Alibi Flashback

alibi flashback

V.29 No.33 | 8/13/2020

Alibi Flashback

What Is Going On At Weekly Alibi?

Let’s catch up on why we’ve changed up the formula

Since 1992 Weekly Alibi has been a staple of Albuquerque. As we were at the start of this year, as a whole, we were unprepared for a global pandemic that would shut down almost all entertainment and outings. It’s safe to say most everyone was in that boat, in one form or another. So what is the number one go-to newspaper for things to do in the city left to do but shift focus?
V.24 No.51 | 12/17/2015


Alibi Flashback: John Trudell speaks

Our 1994 interview with the late poet and activist

Way back in the time before time (which is to say, 1994), Bill and Charlene Sewady talked with the poet, activist and hero. This seems like an appropriate time to reach back into the archives and revisit that interview.
V.22 No.51 | 12/19/2013
V.14 No.40 • October 6-12, 2005


Alibi Flashback: Billy Jack in New Mexico

2005 Tom Laughlin interview

Actor-director Tom Laughlin will probably forever be less famous than his creation, ass-kicking pacifist Billy Jack, but that’s to be expected as, by all accounts, Laughlin pretty much was Billy Jack. He died this past weekend at age 82, but back in 2005 Alibi’s Devin O’Leary got a chance to chat with him about his pioneering indie film productions. An excerpt:

Billy Jack and The Trial of Billy Jack were both shot in New Mexico. What brought you here?

It was both Arizona and New Mexico. When Billy Jack was halfway through, Sam Arkoff [president of AIP] tried to screw me and Dolores on the picture—really tried something rotten and evil. So we shot the picture and worked on a deal to buy him out. At that time, the Academy Awards were on and all the state governments had their film commissions trying to hustle you to come shoot in their state. We had shot half of it in Arizona already, just because it was closer to us in Los Angeles. They had a big meeting. The governor [of New Mexico] came out. He'd been partying a bit the night before. He came out in his stocking feet. He saw Dolores there and he quickly changed. He comes out and he says, “I want you to finish this in New Mexico. What do you need?” She says, “I need helicopters for a week.” He says, “You got 'em!” She listed everything. “You got it! You got it!” Well, we couldn't say no to that. Later on, guys on the [film] commission, after he gave us all those, they really ripped him. They said, “You stupid idiot, those helicopters cost us 150 bucks an hour.” But in any event, the locations in both places were spectacular.

You can read the rest of the interview with Tom Laughlin in our back issue department.

V.21 No.39 | 9/27/2012
V.8 No.51 • December 23-29, 1999


Alibi Flashback: The original “Two-Minute Criminal” story

In last week's ginormous 20th Anniversary issue, former news editor Dennis Domrzalski namechecked this story as his favorite during his three years at the Alibi. After the AAN Altweeklies Wire picked up the story-about-the-story today, it seemed appropriate to unearth the original piece for posterity. Incidentally, Mr. Bralley now runs a (pretty darned good) citizen photojournalism blog focusing on local politics.

The Two-Minute Criminal

APD Officer in Big Trouble For Talking Longer Than Two Minutes

by Dennis Domrzalski

Publication date: December 23, 1999

Albuquerque police officer Mark Bralley can be annoying and a pain in the ass to his superiors and to government officials. When he was president of the Albuquerque Police Officers’ Association 1986 , he angered Police Department officials when he charged that the Department was run like a patron system. Also in the ‘80s, Bralley won a case against the Department in which he charged that he was improperly denied a job that he had tested for. This past April, Bralley infuriated the city’s Police Oversight Commission and Police Department officials when he flashed his badge at POC members during one of their meetings and alleged that they were violating the state’s open meetings law. This summer Bralley went to court with allegations that the POC had violated the open meetings law. He won the case. A judge ruled that the POC had indeed run afoul of the anti-secrecy law.

In his 23 years as an APD officer Bralley has been what bureaucracies, and certainly police departments, abhor: someone who isn’t afraid to speak his mind and to speak his mind in public.

But now, according to APD honchos, Bralley has crossed the line and has gone from being a mere annoyance and pain in the ass, to being a criminal. Because of his most recent actions Bralley faces the possibility of being disciplined or fired. APD big shots have launched two internal affairs investigations against him on charges of disorderly conduct, battery and bringing dishonor to APD. During a hearing for one of those internal affairs investigations APD officers dragged Bralley’s attorney out of the interview room.

What has Bralley done to be investigated for disorderly conduct and battery? What has he done to go from law enforcer to suspected criminal, to go from good cop to bad cop?

He has committed the heinous crime of talking for longer than two minutes at a meeting of the Police Oversight Commission. Bralley, in what one attorney in town called a case of “rolling stupidity” is facing a potentially career-ending investigation because in the United States of America, in the freest nation on the planet, he spoke at a public meeting of a government commission for longer than two minutes. Make no mistake, officer Mark Bralley has violated the two-minute rule.

The strange case reached its bizarre climax on the morning of Dec. 2 when was Bralley was being questioned about his actions by APD Internal Affairs Sgt. John Gallegos. Weekly Alibi attended the interview at Bralley’s request. During that meeting, Gallegos and other APD officers dragged Bralley’s attorney, Paul Livingston, out of the room because he, in Gallegos’ opinion was talking too much and was interrupting the meeting. Livingston had objected to a question that Gallegos had asked his client. And he was ejected for objecting and for allegedly disrupting the interview even though Gallegos had told him at the beginning of the meeting that he was welcome to interject at any time. It was while Gallegos and other officers were dragging Livingston out of the room on the first floor of the old City Hall building Downtown that Bralley got into more trouble. He placed his hand on Gallegos’ shoulder, in an attempt, he said, to calm Gallegos down. Gallegos didn’t see it that way, and now, Bralley is the focus of a second IA investigation in which he is accused of battery on and interfering with a police officer.

To be sure, not everyone has taken Bralley’s side on the matter. Some people think that Bralley is out to destroy the POC, which is charged with implementing civilian oversight of the Police Department. Bralley denied that charge. He said he believes in civilian oversight and that he challenges the POC only when they screw up.

POC member Fred Ward was pleased to hear that Bralley was being investigated for talking for longer than two minutes at the Nov. 8 POC meeting.

“I totally agree,” Ward said when told of Bralley’s situation. “They (Bralley and Livingston) have no respect for the chairperson. They are there for no other reason than to antagonize the board. I think they are a disgrace.”

POC member Susan Seligman said that Bralley and Livingston have spent nine months disrupting POC meetings. “They interrupt the meetings constantly. They speak longer than their allotted time,” Seligman said.

In fact, Seligman recently bore the brunt of Livingston’s ire when he called her and other POC members Nazis. She filed a complaint against him with the New Mexico State Bar Association. The Bar Association concluded that Livingston had done nothing wrong.

Jennie Lusk, who is also a POC member, said she wasn’t surprised to hear that Livingston had been physically removed from the room during Bralley’s IA interview. “He is so ill-behaved. He can make things a lot harder for Mark,” Lusk said. When asked whether the POC’s rule that no one can speak for longer than two minutes during a meeting was reasonable, Lusk said that Bralley and Livingston would violate a time limit no matter how long it was.

“I so much believe in their right to speak and I so much endorse that the Commission hear what their concerns are,” Lusk said, “But I have never seen two people who are more disrespectful of the process of the basic function of government. No matter how long they have to speak they are going to overstep it.”

But attorney Dave Cargo, who watched a video tape of Bralley’s Internal Affairs investigation, said the situation amounted to a case of “rolling stupidity.”

“It’s kind of drumhead justice. ‘You have a right to a lawyer and all of a sudden a hand reaches in and you see the guy’s (Livingston’s) shoes go out the door.,” Cargo said. the former New Mexico governor was also critical of the POC’s two-minute rule for speakers. “If you are going to have public input you have to have a little patience with the public, and two minutes is not reasonable. He (Bralley) has some position and credibility. It’s not like he just dropped in from a homeless shelter. Bralley spends a lot of time studying this stuff and a lot of times he is right.”

The Beginning: Nov 8

The case began on Nov. 8 when a sullen-looking Bralley attended the POC meeting in the City Council chambers in City Hall. He had signed up to speak during the public comments portion of the meeting. When his name was called he walked to the podium and addressed POC Chairperson Jill Marron.

“My name is Mark Bralley. I’m an Albuquerque police officer,” Bralley said. “I am here to protest the two-minute rule on speech and public comments (and) your expression of disgust for certain people who come before you, the people who go to work, who work the streets at night when you’re not willing to be out there traveling around, but they’re out there making them safe so you can if you had to.”

Bralley then went on to tell Marron that he resented her statements that the lawsuit he filed against the POC and won was a bad thing. “The lawsuit has been dealt with. The judge has ruled that you acted improperly and that is a good thing,” Bralley said.

[There] is not free speech in this office. … You have no right to free speech in this office, Mr. Livingston.

—APD Sgt. John Gallegos

At one point, a bell rang, signaling that Bralley’s two minutes to speak were up. Bralley continued talking. Later, Marron interrupted him. “You’re two minutes are up,” she said.

“I’m not finished speaking,” Bralley replied.

After he had spoken for nearly six minutes, Marron interrupted him again. “I’m not sure what your point is,” she said. “But all I have to say about this is I’m glad Ms. Seligman filed the complaint against Mr. Livingston. I’m embarrassed he is a member of the bar and acts the way he does.” Marron then called for security to intervene in the matter.

Bralley was ready for her. “If you think that my standing here and talking to you about an issue that is pertinent to this discussion constitutes disorderly conduct and disruption of a public meeting, you are in error,” Bralley said.

“It does,” Marron replied. “I have asked you to sit down. I have asked you to cease.”

“No sir,” Bralley said. “I won’t.”

A city security guard approached Bralley, who then said, “We have a deputy chief (Bill Weiland) here. If he thinks I am out of order he can order me to sit down. If he thinks that I am violating the First Amendment he can order me to sit down.”

Weiland did just that and ordered Bralley to sit down. And it was Weiland, who used to head up APD’s Internal Affairs Unit, who filed the complaint against Bralley that accused him of disorderly conduct and conduct unbecoming of a police officer.

Police Chief Jerry Galvin said he could not discuss the specifics of Bralley’s case because it was an internal investigation and a personnel matter. But Galvin did say that talking for longer than two minutes during a public meeting could be improper conduct for a police officer.

“An officer on and off-duty is certainly under scrutiny depending on what they do,” Galvin said. “If they are disorderly and bring the Department into disrepute, certainly we are going to investigate that. an officer’s conduct on and off duty that brings the department into disrepute and is a violation of the law is going to be investigated by the Department.”

The Internal Affairs Interview

Sgt. John Gallegos’ office on the first floor of the old City Hall building Downtown is small, about 8 feet by 10 feet, has cream-colored walls that make the room look yellow. Gallegos appeared ready for Bralley and Livingston at 10 a.m. on Dec. 2. He had a tape recorder set up on his desk ready to record the interview. APD Sgt. Levi Anaya was also in the room to help with the questioning. the meeting got off to a bad start when Gallegos, in an off-the-record comment, explained to Bralley and Livingston how he conducted his interviews. Here is a transcript of that conversation:

JG: Before we go on the record, before we go on my record, what I do, my interviews, I’d like to explain my interview process. At the beginning I’ll read Garrity (a recitation of a police officer’s rights regarding internal investigations). I’ll ask. I ask if you want to read your warnings and we’ll identify everybody in the room. is Mr. Livingston acting as your legal representative or just an observer?

MB: To clarify that I’m entitled to two representatives and whether they are legal or not legal—

JG: What I mean, is he going to be talking and making objections and that stuff or is he going to be a quiet observer?

MB: No, a representative, under the (police union) contract, is entitled to speak at any point.

JG: “I understand that. Will he be speaking?

MB: Yes.

JG: OK. Thank you.

PL: Yes, I will be speaking, probably extensively.


PL: I often speak ...

JG: Mr. Livingston, what I’m going to do is I’m going to remain in control of this meeting and what we will do is, at any time I will give everybody the opportunity to say something at the beginning, after officer Bralley reads his card and any opening dialogue or dissertation he wants to go through. I will offer all of you that opportunity as well. and then once that is done and is reasonable and in a relatively reasonable time, we’ll go into, I’ll ask officer Bralley about the incident specifically. After he explains the incident to me we’ll go through a question and answer thing, until I run out of questions or he runs out of answers, whatever. At any time that either of you want to interject, please do so. However, if the interjections become to the point of disrupting the meeting or if I feel like I’m starting to lose control of the meeting. I mean of the interview, then I will stop these interjections and we will break it and bring it back down.

No Free Speech at Internal Affairs

PL: Are we on the record?

JG: No.

PL: I’d like to hear this on the record, or I’d like to have it on the record.

MB: there is a record going (referring to his digital video camera that was set up in the room).

JG: You’ve got your record going.

PL: I’d like to have this on your record. I think this is something I need to respond to and I would like to have it on your record.

JG: OK, great. You’ll have that opportunity when I give you your opportunity to speak on the record.

MB: What he is saying is that he wants the statement you just made on your record for the formality of—

JG: The neat thing about that is it’s my record. I’ll decide what’s on it, OK?

PL: (Inaudible)

JG: Thank you Mr. Livingston. See what I mean about disturbing. I’m not going to tolerate this, sir.

PL: This is about free speech.

JG: No sir.

PL: This is a case about free speech.

JG: This is not free speech in this office. This is an administrative investigation. I will give you your opportunity to speak. You have no right to free speech in this office, Mr. Livingston.

PL: I have a right to common civility.

JG: But you do not have a right ...

PL: You don’t let me finish when I say something.

JG: Sir.

PL: I have a right to common civility.

JG: Sir.

PL: I’m talking and you’re interrupting. That’s not common civility.

JG: First warning. You interrupt me again and you will be asked to leave. Do you understand.

PL: No. I don’t understand. I’m officer Bralley’s legal representative.

JG: And you will be asked to leave and you will be forced to leave if you disturb the meeting.

PL: Will I be arrested?

JG: No. You will be forced to leave, and if your conduct supports an arrest ...

PL: I would like this on the record.

JG: You’ve got the record. Sir, I decide what’s on my record, OK?

PL: I think it should be on the record.

JG: We’re done.

PL: I don’t think we’re going to respond to whatever you are saying now.

JG: Sir, do not interrupt me.”

On the Record and Immediate Tension

A moment later Gallegos turned on his tape recorder and the official interview began. Gallegos asked Bralley if he understood that he could be fired for not answering questions. Bralley said he didn’t and he asked for a copy of the Garrity rights that Gallegos was reading. Gallegos untaped a piece of paper from his wall and handed it to Bralley, who started reading from it. a while later, Gallegos demanded the sheet of paper back.

JG: OK, stop officer Bralley. Give me this back.

MB: No sir.

JG: Give it back to me ... this is mine.

MB: The thing is ... it is very dangerous.

PL: Why are you doing this?

MB: You may not stop me

JG: Yes I may. I may ask for this back.

MB: You gave me ... an opportunity to respond to this statement and you asked me a question.

JG: And I’m asking for it back, officer Bralley.

MB: You asked me a question. You asked me a question which I am trying to answer.

JG: Officer Bralley I’m warning you of insubordination. Be quiet at this point.

MB: No sir.

JG: Yes. Are you refusing? That is an order. Are you refusing to cooperate with my investigation?

MB: The thing is, I am trying to cooperate.

JG: Release my paper. Officer Bralley, that is an order. ...”

Livingston is Dragged Out

At one point, Gallegos told Bralley that he was under investigation for disorderly conduct and for conduct unbecoming of a police officer. Gallegos then asked Bralley if he understood the allegations. It was then that Livingston interrupted and the process began which led to his ejection from the meeting.

PL: Before he answers ... and I don’t want to interrupt him.

JG: Mr. Livingston I told you I would give you an opportunity to speak and I explained to you the structure of that order.

PL: But before my client answers another question I need an opportunity to speak responsibly to the last issue and you didn’t let me do that. I thought you would. Every time he speaks I should at least have an opportunity to say something otherwise you are going to do exactly the same thing that the Police Oversight Commission has done to us. Let me—

JG: Mr. Livingston, be quiet.

PL: Let me.

JG: Be quiet.

PL: Let me place—

JG: Sir, this is your first warning at this moment.

PL: Oh, come on.

JG: You will be asked—

PL: This is nonsense, what are you doing?

JG: You will be asked to leave, sir.

PL: You’re trying to treat me the same way the POC treats me.

JG: Mr. Livingston, please keep quiet. Sir this is your second, this is your second warning.

PL: And you’re going to count from 10 to one and then explode, or what?

JG: Sir, sir, third warning.

PL: Oh, stop this.

JG: You need to leave the meeting, sir.

PL: No I don’t.

JG: Yes you do. Sir, you have disrupted an internal investigation. You need to leave right now.

PL: I have not disrupted an internal investigation. I’m trying to finish a sentence.

JG: (To Sgt. Anaya) Would you get the lieutenant and somebody else to escort Mr. Livingston out of the meeting please.

PL: Please stop that.

Gallegos asked Livingston to leave the office and told Bralley to “be quiet” when he objected to Livingston’s ejection. Gallegos left the room. He eventually returned with other officers. He ordered Livingston to leave one more time. When Livingston refused, the officers, including Gallegos grabbed him and tried to pull him out of his chair.

PL: Wait a minute, what are you doing? What is wrong with you?

JG: Officer Bralley, unhand me.

MB: You’re committing a battery.

JG: Unhand me.

MB: You’re committing a battery.

JG: Unhand me. ... Stand up and leave.

PL: Who are you?

JG: Leave this office now.

PL: Let me see your identification.

JG: You’re not helping me. Stand up.

PL: I don’t want to stand up. I’m in the typical civil rights position of resisting a civil arrest.

JG: Sit down officer Bralley. That’s an order. Sit down.

MB: You don’t have a right to do this.

JG: You’re being insubordinate. Sit down.

MB: I don’t recognize your authority.

PL: I don’t really want to be thrown out ... what are you doing to me?

JG: You unhand me officer Bralley. You touch me again, you will be booked. You understand me? Don’t you dare touch me.

A Final Irony

After Livingston had been dragged out of the room, Gallegos returned and resumed the interview. Bralley said he did not want to continue because of his emotional state.

JG: I respect your opinion, officer Bralley. Section five. You have the right to consult with counsel before each question.

The investigation continues.

V.21 No.38 | 9/20/2012
Brendan Doherty


I was the right degenerate for the job: beg, borrow, steal and pretend your way to the top.

It was the very early 90s. Hair metal bands still freely roamed the earth. Albuquerque emerged as the premier destination for national tour kickoffs for Ozzy Osbourne, Ratt, and Warrant. Venues like the water-slides west of the freeway became top 40 lightning filled disasters. The “underground,” as it was, consisted of the Fat Chance and Club Wreck, where a great but sparse list of bands like Cracks in the Sidewalk, the Strawberry Zots, Broadway Elks, Jerry’s Kidz, Eric McFadden and the Ant Farmers played.

Following my hasty exit from Mama Mia’s restaurant, precipitated by the manager figuring out the wait staff’s scam of using Entertainment cards to skim cash, I began working at Fred’s Bread on Central Avenue. First as a dishwasher, then as a coffee slave, it was a way to pay the bills while I played drums in a trio, Elephant, and occasionally went to UNM. And one day, a scruffy weasel of an entrepreneur came in for a conversation that would change my life.

He had just sold his paper, The Onion, moved from Wisconsin, started an alt weekly in Albuquerque, and would I like to write music reviews? Borrowing new releases from the very kind and nervous owner of Natural Sound, we were off and running. It turns out that there were a lot of people ready to read poorly written reviews of obscure records they would never hear. More importantly, a little advance news of shows was enough to begin to drive a musical movement.

Like a lot of “overnight successes,” all of the ingredients were there already. Pushing against MTV-driven corporate music, bands from across the country—Fugazi (Washington, D.C.), Sonic Youth (NY), Mudhoney and Nirvana (Seattle), underground newspapers were suddenly relevant to the soon to be named Gen Xers (bladdy fucking blah) who had looked into the general culture and found that old-line magazines, newspapers and television were incapable of being tattooed or pierced.

Instead of being the hometown of Ozzy’s drummer, Glen Campbell, or that guy who played second guitar in The Motels, Albuquerque was changing from a metal-driven, LA-derivative place dominated by big bars in the Northeast Heights, dominated by a very Cosa Nostra promoter and TJ Trout as tastemaker, to one where downtown and the University was its cultural center. Scads of bands started popping up, and venues did as well. The Sunshine, the Dingo, the very illegal firetrap that was Club Hell, and the Dingo Bar opened. Existing venues like B.O. revamped their tired Cure + Bauhaus = Big City disco to build a very dangerous stage 15 feet off of the ground. Guralnick built the Outpost. From these little sparks, Resin Records and a cadre of bands- BigDamnCrazyWeight, Allucaneat, Elephant, Cracks in the Sidewalk and many many others played host to the bands that were driving through New Mexico, willing to play for gas money or bagels from Fred’s.

Helmet played the Outpost. Nirvana played a very empty house party in Santa Fe. Dinosaur Jr. played Bow Wow Records. The Butthole Surfers and the Flaming Lips played UNM. From other parts of the country, people talked about the interesting, cheap and friendly spot we were becoming. People moved from across the country to be a part of the music scene, and students at UNM from other places started their own bands.

For a moment, music and live performance seemed to tear at the fabric of culture, revealing something substantial underneath, and it began to gain its own momentum–not just in music, but in film, art, photography, and so on. The group of kids that shuffled in and out of Fred's Bread and Bagel, Bow Wow Records, and the like began to refine their craft. Some of them got it right.

Elephant found another drummer after I quit. I formed the Drags with CJ Stritzel and Robby Poore. I quit that band and concentrated on my writing, ultimately writing for every outlet in the Southwest with a circulation greater than 10,000, and then got married and moved to San Francisco. Joe Anderson, a former bandmate started his own clubs: Launchpad, Sunshine Theater and Low Spirits.

People graduated college and moved on. Or they didn’t. Others took their place.

Recently, some of those bands stuffed themselves into their old wedding dress and dragged out the old hits in a show I would have loved to see.

Threads and connections started in the ghetto connect this early group to the latest and perhaps most influential iteration (now enabled more by the Internet than anything), including Zach Condon of Beirut, Jeremy Barnes of A Hawk and a Hacksaw (Neutral Milk Hotel), and James Mercer (The Shin).

Here is to another interesting twenty years.

From 1991-2002, Brendan Doherty contributed hundreds of articles and record reviews to the NuCity and then the Alibi. He has contributed to 35 newspapers, 40 free weeklies, the Associated Press, UPI, the Journal, the Albuquerque Tribune, New Mexico Magazine, and others. He wrote a guidebook about New Mexico for John Muir Press, and was a staff writer at the New Mexico Business Weekly. In addition, he was the healthcare and biotechnology reporter at the San Francisco Business Times. He is currently driving a minivan, raising two girls and five chickens while living on an island in the Bay Area, and working in public relations at Kaiser Permanente, the nation’s largest integrated health care system.

Lauri Sagle is an instructor of English at the University of Hawai’i and the recipient of the Chancellor’s Award for Teaching Excellence. She is a core contributor to the English department and an integral member of the women’s studies department. She left the Alibi on December 28, 1994.


One of the Alibi’s earliest editors remembers the olden days.

The early days of The Alibi, then known as NuCity (before a Chicago publication with a phonetically identical name threatened to rip out all of our editorial teeth), were the types of days that every flash-of-genius writer chortles over when he's being interviewed by Oprah about his sizzling debut novel, or every tech guru recalls as she laughingly characterizes her time spent paying her dues before the Big Brilliant Idea that Changed Technology ForEver. They were days of subsisting on Fred's bagels (since we mostly got paid in "bagel bucks" instead of cash); working (sometimes even crashing) in a hot office box with Department of Health condemnable carpet; and simply assuming, with the nearly impervious certainty of youth, that everything would get better, and that we'd have fun in the meantime.

But since I was a bit older (a UNM grad student) than the whippersnappers (freshly minted University of Wisconsin alumni who'd graduated at age 14 after starting the now-famous Onion and who then bounded over to Albuquerque to launch NuCity), maybe my perviousness was perviouser because a couple of symbolic events shook my sense of admittedly weak professionalism.

One came in the form of the "serious" debut of our politics issue. We'd worked hard on the format and content: local pols running for office had been profiled; corresponding election season events had been catalogued; illustrations had been applied to cleverly embellish the stories. I, as the Managing Editor/Editor, along with our Copy Editor at the time, had the last look through before giving the final approval. Perfect! So proud! So political! So grown up! Too bad about the blaring, mega-point headline that spelled the word "candidate" wrong, as we saw the next day before the issue inexorably hit the stands–a classic minor-major detail. The other folks at the paper who were psychologically healthier than I was just laughed it off, smoked a cigarette, and began laying out the next issue.

The second event actually came before the first one chronologically, but it had bigger ramifications at the time. We were applying for membership in AAN, the Association of Alternative Newsweeklies, and a group of us (Chris Johnson, Dan Scott, Landry? Dabney? O'Leary? Jonesy? Petersen?) had flown over to California with our precious offering–an issue that featured a solid, well-researched story by the inimitable Tim McGivern, illustrated by the swashbuckling Jason Waskey. We actually had to appear before a panel of AAN judges in an American Idol meets the North Korean Ministry of People's Security moment. And we were eviscerated. Bomblets like "juvenile" and "unprofessional" and "unworthy" were tossed about casually by people who were supposed to be cool! They had the word "alternative" in their dang title! Where was the encouragement, the pub invitation, the tender promise of mentorship? AAN was important since, through membership, we could use their big stories in our paper and they could pick up and circulate ours as well. It was the only time, to date, that a professional setback made me cry. One journalist in the judging group did attempt to defend us and spoke to us afterward as well. He was the lone African American on the panel and commended the diversity of our coverage. Chris and Dan lobbed a few choice expletives, laughed, said we'd be fine, and smoked some cigarettes.

They were right. We eventually did make it into AAN, now operating under the expanded 21st identity of Association of Alternative Newsmedia. "Canidates," both in title and in practice, are long forgotten. (Although we did once have an interesting conversation with at-the-time New Mexico Governor Gary Johnson, which presaged his perpetual libertarian presence on the national ticket ... but that's another story.) So while most of us, past and present, may not be Oprah dazzlers or tech zillionistas, we probably have better carpet now, and the Alibi still laughs, spits out an expletive here and there, maybe smokes a cigarette when the spouse isn't looking, and publishes onward.


The Alibi turns 20

Newspapers bind their every issue in big green archive books. Ours have been patiently waiting in the upstairs ghost town of our offices until a couple of weeks ago, when they were hauled into the light and scoured. The research for our 20th Anniversary Issue took us way too long because we kept stopping to read nearly every article.

On stands this week is a collector’s edition of the paper, a look back at two decades of the Alibi (née NuCity) and its best friend: Burque. I like the heft of the corporeal version, but you can, of course, dig through it digitally.


20 Years Ago ...

... Two young dudes from Wisconsin blew into town and made a newspaper. One of them, Chris Johnson, had launched The Onion in college and sold it. The other, Dan Scott, was the smartest guy Chris could think of to help create a new one. Two decades later, the newspaper you're reading is the newspaper Chris and Dan started.

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• The biweekly NuCity manages to claw out of the ethereal womb on Friday, Oct. 9, with 12 black-and-white pages of op-ed and event listings. Page 3 gives Burqueños their first taste of “Real Astrology” by Rob Brezsny (still published all these years later! See page 85). “¿El Norte?,” a column in Spanglish by Juan F. Quiroga, makes its debut. Natural Sound, the Dingo, Beyond Ordinary, Guild Theatre and La Montañita Co-op advertise in this historic issue. Bandido Hideout offers a coupon: beef or chicken tostadas with a drink for $1.95. Complete list of computer equipment owned by the company at that time: Powerbook 140, rented laser printer, Macintosh SE.

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Oh, the Characters

When I was hired at the Alibi in 1996, I was a small-town Wyoming girl of barely 22 with an associate's degree in journalism in my back pocket. I was young, naive and ready for the "big-city" life Albuquerque had to offer. My first initiation into Burque and my new job as associate editor was an Alibi personals party at the Dingo, where readers slathered one another in hot wax on stage and led their submissives around on dog collars. I was surrounded by tight, black leather, far from the cowboy bar scene I had recently fled, and vividly remember one man who wore nothing but a black garbage bag, white athletic socks and loafers. Oh, the characters you meet in Albuquerque.



• The paper holds its first-ever haiku contest. A review of R.E.M.’s Automatic for the People appears in an early music section. Soon-to-be Film Editor Devin D. O’Leary’s byline pops up atop graphic novel reviews. Fred’s Bread and Bagel advertises on the Club Calendar pages. Note: All NuCity contributors are paid in “Fred’s Bucks.” Home sales across the state are booming, and the paper can afford four more pages in each issue, pushing the count to 16.

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NuCity goes weekly on Jan. 11. The paper reprints a column from young Seattle writer Dan Savage on the CDC’s new AIDS-prevention marketing campaign. Eventual Web Monkey-in-Chief Kyle Silfer pens a column with the opening line, “There is this thing called the Internet, and it is swallowing up the universe.” Staffer Alma García goes to Ciudad Juárez to write about the Mexican presidential elections. Best of Burque is born. From the introduction: “51 weeks a year we snivel, revile, quibble and criticize this city that we live in, all under our very own directive of cynicism, humor, sarcasm and hope. But the simple facts remain: Many of us came here (on purpose!) to experience life in this town ... .”

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• We publish our first Gay Pride issue, as well as an epic gonzo-style interview with Hunter S. Thompson after two staffers follow the man through six days of chaos. NuCity changes its name to Weekly Alibi on Aug. 9 thanks to threat of legal action by Chicago’s New City newspaper, and we throw a party at the Sunshine Theater to celebrate. This includes a satirical “Miss Chicago” beauty contest and an “old-fashioned Chicago-style sausage toss.” This proves to be one of our most controversial events, with many Chicagoans claiming there’s no such thing as a “sausage toss.” Lousy sausage-tossers! The following Monday, 600 “Why I Hate Chicago” postcards are mailed to the New City publisher.

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• We launch our first website: The paper also sweats out its first Summer Guide, still appearing inside hot metal distribution boxes every May. Angie Drobnic Holan is a senior staff writer; she’ll go on to win a Pulitzer Prize in 2009 as part of the team behind The paper has a thriving news section and promises an election issue: “Weekly Alibi will present the 1996 general election in a manner only Albuquerque’s alternative press is capable of.” We throw a KISS tribute show at the Dingo Bar.

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• We launch the Weekly Alibi Music Awards (WAMmies), and Bovine plays the awards ceremony. Future Publisher Carl Petersen wins the Best Songwriter WAMmy for his work with the Ant Farmers. The first-ever Readers’ Choice Restaurant Poll hits stands. We buy La Cocinita, a food magazine started by Sergio Salvador. An article appears titled “Who Polices the Police?” about 25 police killings going before grand juries without resulting in a single indictment of an officer. Another story about 30 fatal officer-involved shootings within 10 years comes out in December.

• A group of protesters organized by Vecinos United demands an independent citizen review board to handle complaints about APD.

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