A View of Things to Come

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Typos are like sin. They’re nasty and everywhere and stand out like an unzipped zipper; they’re made regularly and never fully eliminated, no matter how hard you try. The best you can do is hope they’re forgiven and not feel guilty about the ones that sneak by. Laree is presently attending the transgressions of “West Coast Bodybuilding Scene,” its final reckoning. The cover art and manuscript are complete and ready for the printer. One more read-through, the eighth of eight, will grant it admission to FedEx and direct passage to the steamy and overpopulated metropolis, Book City.

I’m left to packing for NYC, feeding Mugsy and taking out the garbage. Below is the West Coast Bodybuilding Scene (WCBS) foreword to give you a flavor of Dick Tyler’s on-the-spot reporting and commenting of Those Days When.

We love this book, Dick, Laree and me, and hope you will, too.

WEST COAST BODYBUILDING SCENE FOREWORD by dd

Musclebuilding, I suspect, is as old as the hills. When man first realized women were attracted to slick, muscular bodies and discovered rocks, prey, mischievous cave-dwellers and monsters were lifted more easily with a mighty back and strong arms, man put his genius to work, and thus his body, to improve his sinewy assets. The Dinosaur Championships held in 10,000 BC crowned the original Mr. World and records were established in rock snatches and boulder clean-and-jerks.

The movement had begun and the next thing you know John Grimek is Mr. America and Steve Reeves is making Hercules films. This muscle stuff is becoming popular; there’s a subculture budding in the grungy YMCAs and garages across the states -- bodybuilding’s spreading to the sunny beaches of California and before long will be mainstream.

During the ‘50s Muscle Beach in Santa Monica, California emerged the muscle and physical culture capital of the world.

And so the stage is set for the West Coast Bodybuilding Scene, that time in the history of weightlifting when bodybuilding neared critical mass, swirled in its growing energy and attracted its grand external source of power, the spectators. It is the Golden Era of Bodybuilding, new, young, alive, untainted, unworn, unexploited... and adored. The spectators became fans.

West Coast Bodybuilding Scene is about a particular group of people with a special interest who inhabited a small region of California during a short period of time. Dick Tyler experienced, observed and recorded this golden stretch of bodybuilding history between ’65 and ‘71 as a journalist, as a participant and as a weight lifting devotee. His eyes and ears were acute and his love for the sport was wrapped up in an affectionate sense of humor, the most accurate and appealing conduit of delivery for this unique physical expression.

You see, bodybuilding is a sport, an art form, a diversion, a hobby, an obsession, a competition, a love affair and a lifestyle.

Things heated up around the world in the ‘60s. Life became restless. Emotions and passions of the sensitive and few picked up the under-current, responded to the vibe. Men looked for something to hold onto, to keep them ready and balanced, directed and challenged yet entertained. Iron and steel, muscle and might emerged. Muscle Beach, too wonderful to endure, sadly unraveled. Individuals surfaced in its place and what simmered for years was ready to erupt in slow motion.

Watch the passionate explosion of events from the lens of the cameras whose shudders were triggered at the most perfect moments by artists Russ Warner and Artie Zeller. Few photographers have witnessed in their viewfinders the vivid story which is about to unfold. Those same picture-takers engendered the events, stimulated bodybuilding’s progress, universally popularized physical fitness and recorded the sport’s stunning occasions now known as history.

There were only a handful of weightlifters, powerlifters and bodybuilders during this natural period of bodybuilding development. And in the U.S. three men and their magazines -- Peary Rader with “Ironman,” Bob Hoffman with “Strength and Health” and Joe Weider with “Muscle Builder” -- sought to expand the sport and popularize its participants.

Popularize soon became known as capitalize. It was during the Golden Era when the machinery of competition and marketing magnified and amplified the activities of muscle and might, iron and steel and went on to create the rather large pool of spectators and participants of all shapes and sizes we know today. Bodybuilding, once a puppy with a waggily tail, has become a monster. I do not say this without affection. Monsters can be cute.

My name is Dave Draper and I had the precious advantage (graced by God, actually) of being in the middle of it all. And I’m in the middle of it all again. The years have come and gone and tons of weights have moved up and down. I, as you, love this stuff and I can’t, nor do I wish to, put it aside.

The story of the Golden Era is accompanied by 160 pictures, each worth a thousand words, and I slip in my two cents to comment on the black and white photographic portrayals and keep you apprised of names, dates, places and events.

As this is not a history from which to learn, but a memory in which to share and delight, a stiff and factual account gives way to loose continuity. There was a marriage in the minds and souls of Dick and Artie that cannot be duplicated and their synergy provides an insight into a beautiful past that no historian or scholar could ever understand.

Dave

Post Scripts

Some afterthoughts not included in the publication -- for your minds only.

People, young and old, say, “Whatever happened to the good old days?” We tend to say that about everything, as if things were better in the past and times are tougher, grimmer today. I don’t know; life is life, we live today and look toward tomorrow with hope. It’ll all work out. Be positive. We’ve come a long way, my friend. Look on the bright side. Chin up and carry on.

Well, I have to admit it was less crowded then and that was cool.

And it is true, a greater percentage of people were in shape then, ate better, worked harder and didn’t take anti-depressants like they were Chiclets. Ya think it would be the other way around.

Of course, it follows that most people are overweight and generally less healthy today. Weird, man.

I remember when fast food hadn’t yet glommed onto the social structure and the economy and our behinds. Where did we eat, I wonder?

I stood in line on Hollywood Blvd to see the spectacular Cinerama in ’64. The world thought the motion picture “2001, A Space Odyssey” was a futuristic sci-fi flick. It’s come and gone with bell bottoms and Saddam Hussein. It’s history with a tale.

Can’t argue facts; the computer has taken over most of the world. Though we don’t admit it, observe the sloped-shouldered, paunchy persons before the monitors and the less than wholesome, hyper-kinetic kids playing those nasty video games.

Can you believe the business of health foods and health clubs has become a billion-dollar industry? It was a million-dollar entrepreneurial risk in the ‘60s. Vitamin C was big; carrot juice and wheat grass happening.

Add this legitimate Jay Leno Factoid to the matter: There are more gyms across the American landscape than cows and there’s a Lifecycle for every citizen. You can have my Lifecycle if I can have your cow.

And here’s more progress for you; simple and efficient iron weights have been replaced by intricate, complex computerized machines with a hundred moving parts. Just when you figure them out, they break down -- a chip or something. Just when you pay them off, they come out with a new, improved model -- fancy fenders with fins.

Relief at last; there are TVs by the dozens at every angle on your gym floor. You don’t have to worry about things to think about. Concentration is discouraged, hard work is minimized and goals are... um... good question. What are you doing here anyway?

Talk about developments, don’t despair. On those ubiquitous TV monitors you are promised quick muscle development and fast weight loss if you sit still and take this pill, powder or liquid. Guaranteed, but supplies are limited. Available at 1-800-per-fect. Wait. There’s more. Buy now and get a fat-free digital donut maker with an authentic imitation carrying case.

Thank goodness for scientific research and sound medicine, today you have exotic ingredients of every concoction in pills, capsules, drops, sublinguals, powders, tonics, salves and creams to assist you where you need assistance, whether they work or not, which is good because most don’t, never did, never were intended to and never will. Act today and get two for the price of one. Hype is cheap, mind-numbing, irritating and disappointing and is found on every page of the muscle mags for which you pay five hefty dollars. And to think the muscleheads got by somehow without the costly essentials in 1963.

What’s that beeping? Why, it’s my miniature computerized Pocket Pal reminding me it’s time to go to the gym and workout. You can be sure I would have forgotten if it wasn’t for my trusty beeper. See you at the gym, Blasters.

Have a grand Christmas. And go with God’s speed and strength... Dave

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