BY ALEX LEADER-SMITH

In print | Published January 27, 2005

I marveled awestruck at the god before me. Nelson, Nelson, NELSON!!! Here in the flesh was the iconic rebel, the stalwart enemy of corporate malfeasance, the valiant David to Diebold’s ugly Goliath. Sure, I’d known Nelson since freshman orientation, but never before had I seen him like this — tucked away in his underground Fortress of Solitude, preaching to a legion of like-minded Free Culturalists, plotting his next strike against the tyranny of copyright. The SCCS Media Lounge does remarkable things to a man’s complexion. And there I was, soaking it all in.

I went to Free Culture headquarters hoping to get a whiff of The Next Big Thing. I’d watched national news outlets laud Nelson Pavlosky ‘06 for Free Culture’s stunning legal triumph over Diebold, and I wanted a piece of that fame. I’ve managed some terrific accomplishments at Swat: twelve weeks of consecutive Sharples breakfasts, a nine-day-long homework abstention, and soon-to-be-four years at Swat without seeing the inside of a science lab. Yet none of these triumphs had The New York Times beating a path to my door. Clearly populist activism was the real ticket to fame and fortune.

Indeed, the Free Culturalists themselves wanted to make a splash. They were like Steven Spielberg post-“Jaws”: they had a career-defining success behind them, but were still looking for bigger fish to fry. I thought I might rally these activists off their laurels, but their whiteboard already overflowed with ideas. These guys were thinking big, and they wouldn’t chase some old broadcast flag DFM whoziwhatzit mumbo-jumbo. They wanted pizzazz, they wanted sex appeal, they wanted a campaign everyone could embrace. They wanted, in other words, open access academic journals — because if rigged elections are America’s #1 free culture concern, classified information on Joyce and the sublime is clearly #2.

Admittedly, I was somewhat skeptical. I couldn’t recall the last time I wanted to read cutting-edge research on trifluoroacetic anhydride, much less crusade for others to do so. But then Nelson threw me a curveball. He described the true benefits of public research: how a father could read the latest breakthroughs on a disease afflicting his daughter, or third-world countries could keep up to date on the latest medical research. Suddenly, I was very impressed.

I was also impressed by Free Culture’s brilliant multi-tasking — they balanced talk of their national campaign with efforts to bring Free Culture entertainment to Swarthmore. My favorite idea was their plan to hold a debate between a Free Culture leader and a high-profile pro-copyright executive. If only other Swat groups were so open-minded! Earthlust could invite Dick Cheney to defend the Bush administration’s energy policy. Animal Rights Coalition could host a dinner with Jim Perdue. And how better to emphasize women’s issues than Feminist Majority-sponsored cocktails with Hugh Hefner? There’s no campus group that couldn’t use a dash of debate and a pinch of controversy.

As talks swirled of Cooper Grants and national caucuses, I realized I’d seen what I’d come for: the birth of a campaign destined for greatness. It’s only a matter of time before the free culture paparazzi flock to this new crusade, battling to gain exclusive Nelson photographs to distribute free of charge on the Internet. Yet something held me back, and I knew what it was: this Fortress of Solitude already has its Superman. What could I add to them? I couldn’t gain renown by riding Free Cultures’ coattails. I needed to be my own Nelson.

That’s right: I want to start my own club. I want my own whiteboard, my own marker, my own legion of devoted followers. Have some free time? Want to join a new club? Send me an e-mail. Join the new party. Tell me what sort of party you want to have. We might not be Superman, but we’ll certainly have a story to tell.

Alex Leader-Smith is a junior. You can reach him at aleader1@swarthmore.edu.

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