With Pens In Hand:
A Brief History of Low

Caught between a cadre of hard-line Leftist and Feminist professors in the university's Communication Department who aggressively lashed out at students who did not parrot their ideological doctrine; and a conservative Administration that felt students were allowed on campus only to pay fees, go to class and shut-up, Cromer and Dominick first published Low Magazine as a way to raise a blazing middle finger right in their uptight faces.

The musings and antics of Abbie Hoffman, Mario Savio and Lenny Bruce served as inspiration, with a soundtrack provided by The Doors and spiritual guidance by Mother Earth.

As Timothy Leary had told Cromer at Cal Poly back in 1985 "Dissent is as American as sticking a feather in your cap and calling it 'macaroni.'"

From 1988 until 1997, Low Magazine quickly evolved from a gritty Free Speech protest to a vibrant independent student magazine that spread to eight university campuses in Southern California and Northern Arizona-with subscribers in almost every state.

These were the salad days of the 'zine revolution that exploded out of desktop technology falling into the hands of guys like Cromer and Dominick. Low Magazine joined the ranks of such 'zines as Angry Thoreauan, POP Smear, The OtherSide, Roller Derby, Drinkin' Buddy and many others.

Maturing to blend student writers and artists with professional journalists and illustrators, Low Magazine beat out the officially sanctioned publications on virtually every campus it circulated at, including the venerable OPUS at Cal Poly Pomona.

As Low Magazine grew increasingly professional by publishing hard-hitting exposes covering politics, culture and sex as well as the free-wheeling prose and art of some of the best young writers and artists in Greater LA, the faculty "advisors" who actually ran OPUS at Cal Poly produced lobotomy-inducing fare, publishing "news articles" on bar codes, meat-cutting jobs, train sets and summer fashion.

While the 'zine revolution was exploding all over the country, the Politically Correct apparatchiks in Cal Poly's Communication Department imploded in a fit of rage over Low Magazine, a spasm of hate and fear that would have done their intellectual benefactor Joseph Stalin proud. Low Magazine had blown OPUS out of the water in circulation, ad revenue and literally every other measurement of real-world publishing success. The boot-wearing Fem-wing that ran Cal Poly's Communication Department went into intellectual menopause, suffering hot flashes, hormonal fits of hysteria, weeping at the sight of a magazine they didn't control.

When OPUS finally crumbled under the sheer weight of the Communication Department's commitment to mediocrity and ceased publishing, the department's Politically Correct squads (think an academic version of Mao's Revolutionary Guards) went ballistic. A few of the more committed professors launched a campaign to destroy Low Magazine distribution stands, began tearing down Low posters and threatened academic retribution against student contributors.

The sick irony of watching public tax-paid professors roam the halls tearing down posters that celebrated a magazine they didn't appreciate was intense, like having a seat at the Reichstag Fire show trial.

It was truly obscene, yet captivating, to watch so-called educators at a state university-their faces contorted into masks of hate-launch an intellectual Kamikazi attack on an independent publication. Napoleon Bonaparte once remarked that he feared three free newspapers more than a hundred thousand bayonets. These professors at Cal Poly's Communication Department embodied that fear.

Of course, the faculty's censorious outrage only inspired the Low staff and the small, independent student magazine began achieving greater things.

In the spring of 1994, Low Magazine filed a California Public Records Act request to obtain the police report documenting the arrest of Montclair Mayor Larry Rhinehart, who the Ontario Police Department had snared in a prostitution sting on Holt Avenue. The mayor was a friend of San Bernardino County District Attorney Dennis Stout and-surprise, surprise-Rhinehart was the only one of 19 men arrested who was not charged with a crime. The DA offered the dubious claim of "lack of evidence," though apparently it had enough evidence to charge the other 18 schmucks.

Low published the details culled from the arrest report in a blistering cover story entitled 'Man About Town,' which sparked local protests at city hall, was picked up by local television stations and resulted in Rhinehart's resignation.

While the so-called "mainstream" media had long covered pornography simply as an on-going crime story, Low was the first regional magazine to reflect the emerging moral climate on university campuses by regularly reporting on the industry from a wide array of aspects, including porn's cultural impacts, artistic issues and the sexual politics that porn provokes.

Low Magazine's 1995 cover story on sexual provocateur Max Hardcore detailed the exploits of the former UPI photographer who was pushing porn to the edge. The story was actually entered into evidence in a Federal Court case over intellectual property rights to the name 'Max Hardcore.'

When Timothy Leary was celebrating his impending death in 1996, he invited Low Magazine out to spend a few quiet moments with him in his Beverly Hills pad, where he recalled past glories and seemed genuinely ready for his date with oblivion.

Putting his arm around Cromer, Leary nodded earnestly and sent him away with these last words: "You do your thing and I'll do mine, between the two of us we'll get the word out."

Just weeks later Leary was dead and the New York Times published Low Magazine's cover photograph on the front page of its National Edition obituary. Low celebrated by plastering Cal Poly Pomona with hundreds of posters of the cover shot; heralding "All The Art That's Fit To Print" and the Communication Department's Khmer Rouge-like faculty finally bowed their heads in utter defeat.

By 1997, after a decade of publishing Low, Cromer decided to it was time to fold the magazine while it was at its zenith and move on to new challenges and opportunities on the horizon.

Larry Flynt flirted with the idea of buying Low Magazine, but ended up hiring Cromer to launch another project for him instead.

The last issue of Low Magazine to roll off the presses was a 100-page blowout that touched off poignant salutes from a wide array of publications, including Cal Poly's Poly Post and the University of La Verne's Campus Times, which celebrated just how much the magazine had changed the dynamic on those campuses.

The one-time bastard child of the campus press had become an undeniable part of the landscape that would be missed.

The Poly Post published a special section saluting Low Magazine, the Cal Poly Library archived an entire collection of the magazine and its posters and Cromer was invited to speak at the annual Com Day in 1997 and 1999, drawing the largest audience of students at both events.

To see the full collection of Low Magazine Covers
Click HERE