e now call it RED Magazine, but art and entertainment writing has always found a home in these pages. Here’s a chronology of such writing in its many names and incarnations:

1892—The U's fledgling student newspaper publishes its first arts and entertainment story. It's a look into the latest dance craze and the song that inspired it—"Oh, Them Golden Slippers." However, fickle college teens soon turn their attention to the Appalachian pop sensations responsible for "Donkey in the Cotton Patch, Uh Huh."

1898—Crude drawings of Spaniards holding hands with the devil fill The Chronicle's Lollygaggery section and eventually draws  America into a war against Spain. President McKinley vows to liberate Cuba and free its bananas for the benefit of the Cuban people.

1912—The Titanic sinks with 1,500 souls on board.

“It would make a smashing moving-picture show,” the editor of The Ute Artful Dodger muses, “if only one could seamlessly write the gratuitous display of boobs into the story.”

1917—The Czar falls to the glorious Bolshevik rebellion. Long live the glorious proletariat!

1941—War Ho! The Japanese attack Pearl Harbor. The advertising staff makes the Asian writer sit in a well-lit corner, so they can keep an eye on him. All able-bodied men who aren’t whiny little babies join the military. With the men away, administrators replace most of The Chrony staff with spunky, young women who think they can write as well as the guys. If only the writing was as good as their figures…Va-Va Voom!

Migrant Mexican workers do most of the entertainment reviews. Those lousy lay-abouts didn’t want to leave when the war ended and we didn’t want them anymore! ¡Qué ingratos!

1951—While investigating Communist influences in college newsrooms, the FBI becomes suspicious of an assistant editor and her frequent visits to Boris' Borscht Hut. “I come for the boiled cabbage, but stay for the Marxist dogma,” they quote her as saying.

1955—U entertainment writers catch up to the changing times with a new magazine insert named The Rumpus Room.

“Rumpus? But you hardly even know us!” becomes a popular campus refrain.

1956—Allen Ginsberg publishes “Howl,” the seminal poem of the Beat generation. A Utah company called Clean Verses republishes it, but with all references to homosexuality replaced with “…and then they ate biscuits.” The conservative wing of The Rumpus Room readily prints the cleaned up version.

1964—Our music writers were into The Beatles long before they got really popular.

You guys are such poseurs.

1974—After viewing “The Godfather, Part II,” a Gr-U-vy Gazette movie reviewer makes a bold statement: “This film improves so much on an already spectacular first movie. With this momentum, I predict the third installment in this saga will be the finest film ever made in the history of the world. By the way, Sofia Coppola will evolve into an incredible actress in the coming decades.”

1978—The civil rights movement makes a belated debut in Utah. A writer for the U Gotta Have Arts section receives a directive from God telling him that it’s OK to review music by black artists, especially God’s erratic half brother, James Brown.

Following his lead, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints issues a similar proclamation. (That’s Elder Brown, thank you very much.)

1984—War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength.

1990—A music writer for U-U Utey-Ute-Ute ends an interview with NWA by threatening violence against the gangsta rap pioneers. "God help you punks if the sun ever sets on you while you're in Salt Lake City," he warns them. Police organizations misinterpret it as a showing of solidarity in response to the controversial tune, "Fuck tha Police.” The writer later explained the knife-wielding tantrum as a reaction to the song "Dope Man" and an expression of his anger over disparaging remarks made against crack dealers.

1994—Culture quake! Grunge makes disheveled losers look fashionable and “heroin chic” puts junkies on modeling runways. It feels good to be a trailblazer.

2003—The new millennium is here, minus the disobedient computers and the mining trips to Saturn. Rest assured, RED will be here with a masterful blend of elitist snobbery and earthy counterculture to satisfy all your art and entertainment yearnings.
craig@red-mag.com