After the Trial
At our last meeting I said that if our comrades were imprisoned, we who remained free would continue the struggle against the forces of repression now active in this country, against the political police, against every enemy of freedom. That struggle is now on. The weapons with which we can fight are limited : they are the very weapons which our authoritarian government is attempting to take away from us — our printing-press, our pamphlets, our right to speak and publish the truth that is within us. Limited as they are, these are nevertheless the only weapons we need to create such a volume of protest that press and parliament, the public at large will be compelled to listen to us. We shall not rest until our comrades are released, and even then we shall go on, to create such a consciousness of the existing danger to our common liberty, that the cause of it is for ever eliminated from our society.
It will not be an easy campaign. Among the many lessons which this episode has taught us, the most surprising to me has been the indifference of the so-called liberal press. There have been exceptions, .and in particular I would like to mention the Manchester Guardian. But for the most part once they had exhausted the "news value" of the case in a sentence or two, the rest has been silence. Here was a clear threat to the liberty of the Press. Did the Press rise in righteous indignation? We have not heard a single note of complaint. This institution which boasts that it is the guardian of our national liberties was perhaps a little drunk with the prospects of a military victory : at any rate, it slept whilst the very liberties which they thought were being secured in Europe were filched from us here in the Old Bailey.
Then there is Parliament. We anarchists have never placed much faith in the dim inmates of that opium den, but we note that many of them talk frequently of liberty, inside the House and out. But what has Parliament done to defend our liberty in this case? We know well enough that all that gang talk endlessly about freedom, it is a nice inspiring word — but they uphold its reality only so long as it does not threaten their private interests.
In these last few weeks more hypocrisy has been smeared over our daily and weekly papers than ever before in our history. If you can bring yourself to read the leading articles and commentaries in these periodicals, you will find the word "freedom" in almost every paragraph. You are told that we have just won the greatest war in history — for "freedom" .You are asked to celebrate this glorious victory — "in the cause of freedom." You are even encouraged to get drunk for "freedom." We are not deceived. So long as our three comrades remain in prison, victory is an illusion, and the man who celebrates it is nothing but a mug.
We have met here to-night not to celebrate a victory, but to take counsel after a defeat. In the face of that defeat, I propose now briefly to reaffirm the beliefs for which our comrades have been persecuted and imprisoned. It would give me great pleasure to do this if only to show that we are by no means intimidated by what has happened. The penalties of the Courts are only justified on the assumption that they deter others from repeating the alleged offence. We are not moved one inch from our course. All that legal pantomime at the Old Bailey was from every point of view a futile and costly farce. It has cost our side quite a lot : it must have cost the State more — several thousand pounds. There are the salaries of Inspector Whitehead and his agents for the three or four months they devoted to the case: there are the still larger salaries of the Attorney General and his assistants for the many days they devoted to the reading of War Commentary: the still larger salary of his lordship the judge, for the four days he spent listening to the case: and then the more modest wages of the ushers who tried to keep us out of the Court and of all the various clerks and bailiffs who filled the benches in the Court. Nor must we forget the wages of the policemen who inspected all our identity cards one day. That makes a pretty total, which might have been justified if the prisoners on trial had been gangsters or profiteers, murderers or swindlers.
But what in actual fact were the prisoners in the dock? They were men who held a certain belief, a theory of society, an ideal of civilization, and all they had done, the only crime with which they could be charged, was that they had incidentally taken steps to bring their beliefs to the attention of members of His Majesty's Forces.
What is this belief whose mere propagation constitutes a crime? I am going to tell you, in simple direct words, and what I shall say will amount to no more and no less than the substance of the beliefs for which our comrades are now suffering a sentence of imprisonment.
We begin with the central fact of WAR. We say that if our civilization is to survive — not this country nor that country, but the whole civilization of which we are members — war must be eliminated. War has now reached a stage of technical development which in future will involve, not merely the deaths of millions of human beings — men, women and children — but also the complete destruction of the material necessities of life: food, housing, communications, health. War will henceforth mean annihilation, not merely for the vanquished, but for all who engage in it.
We then analyse the causes of war, and this is where we begin to differ from other people who would also like to get rid of war. We say that modern war cannot be explained in terms of capitalism, of imperialism, of economics or of populations: it is a disease of civilization itself, something inherent in the very structure of modern society. In order to get rid of war, we must alter the structure of society.
But "to alter the structure of society" is merely a polite way of saying that a revolution will be essential, and it is for using this word "revolution" that our comrades are in prison. They would not have been put in prison if they had expressed a wish to alter "the structure of society" — which only shows what power is attributed to words when they become weapons.
But whatever we call the process, the choice before our civilization is clear: either revolution or annihilation. That is the unescapable conclusion which we anarchists have reached, and we claim that it. is a rational, indeed a logical conclusion.
But what then does revolution imply? We say that the structural fault in our civilization which leads to war lies in the doctrine of national sovereignty, which requires for its expression and propagation the social organ known as the State. Modern wars are conducted by States, through their paid servants — the politicians, civil servants and armed forces. Wars do not, in our stage of development, break out. naturally between peoples, and in spite of all the powers of persuasion which States can command and direct, the peoples remain largely indifferent to the issues involved in State wars. Put in another way, we might say that modern wars are essentially ideological, and ideologies belong to classes, not to peoples. The peoples have no ideologies, anywhere. They have interests and prejudices, customs and superstitions: they may be selfish and egotistic, but everywhere and at all time their main purpose is to secure a living from the soil, or from the labours of their hands or brains: and they know that such a purpose is not furthered, but frustrated, by war. Lives, houses, cattle, tillage, material possessions of every kind — these are the common wealth of the people, however unevenly distributed that wealth may be. That kind of wealth is destroyed by war. What is not destroyed by war is another kind of wealth — gold, bonds, credits and other goods not made by labour: these may escape war, just as German Bonds will survive this war, or as Russian Imperial Bonds have escaped "the greatest revolution in history" : but this kind of wealth does not belong to the people, but to the State and its servants, and, one must add, to its dupes.
Under defeat, a particular State may disintegrate. We have seen several States disintegrate during the past few years — France, Belgium, Italy, Greece, and now Germany. This, we say, provides a golden opportunity to make the necessary structural alterations in our social system. It is, in fact, a revolutionary situation, and in such a situation, when the State has revealed all its insubstantiality, and has vanished overnight, we must not let any body of gangsters or looters step out of the ruins and organize another State. That will only lead inevitably to another war and a worse war. In such a revolutionary situation, our comrades said, and I repeat, the armed forces have ceased to exist as instruments of a State: for the moment the nations have become peoples, people in arms. Let the nation remain a people in arms — stick to your arms, we say to such a people, rather than deliver them up to any gang which takes upon itself to speak in the name of a new State. If we are a people, all equal and all equally armed or disarmed, then we can get together and agree on a new form of society, a non-governmental society, in which nation will no longer be opposed to nation, State to State, but a society in which people will work together for the common good. When that reform has been accomplished, everywhere in the world, we can all throw away our arms, and live in peace ever after.
That is the doctrine which our comrades preached, for which they have been persecuted and imprisoned. You may not agree with it — you may not agree with Buddhism or Christianity, with communism or conservatism, but we do not, in this country, imprison people for being Buddhists or Christians, conservatists or communists. Why, then, in the name of all that is just and equitable, are these three anarchists deprived of their liberty?
Well, it is perhaps a simple miscarriage of justice, an anomaly of the law, some bad kind of joke played by the State jesters. That would be the most agreeable explanation to offer. But if that is not the right explanation, if our comrades have been imprisoned in the pursuance of a ruthless and determined policy, then the rights we believe we possess as citizens of this democratic country are at an end. There is no longer, in this land such a thing as the liberty of unlicensed printing for which Milton made his immortal and unanswerable plea : there is no longer any such thing as freedom of expression which ten generations of Englishmen have jealously guarded. These words are now a mockery, and either we have been duped slaves to accept such a breach of our traditional rights, or we resolve never to rest until they are restored. I cannot imagine what perfidy of mind has spread among our judiciary that it has so far forgotten its trust as to allow so great an abuse of justice under the excuse of war-time regulations — regulations which peace has now made obsolete. Some of these Regulations have just been abolished — the fascists have been set free, but our comrades remain in prison. These Regulations which were admitted under protest at the time of their enactment, and only accepted in view of their temporary force, were designed, however illogically, to secure a victory in the cause of freedom. By all accounts, that victory has been won. But we are here to assert that the war which has been won on the Continent of Europe has been lost in this island of Britain, and we can have no joy in victory, nor ease from strife, until our comrades once more stand beside us as free men.
'After the trial', Herbert Read, from: "Freedom; Is it a crime?: the strange case of the three anarchists jailed at the Old Bailey, April 1945" Freedom Press Defence Committee, 1945.
Black Flag
After a delay of about a year, Black Flag has returned. A lot of exciting events have happened in this time: Genoa, Argentina, the protests in New York and Brussels, a general strike in Nigeria — the list seems endless.
This issue discusses some of these events in detail. We have analysis of Genoa, partly exposing the anti-anarchist hype and partly trying to learn lessons from the events. Genoa was a turning point for the "anti-globalisation" movement — the state attacked a mass demonstration in order to send a clear message to protestors and split the movement by demonising anarchists. Anarchists need to evaluate and understand what happened and the attacks on anarchists after the events by liberals and trots must be countered. Moreover, the European Police (Europol) has been busy. We discuss this aspect of the EU and Europol's invention of "anarchist terrorism" as a means to criminalise struggle. The parallels to the Italian "strategy of tension" in the 1970s are striking and given the actions of the police in Genoa, we need to learn lessons from the past. More positively, we discuss working class self-organisation in Argentina. The events in Argentina are a striking confirmation of anarchist theory and practice. The "principles of anarchism" (to use Kropotkin's words) have been reinvented yet again in working class struggle. Hopefully, the Argentine anarchists can help these seeds of anarchy to grow and bloom. We also have an eye-witness accounts of life in free Chiapas. Eight years on, their struggle for a better life continues and, thankfully, they are not postponing change until after the "glorious revolution."
A recurring theme in this issue is the importance of applying anarchist ideas in working class struggle. The horror of September 11th shows the importance of applying our ideas on the ground — if a viable libertarian alternative does not exist then people will turn to the dead end of apparently radical, but in fact deeply reactionary, ideologies.
Issue 221 available now from Black Flag BM hurricane, London, WC1N 3XX. The deadline for issue 222 is mid-August.
Anarchy in Sheffield?
Mark Barnsley (a framed prisoner himself) kindly provided us with a paraphrase of an account from The Commonweal about what happened in Sheffield when the first edition of this pamphlet was being distributed:
To see what people were getting so excited about, just see Stanley's Exploits or Civilising Africa, just published. The Justice for Mark Barnsley Campaign can be reached at PO Box 381, Huddersfield, HD1 3XX
Dear friends,
I just wanted to point out to you an error that I noticed in the first paragraph of the introduction to "The Walsall Anarchists", by David Nicoll. The same paragraph also appears in the back cover of the pamphlet.
In that paragraph it is said that "David Nicoll was arrested when his wife lay dead in her bed etc." When Nicoll was arrested, on April 18th, 1892, as stated on the pamphlet's cover, his comrade Charles Mowbray was also arrested. Now, the dead wife was Mowbray's, not Nicoll's .If you are interested, I can give you references about the episode.
In solidarity,
Davide Turcato
Argentina: Severino di Giovanni
Bankrobbers & Graverobbers!
Severino di Giovanni was a militant activist in the Argentina of the 1930s, funding an anarchist publishing house, among other activities, by armed robberies. Maligned in print, now it seems there are plans for a film - and one no better than the press coverage. Like Herbert read says elsewhere in this issue "once they had exhausted the 'news value' of the case in a sentence or two, the rest has been silence." But we should not be surprised: journalists live by creating headlines, regardless of the consequences. Film-makers, too seem to say: 'Never mind the facts, give me the story'!
OPEN LETTER TO LUIS PUENZO
from América Scarfó
To Luis Puenzo:
Having had no reply to my recorded letter of 6 April I have decided to write these few lines to you. I have no liking for court proceedings: the system's courts virtually always favour the powerful. Be that as it may, though, I simply must place on record the dismal quality of the script filmed as Severino. You know very well that the entire thing is a silly lie. It is not our story - the story of Severino Di Giovanni and me. You have concocted hybrid personages that have nothing anarchist about them. The entire yarn is awash with a sickliness bordering on stupidity. You hint at a triangle, a questionable relationship between siblings and at other matters which I cannot go into in the space available in this letter. You make up for lack of ideas with sex and shoot-outs. I showed you the photocopied police report on the raid on Burzaco where Severino had been living up until the time he was arrested: the premises contained no weapons nor was there any of the shoot-outs of which you are so fond. When I told you that I disagreed with the first portion of the screenplay, you promised me that it would be amended. You did not honour that promise and you carry on in the same blithe lying tone, giving your script a name that you have no right to usurp. It is a shame that you did not use of the evidence I advanced to you (reports, writings, poems, etc.) to produce a fine movie: a story of pure love and an epic of dreamers bent on changing this wretched world. It is sad that the Institute of Cinematography (and the odd backer) should have squandered money on a movie that misleads people with its despicable falsehoods. An idyll reflected in 50 love letters, poetry and poems and not once do you include the word "love" in this obscene screenplay. It is as if you had thrown mud over a garland of splendid flowers. A lover of the calibre of Severino would never have described his loved one as "dynamite". I read you the contents of his last letter (written only hours before his death). As he had so often before, he referred to me as "sweetness". Both Severino and my brother Paulino Scarfó went to their deaths like heroes. They lived and perished for an ideal of justice and freedom. They were not layabouts sprawling in bed in ambiguous poses, such as you cynically suggest in your screenplay. In Burzaco they had tended gardens, beehives, a nursery and a printshop in which we all did our bit. There are details that expose your utter ignorance of how family life was back in those days, your ignorance of how people spoke, what they ate, etc. And you really ought to know that type-setters do not melt down lead. I never did so, nor did I visit the out of the way places you have dreamt up. You are mistaken, Luis Puenzo, and badly mistaken at that, for these were no "toughs" or "roughnecks". They were cultivated men, working men. Their language was not the dirty talk you present. It is only to be expected and unremarkable that the gutter press should concoct and exaggerate the police charges and play down the ideological component of the fight against fascism and the militarism that dominated in those days. But, Puenzo, you are a good director, an Oscar-winner, known the world over : Is that not enough for you? Let somebody else write the screenplay, then, someone with a good feeling for language; someone conversant with and objective about the events of the 1930s and who won't do what you have done: conjure up individuals "all whipped up like a meringue", as the tango writer has it. You make little of us and you offend us all, even the family members who had nothing to do with anarchist beliefs. At barely 22 years old, with his siblings and the family lawyer urging him to sign a petition for clemency to be forwarded to Uriburu, Paulino refused, saying "An anarchist does not sue a tyrant for mercy". Don't you think that he deserved a modicum of respect and not to be depicted as a weakling? I appeal to your sense of decency, calling upon you to reflect upon the slight you have committed against both families, mine and Di Giovanni's, who cannot comprehend such perversity. On that basis, you have no right to use our names, surnames or nicknames or any term by which we might be identified. You are incapable of capturing the personality of those fighters who, by virtue of their culture and education, could have lived quiet lives and yet opted for the heroic life for the sake of their ideal.
A biography of di Giovanni, entitled Anarchism and Violence by Oswaldo Bayer is available from Elephant Editions: BM Elephant, London, WC1 N 3XX £4.95
LAST TANGO IN BUENOS AIRES
(the aftermath of the Di Giovanni affair)
After Severino Di Giovanni and Paulino Scarfó faced the firing squad, the activities of the expropriator anarchists in Argentina were inevitably curtailed. There followed a flurry of arrests and trials with very heavy sentences handed down, whilst the few who managed to escape the repression fled to Uruguay or tried to get out to Europe. Without doubt, the two executions - which failed to inspire the campaign such as Sacco and Vanzetti had inspired three years before - signalled the end of an era for the anarchist movement. The fate of all who were caught up, in whatever capacity, in this tragedy was marked by it and, for good or for ill, tellingly influenced by it.
Even in death, Severino knew no peace. He was hurriedly , angrily and secretly buried in an unmarked grave in the vast Chacarita cemetery, so huge that it was known as the "city of the dead", but, the very next day, police found red flowers placed on his grave. The Interior Minister ordered that the body be exhumed and dumped in a common grave, yet even that was mysteriously decorated with red roses day after day. Then, with the passage of time, his memory faded. even though it has been said that Severino was cremated and his ashes scattered in the River Plate. This may well be one of the many legends that have grown up around his name.
The police had the same fate in mind for Paulino Scarfó too, but his family resolutely opposed this and his mother finally ensured that her son (killed at just 20 years of age) rested in peace. The Scarfó family, of course, was the hardest hit. They severed their connections with Fina (Josefina), so much so that her grandfather never spoke to her again and never forgave her for the loss of his beloved grandson. The entire family promptly relocated to a district on the far side of Buenos Aires. Fina's eldest brother, dismissed out of hand by the English firm for which he was working, was forced to learn a new trade. With the passage of time, Fina's mother forgave her daughter but continued to curse the name of the fair-haired devil who had robbed her of three of her children. There is a story - related in poetic fashion by Maria Luisa Magnanoli in her splendid novel, A Very Sweet Coffee, that on the night when Paulino was tried, Mrs Scarfó left the house and wandered through the half-deserted streets as far as the centrally located and renowned Plaza de Mayo. She arrived outside the Casa Rosada, the presidential residence and on impulse resolved to play one last card. She crossed the entire square on her knees, just the same way that she had seen her Calabrian elders (she had been born in Tropea, Italy) suing the Madonna for a favour, and to the amazement of the sentries climbed the steps to the presidential residence, still on her knees. But unfortunately for her the President was away on a visit to Rosario and Santa Fe and never heard the pleas of a mother whose 20 year old son, led astray by "an anarchist in black", was scheduled for execution. Paulino would definitely have rejected any pardon, just as he had refused to receive any visitors. He refused even to see his mother before he was shot. America Josefina (Fina), cut off by her family, and having abandoned her husband Silvio Astolfi, her husband of convenience, whom she had married just to be with Severino, completed her education and graduated in literature, specialising, as her "blond lover" had wished, in Italian Literature. She remarried a libertarian intellectual and found work initially with a publishing house before turning to teaching. In 1951, twenty years on from the tragedy, she visited Italy and the land of her forebears: she also visited Chieti, Severino's native town, but failed to trace any of his relations. These days she is an elegant, refined 83 year old lady living in Buenos Aires, withdrawn and reserved: she has always angrily rejected lucrative offers from Hollywood producers eager to turn her life into a movie. Alejandro Scarfó was released from prison sometime in 1934-35. A deep-seated bitterness was a feature of his life: abandoned by his relations and indeed by his fiancee, he vanished into the grey existence of day to day life.
After serving his lengthy term, Silvio Astolfi returned to Europe and carried on with his antifascist activity: he was killed during the civil war in Spain. Teresina Masculli, Severino's wife married again to an Italian who went on to become a journalist. Nothing is known of their children: perhaps, unable to carry the burden of such a heavy inheritance, and as their mother wished, they changed their names.
Lieutenant Juan Carlos Franco, the defence counsel assigned to Severino during the trial in which he did his best to do his duty, was stripped of his rank, expelled from the army and committed to a military prison. In March 1931 the then Minister of War, General Francisco Medina, ordered that he be released and expelled from Argentina. Franco moved to Asunción in Paraguay where he turned to journalism. In October 1932, thanks to a pardon from the incoming president, he returned to his homeland, was accepted back into the army and had his rank restored but was posted to an obscure provincial garrison. He died in February 1934 at the age of 35, possibly of malarial fever.
Diego Abad de Santillán made his way back to Spain where he occupied high offices in the CNT, even acting as its general secretary: he then held ministerial office under the republican government during the civil war. After the war was lost he went into exile, initially in Mexico and then returned to Argentina. He wrote several books on his political experiences and about the anarchist expropriators. He died in 1970.
Aldo Aguzzi, the Italian anarchist director of La Antorcha and Crítica, who always defended Di Giovanni, fought in the Spanish civil war and fled back to Argentina after defeat. He committed suicide in 1941.
Nicola Recchi, represented by some as the "theoretician", the inspiration behind the activities of the anarchist expropriators, was arrested in January 1930 and, during police interrogation, subjected to extreme torture. His tormentors made such a mess of his hands that his right hand, reduced to a lump of bloodied flesh, had to be amputated. They say that he never uttered a single name and that he stubbornly denied every one of the fifty charges preferred against him. After a ghastly time in prison, he slipped into the shadows after he was released and was forgotten by everyone by the time of his death in Buenos Aires in 1987.
Jorge Tamayo Gavilán, the Chilean who only came alive when he was dicing with death, the man destined to be Di Giovanni's successor, was killed in as yet obscure circumstances when police raided the hotel where he was staying in July 1931. After the death of his leader he had carried out two risky hold-ups: in the course of the second of them he killed three police officers. In order to avenge Severino, Gavilán orchestrated and may well have carried out in person the killing of Major Rosasco, the Buenos Aires police chief. On 12 June 1931, having rallied what was left of Severino's gang, Gavilán entered the restaurant where Rosasco was having dinner along with some other bigwigs and politicians. The four-man gang ordered a meal, sat down to it and coolly waited until the target had finished his meal. Just as Major Rosasco was about to begin his dessert, one gang member, possibly Gavilán himself, went over to his table and with exasperating sluggishness, as witnesses were to recall, drew a .45 Colt and fired two well-aimed shots into the major. One final, horrific act of homage to Severino.
Miguel Arcángel Roscigna, Severino's bosom buddy from Uruguay, the man whom the historian Oswaldo Bayer reckons was the cleverest, best-equipped, bravest and, as we would say these days "most political" of all the anarchist expropriators, vanished mysteriously in early January 1936. Roscigna's political programme was the most ambitious and also the most sophisticated programme ever devised by armed anarchism. His aim was to link up all the South American anarchist groups and establish ongoing ties with the European anarchists, with the Spaniards in particular. It was no accident that Buenaventura Durruti and Paco Ascaso, the two renowned Catalan anarchist leaders, felt, so to speak "at home" in Argentina. Roscigna argued that armed actions were but one of many illegal fighting methods and, in his idealistic naivete, was confident , for example, that capitalism could be brought down by passing counterfeit money, since this struck at its very heart. Tracked down by the police who considered him their number one enemy, he fled to Montevideo, where he was arrested in 1933. Together with Andrés Vázquez Paredes, someone by the name of Paz and the Italian Fernando Malvicini, he served nearly four years of penal servitude. The Argentinean courts sued for his extradition, which was, however, not granted. However, in complete secrecy, a couple of police officers agreed to deal of these dangerous anarchists once and for all. The arrangement was that the four anarchists would be expelled from Uruguay as undesirables. They would, of course, be herded in the direction of the Argentinean border where delivery would be taken of them by Dr Fernández Bazán, the new chief of police in Buenos Aires. On 31 December 1935, all four left prison and were ferried to the border in a Black Maria. At which point, all trace of them vanishes. A reliable reconstruction has them loaded on to an Argentinean military aircraft and dumped, still living, into the River Plate. Thereby inaugurating a method of disposing of political opponents that in more recent times the goons of General Videla would proceed to implement on a systematic and massive scale.
The tragic epic of anarchist expropriation was laid to rest with Roscigna. "We cannot defend them", Diego Abad de Santillán stated, but nor can we ignore them and of necessity mentioning them these days does not meaning praising their criminal acts any more than it exorcises them as if they were devils incarnate.
Antonio Orlando (1996) [adapted]
How to lose friends?
'What's this nonsense?' I said. 'Get out on parade.' they stood to attention, as was right when an officer addressed them, and not a man moved. I walked up to one man I knew well. 'You, Thomas Atkins,' I said, addressing him by his name, 'I'm ordering you to go on parade.' he stood still, looking through me as if I wasn't there. What more could I do? No one man can make eight men obey him if they are resolved to disobey.
C. Carrington, Soldiers returning from the war, (London, Hutchinson, 1965). the author is describing his experience as an officer confronted with a one-day mutiny of British troops in Italy, immediately after the armistice (1945). Quoted in Dave Lamb, "Mutinies: 1917-1920" (Solidarity).
New Publication
Abolishing the Borders from Below is an 'Anarchist courier from Eastern Europe'. Two issues have appeared so far.
If you operate in Eastern Europe, send info to: abolishingBB@hotmail.com. If you want to help distribute it in other parts of the world email aldi@rocknriot.zzn.com. I can't see a 'real world' address — but if you want to send them publications, money or other forms of support — the above addresses may be able to help.
New KSL website
This edition of the KSL bulletin is slightly delayed, because we've been working on our new website. Our new webmaster, Joseph, has designed it to be fast to load and accessible to anyone, whatever technology they're using. The new site contains all the material from the previous one, but hopefully will be easier to remember:
http://www.katesharpleylibrary.org/index.htm
It also carries also extra bulletins:
http://www.katesharpleylibrary.org/bulletin/kslbarch.htm
As well as a small collection of online documents:
http://www.katesharpleylibrary.org/docindex.htm
The site also has details on all KSL publications, as well as other titles which we distribute:
http://www.katesharpleylibrary.org/bulletin/publications.htm
We already have plans to extend the website — more online documents, reviews of our publications (more welcome, whether you love them or hate them), biographical info on some of our authors etc. — so we welcome ideas for what else you'd like to see or feeback on what's already there to info@katesharpleylibrary.net
Bulletin produced May 2002.
KSL: Bulletin of the Kate Sharpley Library
ISSN 1475-0309
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