frowned upon by that special frown, to feel for several hours the magical presence.
A straight male writer could neither have comprehended this experience nor have been able to write about it so empathically.
“I’m going to follow you around,” she told him, and with that decision, she joined the ranks of the pilgrims, a species apart.
Even though she was yet to meet Dylan again, Roland said her “pilgrimage” was worth it:
“I’ve experienced life. I wasn’t thinking before. I was just repeating what my parents had taught me like a record.”
Asked why she thought girls pursued rock stars, Roland said,
“I think. … they want fame… They don’t think they can get it on their own. … If they can spend some time with the star, then they have something, they can talk about it, and have other people talk about them and admire them.
I’m not excellent at anything … except I’m an excellent star lover.”[23]
And a good-hearted stalker, if a bit obsessive. But has a columnist ever depicted a fan’s obsession with more nuance and empathy?
Inside WMCA
The following month, Szekely published an insider’s look at music radio:
More and more popular music is controversial. Periodically, there are uproars over records dealing with drugs, sex, social, and political criticism. The radio stations face the problem of whether or not to give this music an audience …[24]
Szekely described a record-selection meeting at New York’s WMCA that she attended:
During the record meeting I attended, four potentially controversial songs came up for consideration: Simon and Garfunkel’s version of “Silent Night,” The Troggs’ “I Can’t Control Myself,” Janis Ian’s “Society’s Child,” and Pat Boone’s “Wish You Were Here, Buddy.”
In “Silent Night,” the traditional carol soars sweetly, sung in Simon and Garfunkel’s most dulcet tones. Accompanying them is a newscaster’s voice telling of rioting in Cicero, Illinois, Richard Speck and the killing of the student nurses, HUAC activities in Washington, and Richard Nixon’s remarks on Vietnam. It is a song that chills the blood and sends shivers up and down the spine. This fact was not lost on the WMCA disc jockeys.
“It’ll be the biggest song yet,” said one. …
“I Can’t Control Myself,” which might be considered sexually suggestive, was not greeted with the same enthusiasm. The program director firmly nodded “no” as the Troggs sang. “Too tough,” commented one DJ, and the record hit the reject file.[25]
Pick Hit of the Week
Also rejected as too controversial was “Society’s Child.” But Pat Boone’s record got a thumbs up:
“Wish You Were Here, Buddy,” in which a Vietnam soldier voices a little social criticism of long-haired draft card burners back in the States, was named Pick Hit of the Week by the disc jockeys.[26]
Szekely asked a deeper question:
Does everything the station plays become a hit because WMCA has such good hit-picking instincts, or because WMCA plays it? If a station is in the position of influencing its listeners – of making the hits, not just picking them – it acquires certain responsibilities …[27]
She acknowledged that a radio station has the right to play what it wants and reject songs it considers controversial,
But such a station can be accused of being dull or out of touch with the times. In a day when popular songs are so creative, radio stations have a responsibility to present music that is good and interesting, and lyrics that are thoughtful and intelligent, as well as to pick the safe hits.[28]
Clouds of Color Drift and Ooze
As 1966 ended, Szekely penned a fascinating column on the new mixed-media shows at New York discotheques:
A new art is growing up around us, and much of it is being created in the habitats of teenagers and young adults …
The light shows on the West Coast are part of the new art. In the East, discotheques like the World, Cheetah, and the Balloon Farm are fostering it and putting it to commercial use … At Cheetah, clouds of color drift and ooze on a cinemascopic screen as dancers frolic …
The new art has a number of distinguishing characteristics.
It is fluid and ever-changing. The work of art is a total environment in which the spectator is involved. Not an object from which he stands apart.
It involves the use of more than one medium and a mixing of media …
The discotheque provides a natural setting for a popular version of this art. Lights, colors, movies, slides, music, the movement of dancers, all combined in a total experience. Someone once described this kind of discotheque as an artistic microcosm of the city life in which sounds, sights, lights crowd in upon us in an overwhelming aural and visual roar. …
Teenagers are generally the only ones who find themselves at home in these new environments and have an instinctive appreciation for this kind of art … It is easier for newer generations brought up in an electronic age with stimuli and information assaulting them from all directions, to understand the art that reflects our time.[29]
The Short-Hair-Long-Skirt Tyranny
In the first three months of 1967, Szekely wrote on several topics, beginning with a roundup of teen life in the previous year:
1966 was a great year marked by sterling teenage achievement. A few heroic souls fought bravely and not in vain against the short-hair-long-skirt tyranny. Others rallied against the curfew in Los Angeles. Still others banded together to lower the voting age.
Teen music entered its Golden Era with magnificent albums like Donovan’s Sunshine Superman, The Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds, The Beatles’ Revolver, and Dylan’s Blonde on Blonde. …
Every teenager had to face at least once the universal question: “Take any LSD lately?”[30]
In another column, Szekely wrote about a book making the rounds in the counterculture, Robert A. Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land. She wrote, “During the past six months, it has become the center of a growing literary cult.”[31]
Szekely’s column ” In Defense of Jane” featured her interview with Jane Asher and an overview of her impressive acting career. It didn’t mention Paul once.
Another column looked at the enduring popularity of rock music, as exemplified by record stores that stock “oldies,” records that dated back to the birth of rock ‘n’ roll. For the piece, Szekely interviewed the owner of the Greenwich Village record shop, the House of Oldies.
Szekely recounted the numerous “death of rock” claims over the years that never materialized, and said:
In the meantime, rock was developing a history. Now, it’s a woman with a past, loved with nostalgia and sentimentality.[32]
A Secret Frequency
One of Szekely’s most interesting columns was her April 5, 1967, interview with the Doors.
The band verged on fame; “Light My Fire” would drop a few weeks later, pushing the group’s self-named first album into the limelight.
Szekely began by trying to describe the “sensations like those that invade you when you listen to the Doors”:
… the sweet, rich sensuousness of the music; the music mingles in you. Listeners close their eyes and smile beatifically. It is as if the Doors have found the secret frequency that leads directly to the smile center of the brain …
The Doors have no leader. “We’re a Communist group,” jokes Ray. “No, an anarchist group says Robby. Each contributes equally and richly. Each note has meaning. There is not a decibel of irrelevant noise. None of the noise that only shatters.
“We’ve all shattered ourselves a long time ago,” says Ray. That was what early rock was about: an attempt to shatter 2,000 years of culture. Now we’re working on what happens after you’ve shattered.
What happens with The Doors is music that is plaintive, lamenting, and crepuscular. “The world we suggest should be of a new wild west,” says Jim, “strange and haunting.”[33]
Guitarist Robby Krieger explained:
“Each night we play, it’s a matter of life and death. There’s something we have to get past every night. It’s a matter of how completely you can express yourself. Each song has its own psychic level that has to be reached.”[34]
Szekely commented on their album:
The Doors have a single on the charts, “Break on Through,” but most acclaim has been for their album, which includes an 11 1/2 minute number called “The End.” Some people call it Sophoclean, others say Joycean. John describes it as the first “pop music drama.” The song travels through a series of poetic images, some of them contradictory. Its meaning is the mood it sets for you and the associations it arouses. Any explanation only makes it more difficult – just listen.[35]
This was one of the first pieces of commentary on the album, which had languished after its release. Crawdaddy didn’t review the album until the following month.
A Phone is Never Just a Phone
One of Szekely’s most interesting non-music columns was about the mixed blessings of telephones. Szekely wrote that for young people,
… the telephone is … sometimes a God-like instrument of Providence and sometimes a cruel and hideous monster.[36]
An example of the latter is “waiting for him to call,” showing how men were still expected to initiate relationships at that time. But on the other hand, she wrote,
For some people, the phone is such a magical instrument that they are transformed by it. Some people can say things on the phone they would never say in person. Other people become sort of phone personalities. On the phone, they are deep-voiced, sophisticated, gay, clever, and profound. Then, when you meet them, they turn out to be creeps who wear earmuff hats.[37]
Szekely concluded:
A phone is a terror, a self-torture, a cloak of invisibility, a messenger from the heavens, a magic transformation. Never just a phone.[38]
An Invitation to Delve for Meanings
For a June 1967 column, Szekely asked well-known rock musicians what they thought of the recently released Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.[39] Here are a few of the comments:
Bob Mosley, Moby Grape: I’ll probably be hearing new things in it 800 or 900 plays from now.
Michelle Philips of the Mamas and the Papas: I find myself continually singing “A Little Help From My Friends.”
Ray Manzarek of the Doors: I think The Beatles should have added an old Duke Ellington song, “It Don’t Mean a Thing If It Ain’t Got That Swing.”
Jake Jacobs of the Fugs: The cover is like a funeral ceremony with The Beatles’ name written out in flowers … it’s like a little transformation.
The following month, Szekely provided her review of the album:
The Beatles have packaged their new songs in an enigmatic way. The cover is a puzzle. The songs are puzzles, and printing the words to them on the album cover underscores their ambiguity. Having them there before you is an invitation to delve for meanings – and to judge.
What does it all mean? Anyone who has a theory is probably at least partially right – whatever evokes for you is right …[40]
“Whatever evokes for you is right” is something Susan Sontag might have written at the time. A postmodern take that appreciates the album’s ambiguities and multiple meanings.
But Szekely didn’t lose track of the record’s simple delights, calling it “an exhibition of the feats the Beatles have been able to perform with new resources and proficiency … an exhibition of musical somersaults, fiery leaps, and other feats.”[41]
Szekely made a leap of her own a few months later.
That’s Something, Isn’t It?
An article in the December 15, 1967, Los Angeles Times caught “Teen Talk” readers by surprise:
An attractive red-haired girl named Susan Szekely may have to retire three years from now when she turns 30. But right now, she’s editor of the new magazine Eye, which will be put out at the end of February by a staff of a dozen girls and men, all under 30 …[42]
The article quoted Szekely, who said a youth magazine “has to be much better done” than an adult magazine because “college age is the most critical and creative time.”[43] Szekely was moving on from teen readers to college readers.
But what of “Teen Talk”? The answer came a month later, in Szekely’s final column:
Three and a half years ago, this column began.
In that time, the youth revolution was launched, caught hold, and burgeoned …
The music … managed to pull off a great coup. Where three and a half years ago it was treated with derision, today it’s bucking for status as an art form. The people who used to say the Beatles wouldn’t last are now writing serious critiques of their work.[44]
Szekely said,
For the past three and a half years, teenagers have provided the country with superb entertainment. They’ve come up with a never-ending variety of subjects, some humorous, some a bit more serious and thought-provoking, some suspenseful, and all colorful. Their creativity seems unlimited …
That’s something, isn’t it?[45]
Eye
Hearst published the first issue of Eye magazine in January 1968 with Susan Szekely as its editor.
A bevy of newspaper articles provided different perspectives on the glossy, Life-sized magazine. When a writer for Szekely’s former newspaper, the Tucson Daily Citizen, interviewed her about the change, she said:
My job as editor is really incredible … Our offices are located in an old art gallery. When we moved in, all that was here was a huge room with a 20-foot ceiling.
Art director Judy Parker, executive editor Howard Smith and I hired our staff while walls were going up and telephones were being installed. The pounding and sawing were awful.
I love my job, I’m completely happy, even though the work is demanding. Really, though, my biggest news is my marriage three weeks ago.
Szekely said that her husband, Peter, “is in the music business, managing and producing concerts.”
Peter was so helpful during the hectic months preceding the publication of our first Eye issue. Music is the common denominator covering the broadest age range in readership, and Peter’s advice was invaluable …
The article stated that Szekely ran the Eye office and staff. She added, “I also assign articles, decide what’s going on in each issue, and edit a great many articles myself.”[46]
Quite a step up from writing a weekly teen column. However, one has to imagine that Szekely’s columns and what they showed about her insights into the New Generation helped land her the position at Eye magazine.
No Vinyl Dresses
In another piece on Szekely’s move to Eye, a writer for the Kansas City Star captured her unassuming quest to understand the pop revolution:
Susan doesn’t look the role. No poster or fluorescent vinyl dresses for her, just a smart English-made wool coat dress. No flowers painted on her face – no makeup at all, in fact.
Susan is not even so interested in what makes up pop culture as she is with the why and the who of it.
She thinks pop culture has come about because the Protestant ethic has fallen apart. As she sees it, hard work is no longer a virtue. Everybody is more concerned with how to spend their leisure. And financial security is not happiness anymore. It is to be expected. …
Susan likes pop culture devotees. “They’re questing and are aware. They’re critical. They’re flexing all the muscles of their consciousness.” She does not think they’re amoral. “They’re very moral. That goes along with their idealism.”[47]
This was Susan Szekely’s superpower: looking through the flowery veneer of sixties psychedelia and revealing the integrity of intent.
Conclusion
Indeed, Szekely paved the way for writers who wanted to dig below the surface of the emergent sixties counterculture. An unassuming pop intellectual, she situated herself in New York City, one of the movement’s centers. From her platform at the Post, Szekely encouraged her teen readers to think for themselves about the cultural revolution.
As a woman, Szekely provided a needed female perspective on a scene mainly interpreted by male writers at the time. This empowered her adolescent girl readers and gave them a relatable guide to the kaleidoscopic changes sweeping young America.
Szekely’s writings document a critical juncture in American popular music. Immersed in the action, she captured the nuances of records and concerts that reshaped the sonic landscape.
After editing Eye, Szekely remained prominent in publishing, editing major magazines such as Glamour and Redbook. She also wrote for New York Magazine, Mademoiselle, New York Times Magazine, Esquire, Woman’s Day, Wall Street Journal, Harper’s Bazaar, and the San Francisco Chronicle.
But it all started in the women’s pages of the Tucson Daily Citizen and the New York Post. Perhaps this gave the young Bryn Mawr graduate the platform to find her voice as an uncommonly prescient observer of the blossoming sixties music scene.
Notes
[1] Gerald Nachman, “Yellow Journalist: Confessions of a novice writer at the New York Post,” American Scholar, June 1, 2012. Webpage retrieved 11/15/24: https://theamericanscholar.org/yellow-journalist/.
[2] Susan Szekely, “Conformity: Do We Need It?” Tucson Daily Citizen, April 10, 1962: 20.
[3] Advertisement, Oakland Tribune, July 17, 1966: 33.
[4] Uncredited, “New ‘Teen Talk’ Column Starts Monday in Nugget,” North Bay Nugget, July 22, 1966: 3.
[5] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” North Bay Nugget, July 25, 1966: 11.
[6] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” North Bay Nugget, July 25, 1966: 11.
[7] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” North Bay Nugget, July 25, 1966: 11.
[8] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” North Bay Nugget, July 25, 1966: 11.
[9] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” North Bay Nugget, July 25, 1966: 11.
[10] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Montana Standard-Post, Sept. 9, 1966: 9.
[11] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Montana Standard-Post, Sept. 14, 1966: 2.
[12] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Montana Standard-Post, Sept. 14, 1966: 2.
[13] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Montana Standard-Post, Sept. 14, 1966: 2.
[14] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Montana Standard-Post, Sept. 14, 1966: 2.
[15] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Montana Standard-Post, Sept. 14, 1966: 2.
[16] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Montana Standard-Post, Sept. 14, 1966: 2.
[17] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Montana Standard-Post, Sept. 14, 1966: 2.
[18] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Orlando Sentinel, Sept. 27, 1966: 7.
[19] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Orlando Sentinel, Sept. 28, 1966: 7.
[20] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Montana Standard, Oct. 5, 1966: 5.
[21] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Montana Standard, Oct. 5, 1966: 5.
[22] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Montana Standard, Oct. 5, 1966: 5.
[23] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Montana Standard, Oct. 10, 1966: 5.
[24] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Montana Standard-Post, Nov. 18, 1966: 9.
[25] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Montana Standard-Post, Nov. 18, 1966: 9.
[26] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Montana Standard-Post, Nov. 18, 1966: 9.
[27] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Montana Standard-Post, Nov. 18, 1966: 9.
[28] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Montana Standard-Post, Nov. 18, 1966: 9.
[29] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Montana Standard-Post, Dec. 2, 1966: 10.
[30] Susan Szekely, “Here’s Susan,” North Bay Nugget, Jan. 6, 1967: 5.
[31] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Red Bluff Tehama County Daily News, Feb. 9, 1967: 3.
[32] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Red Bluff Tehama County Daily News, March 27, 1967: 3.
[33] Susan Szekely, “Here’s Susan,” North Bay Nugget, April 11, 1967: 6.
[34] Susan Szekely, “Here’s Susan,” North Bay Nugget, April 11, 1967: 6.
[35] Susan Szekely, “Here’s Susan,” North Bay Nugget, April 11, 1967: 6.
[36] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Montana Standard, April 5, 1967: 15.
[37] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Montana Standard, April 5, 1967: 15.
[38] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Montana Standard, April 5, 1967: 15.
[39] Susan Szekely, “Here’s Susan,” North Bay Nugget, June 26, 1967: 9.
[40] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Red Bluff Tehama County Daily News, July 10, 1967: 3.
[41] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk by Susan,” Red Bluff Tehama County Daily News, July 10, 1967: 3.
[42] Eugenia Sheppard, “Under-30 Staff Edits New Magazine,” Los Angeles Times, Dec. 15, 1967: V-20.
[43] Eugenia Sheppard, “Under-30 Staff Edits New Magazine,” Los Angeles Times, Dec. 15, 1967: V-20.
[44] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk,” Capital Journal, Feb. 9, 1968: 4-4.
[45] Susan Szekely, “Teen Talk,” Capital Journal, Feb. 9, 1968: 4-4.
[46] Sue Giles, “Former Citizen Staffer Edits New Magazine,” Tucson Daily Citizen, March 7, 1968: 12.
[47] Peggy Constantine, “Eye a Magazine for Pop Culture,” Kansas City Star, March 10, 1968: 70.
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