Reviews for Going Up the Country
Quick Lit Book Review: ‘Going Up the Country’ by Yvonne Daley
- Going Up the Country: When the Hippies, Dreamers, Freaks and Radicals Moved to Vermont by Yvonne Daley, University Press of New England, 288 pages. $19.95 paperback, $16.99 e-book.
Imagine that Vermont’s gambit to pay out-of-state telecommuters up to $10,000 to settle here catches fire. It’s not much more than a marketing stunt, but suspend disbelief for a moment: What if e-workers did come in droves? Would the hordes of pajama-clad work-from-homers unite and seize power?
If the idea of Vermont as a mobile-professional mecca seems remote, read Yvonne Daley‘s timely Going Up the Country: When the Hippies, Dreamers, Freaks and Radicals Moved to Vermont.The sixth book by a former longtime Rutland Herald and Boston Globe reporter, it chronicles Vermont’s last great mass migration, the so-called “hippie invasion” of the late ’60s and ’70s. That influx, coming after decades of population stagnation, also seemed improbable.
Between 1950 and 1960, 15,000 Vermonters between the ages of 20 and 44 left the state, Daley writes. From Brattleboro to St. Albans, residents wrung their hands over the economic impact of losing young workers to other states.
Soon Vermont media were sounding the alarm about an entirely different phenomenon: the arrival of tens of thousands of back-to-the-landers, disgruntled antiwar protestors, suburban drop-outs, socialists and communards.
According to Daley, “By 1970, approximately 35,800 hippies were estimated to be living in Vermont, representing 33 percent of the total population of 107,527 Vermont residents between the ages of eighteen and thirty-four.”
The Rutland-based author was one of those back-to-the-landers. Her book weaves the young transplants’ stories with analysis of the impact of this great migration on Vermont’s politics, culture and economy. As Daley notes, the émigrés steadily turned a state that had been solidly Republican into the progressive bastion that eventually launched the presidential campaign of Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.).
Over time, some socialists evolved into savvy and socially conscious capitalists. They gave birth to organic food and craft beer and green energy movements that today are integral to Vermont’s brand and big drivers of its economy. Daley explores other changes wrought by the new arrivals, too, including the flourishing of the music scene, the advent of women’s health clinics and the newcomers’ demands for stepped-up government services, such as better roads and schools.
Daley’s gaze does not overlook the darker side of the influx, including misogyny and drug abuse at some of the communes. She also explores tensions that endure today between natives and flatlanders, conservatives and liberals, and urban and rural folk. Indeed, many who’ve watched Vermont change report feeling colonized.
“The irony is that the people who came here espousing freedom turned into the controllers,” Daley quotes Thetford conservative and two-time unsuccessful gubernatorial candidate Ruth Dwyer as saying. “They won, we lost.”
Dwyer and others might be encouraged by Daley’s observation that nothing lasts forever. From Millerites to Swedenborgians to Garrisonians, utopian communities and reformist movements have come to Vermont, made waves and then disappeared.
A half-century after they arrived, the old hippies need new hips and other medical care. Many of their children have moved away.
“It all seemed like a good idea — the dome, the teepee, the house with the root cellar — these were a response to the rigidness of the fifties,” one now-adult child of a hippie told Daley. He lives in Texas. “My generation discovered that there’s not a huge job base in Vermont and taxes are high, so it’s hard to stimulate business.”
Vermont is still losing young people, employers struggle to find skilled workers — particularly in the emerging high-tech sector — and the state is attempting to lure e-workers with cash inducements.
Daley’s book makes one ponder the changes telecommuters are already making locally, as well as the accommodations the state might make for them in the future. In some quarters, there is already fierce debate about whether globe-trotting selectmen should be able to attend meetings via Skype. Going Up the Country suggests a new migration might well bolster Vermont’s prosperity, reshaping its communities and lifestyles in unexpected ways.
(Disclosure: James Bandler worked with Yvonne Daley at the Rutland Herald from 1990 to 1995.)
Brilliant New Book Shines Light on the ‘Invasion’ of Vt.
| MAY 24, 2018
BY M. D. DRYSDALE
Yvonne Daley’s just-published book tracing the impact of the counter-culture on Vermont is at once thoughtful, moving, important— and very funny.
“Going Up the Country,” with a forward by Tom Slayton, is the sixth book by Daley, who for decades has also been one of Vermont’s finest journalists. It turns out she was also one of the young out-of-staters who came to Vermont with talent, imagination, and progressive views.
It’s hard to know where to start in describing this marvelous book. The table of contents gives an outline: the “hippie invasion,” communes, progressive politics, a revolution in higher education, foods, women’s roles, creativity—and drugs.
At the center of the story are the communes that cropped up here, mostly in the ’70s, as young people attempted to find new ways of living. A reader soon discovers, however, that there was no such thing as a “typical” commune—although there were some very unconventional ones.
Their names give a hint of their character, including Total Loss Farm, Red Clover, Frog Run Farm, Earth Peoples Park, and dozens more. Daley describes them in intimate and fascinating detail.
Getting the most attention early in the book is the well-known commune in The Herald’s readership area—Quarry Hill in Rochester— which remains, she wrote, “Vermont’s oldest alternative-living community, with roughly 40 residents in 2017.”
Most everyone who lives in the Rochester area has heard any number of rumors about Quarry Hill. It was established by Irving Fiske and his wife Barbara as a writers’ retreat, but it became locally famous for sexual swapping.
Those rumors were not false.
“Quarry Hill was a world apart, almost free of rules,” Daley writes, where “hundreds of hippie kids over the years experienced what some described as an idyllic family life.
“It was a life in which sexual freedom trumped the rules that had been deeply ingrained in their psyches.”
However, she adds, “Others felt in retrospect as if they had been caught in Irving’s social experiment.”
As might be expected, the place evoked a range of opinions, and Daley explores them all in a dozen fascinating pages.
Invasion for the Good
“Going Up the Country” abounds in colorful descriptions of a dozen or so communes, but what makes the book important to Vermont history is Daley’s persuasive evidence that the “invasion” changed the very character of Vermont in fundamental ways—and, she argues, for the good.
Dozens of today’s well-known and productive Vermonters were part of the “invasion” and they made the state a different, more lively place, she believes.
The delicious story of Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream is only one of those productive “invaders.” Daley’s telling of the Ben Cohen/Jerry Greenfield story demonstrates the bright details that she brings to all her descriptions.
The two, she writes, “were born just four hours apart in 1951 at the same Brooklyn hospital, but didn’t meet until gym class in junior high where they got yelled at for running the mile too slow and were ordered to do it again.”
They began their venture in 1978 with the rental of an old garage for $12,000, with $4,000 of it borrowed, she writes.
The ice cream kings, though, were just a small part of their generation’s impact. Others included buying groups like the Onion River Co-op and companies like Gardener’s Supply, Green Mountain Coffee Roasters, Magic Hat Brewery, the employee-owned Carris Reels, and even the creation of the first women’s sports bra.
By the time Daley is done, we are thoroughly convinced that Vermont and Vermonters were well served by the “hippie invasion.”
The book is a fascinating history, but its greatest achievement is to introduce us to ourselves—in portraits of literally hundreds of Vermonters. The portraits and the stories that go with them are gripping and funny. They help you to understand, not only Vermont, but yourself.
Oh, and the Appendices
“Going Up the Country” offers 26 pages of appendices.
The first, and most unusual, features the names, by chapter, of all the songs mentioned in the book. They add up to well over 100 tunes which constitute an audio history of the years covered.
There’s another 10-page listing of all of Daley’s sources for the book, and another which lists alphabetically the more than 300 names referenced in the text.
Rutland journalist Yvonne Daley didn’t know she was receiving her latest assignment when a friend sent her a book about the 1960s and 1970s counterculture in the high desert of New Mexico.
“You should write this story in Vermont,” came the suggestion tucked alongside.
Daley seems the perfect candidate: She not only has penned five books and four decades of articles for publications ranging from her local Rutland Herald to Time and People magazines but also knows the counterculture firsthand, having traded a mainstream childhood in Boston to tend goats and a vegetable garden upon moving to the Green Mountain town of Goshen in 1967.
The result is Daley’s new book, “Going Up the Country: When the Hippies, Dreamers, Freaks, and Radicals Moved to Vermont,” a 288-page paperback just released by University Press of New England.
“This is the story of how thousands of young migrants, largely from the cities and suburbs of New York and Massachusetts, turned their backs on the establishment of the 1950s and moved to the backwoods, small towns and cities of rural Vermont,” the book begins, “spawning a revolution in lifestyle, politics, sexuality and business practices that would have a profound impact on both the state and the nation.”
Daley and her fellow baby boomers weren’t raised to rebel.
“We walked to school in relative safety, played outdoors in any kind of weather, watched American Bandstand after school,” she writes. “But these and other sweet aspects of the era mask the darker sides of a country trying to ignore the horrors of war and poverty, one in which women were relegated to home and jobs, not professions; a time when you were measured by your last name, your occupation, where you worshiped, the color of your skin, the cost of your car and home.”
Daley recalls saying goodbye to her high school sweetheart turned Vietnam War soldier one Easter Sunday, only to learn of his death less than a month later.
“Conformity defined us — and then it didn’t,” she writes of her generation, “And so, some of us said no. No to conformity, to suburbia and the ‘straight’ life, no to haircuts and ties and button-down collars, no to permanents and rollers and bras, no to nine-to-five and church on Sunday, no to segregation and bigotry.”
Daley has spent the past three years interviewing peers who settled everywhere from southern Vermont’s Total Loss Farm (deemed “one of the enduring communes and perhaps the most successful” by the Vermont Historical Society) to such Northeast Kingdom outposts as Earth People’s Park, Frog Run and Mullein Hill.
“I wanted to tell stories of people whose stories had not been told,” the author says. “Every time I would interview someone, they would tell me about 10 more people.”
Daley also offers personal perspective. She recalls feeling the pull of Vermont, even though her single childhood memory of it came when her father took a wrong turn during a family vacation in New Hampshire.
“I felt the belief to go back to the land,” she says. “Start over. Simplify.”
Then reality hit.
“We were kids from the suburbs. We didn’t know how to grow a tomato plant. What we were thinking?”
Daley learned, her gargantuan backyard garden attests. Many fellow transplants who stayed also found success, be it hippies turned household names Ben & Jerry or Bernie Sanders. But the author is careful to extend credit to longtime locals with deep roots.
“I think many of the values the counterculture had were already inherent in Vermont,” she says. “Even though there was some blowback, we were treated so graciously and taught so much.”
Adds fellow journalist Tom Slayton in the book’s foreword: “Waves of immigrants from French Canada, Italy, Sweden, Scotland, Germany, and, most recently, eastern Europe and the Middle East, have transformed the state’s pedigree over and over again,” he writes. “The countercultural ‘invasion’ of the 1970s was simply one more influx of immigrants, one that, like previous waves of newcomers, encountered some suspicion and resistance at first, but was accepted and ultimately welcomed.”
The author knows not everyone is pleased with the seeds of change she and her peers sowed.
“There are, of course, scores of Vermont residents, both native and transplant, who do not welcome gay marriage or environmental regulation or any of the myriad other changes that are associated with the counterculture,” she writes. “Yet even they will concede that the very character of Vermont, a place that has always honored independence and the right to be different, a place whose residents have always been grounded by weather and the land, remains strong.”
Daley is set to share her book in a statewide tour detailed on her website, with events June 7 in Rutland, June 9 in St. Albans, June 12 in Middlebury, June 14 in Burlington, June 16 in Shrewsbury, June 19 in Montpelier, June 21 in Brandon, June 22 in Manchester, June 26 in Londonderry, June 28 in Brattleboro, July 12 in Bennington, July 19 in Chittenden, July 24 in Hardwick, July 28 in Woodstock and Aug. 12 in Mount Holly.
This review also appeared in the Brattleboro Reformer and The Commons.
‘Going Up the Country’: Yvonne Daley delves into Vermont’s ‘hippie’ movement
Faignant Janelle | June 02, 2018
By JANELLE FAIGNANT
If the apt title of the book from the popular 1970 song of the same name doesn’t get your attention, the cover will. A man who looks like Jesus, even carrying a staff, stands next to a woman playing a flute to a sheep standing on its hind legs in approval. Author Yvonne Daley says it’s a photo of a couple on their way to a party at the famous Total Loss Farm Commune in Guilford.
It’s the cover of her latest book, “Going Up the Country: When the Hippies, Dreamers, Freaks, and Radicals Moved to Vermont,” which looks at the counterculture movement that saturated Vermont through the lens of more than 100 Vermonters’ stories.
“Most people didn’t walk around like that all the time,” Daley said, sitting in her home in Rutland last week. But it paints a picture of that time, and sort of answers the question: Why did so many people move to Vermont in the late 1960s? Daley’s new book embraces a generation that was changed by the Green Mountain state, and vice versa.
“I look at the overall movement, why it happened historically, and people’s stories are woven into that,” said Daley, a former Rutland Herald reporter.
Her first stop during the book launch tour is at 6:30 p.m. Thursday, June 7 at the Vermont Farmers Food Center in Rutland. The event will feature songs from the era, artwork and crafts made by some of the people profiled in the book.
At 7 p.m. Thursday, June 14, Daley will be at Main Street Landing in Burlington for a reading and short panel discussion on how the counterculture changed Vermont. Participants include Melinda Moulton, CEO of Main Street Landing; John Douglas, filmmaker and co-founder of the Free Vermont movement; Barbara Nolfi, co-founder of the Free Vermont movement; Mo Dwyer, a nurse who served in the Vietnam War; and filmmaker Jay Craven.
“I want people to bring, show and tell,” she said of the Rutland event. “I’m going to put up a clothesline and hang painted and embroidered clothes that I made back then. I’d like people to bring a favorite item and we’ll hang them all.”
The book is part history, part narrative, and part analysis of the phenomenon referred to as the counterculture movement in Vermont, during which young migrants came from cities, turning their backs on the establishment of the 1960s and claiming Vermont to spawn a revolution in lifestyle, politics, and sexuality, with a lasting impact.
Those familiar with Daley’s writing will recognize the sentimentality devoid of sap, abundance of research, and choir of voices throughout, in this case from the hundreds of interviews she conducted around the state over the course of three years. A kind of historical and sociological study, it’s full of insightful observations about Vermont, seasoned with photos and throwbacks to long-gone classics like the old Back Home Café, all centered on the idea that Vermont is a special place.
Daley herself came to the state in 1967, for a combination of reasons including city burnout, a desire for a different life than the projected perfection of her parents’ era, and a desire to grow her own food.
“I was interested in the history of what was already here in Vermont that made the transition so smooth,” she said. “Because to me a generation of people who came and stayed certainly have changed Vermont, but you could say that those people were changed equally, if not more so by Vermont itself. Vermonters took care of us, they adopted us, they taught us how to stay warm, what wood to cut, how to grow things.
“Some people thought they would be creating a new society and that when cities collapsed people would have a place to come to,” Daley said. “It didn’t turn out that way, yet many of those people are still here, they found a home here. That’s what the book is about. It’s their stories.”
Donald Trump’s fear-mongering about Mexicans and Muslims, Haitians and Africans, and other foreigners is hardly sui generis in U.S. history. In the mid- 19th century, east coast nativists regularly sounded the alarm about barbarian invasions from famine-stricken Ireland. Their west coast counterparts warned for many decades of the “yellow peril” to California, which took the form of Asian immigration.
Yvonne Daley’s Going Up the Country: When the Hippies, Dreamers, Freaks, and Radicals Moved to Vermont (University of New England Press) reminds us that even domestic population shifts involving native-born whites can be easily demonized. All it takes is a threatened influx of outsiders whose physical appearance is different and whose social customs or community behavior are reportedly not very law-abiding.
One of the highlights of Daley’s account of the late 20th-century transformation of Vermont is her depiction of a local panic triggered in 1972. That’s when Playboy magazine informed millions of readers that 50,000 “unwashed troublemakers” were fleeing urban America for the greener pastures of Vermont. In his sensationalistic piece, journalist Richard Pollak wondered what would be left of conservative values in the Green Mountain State after it was engulfed by advocates of free love, psychedelic drugs, and rock-and-roll?
As Daley notes, “thousands of hippies and people who identified with counterculture values” were, at the time, already “living on Vermont communes and collectives, in group houses and teepees, school buses, sugar shacks, and farmhouses across the state.” So the news that their ranks would soon be expanding was received locally with great alarm.
As one Vermont journalist recalled years later, “bold, black newspaper headlines warned of the impending ‘HIPPIE INVASION’, sending more than one old farmer scurrying for his shotgun.” The state’s commissioner of public safety had to publicly discourage any use of tactics employed two centuries earlier by Ethan Allen and his Green Mountain Boys, a colonial militia famous for roughing up “flatlanders” from New York.
In the face of mounting concern around the state, Republican Governor Deane Davis, a local insurance executive, urged Vermont residents (then only 440,000 in number) to remain calm. In an official press release, Davis noted that “the bulk of young transients” involved in this “so-called ‘Hippie influx’ go about their business in a self-sufficient, peaceful manner, although their habits and appearance may not be to our taste.”
Few observers—even those adopting such a “live-and-let-live” stance—anticipated that these “transients” might have a lasting political impact. (Among them, however, was a persistent young radical from Brooklyn named Bernie Sanders who purchased an 85-acre wooded tract near Montpelier for $2,500 but “never liked the word hippie nor thought of himself as one,” Daley notes.) Only Richard Pollak accurately foresaw what lay ahead for Davis and his GOP if “the nation’s alienated young decided to stick around and stage a take-over of Vermont….by ballot!” As Daley documents, changing demographics and unexpected synergy between newcomers and native Vermonters have, over the past fifty years, turned a long-time Republican bastion into a solid blue state, now widely known for its progressive policy initiatives, socialist U.S. Senator, and successful left-wing third party.
Back to the Land
Before becoming a Rutland Herald reporter and, later, a journalism professor, Yvonne Daley belonged to Vermont’s “back to the land” movement. In her book, she traces the personal and political trajectory of her fellow communards. Over time, many became involved in elected boards, commissions, and, of course, annual town meetings in a place where 65 percent of the population still lives in rural settings. Her fascinating interviews stir up no shortage of old memories, good and bad, plus passionate defenses of differences once thought to be important.
“Red Clover was not a commune,” insists one of its co-founders, John Douglas, a radical film-maker in the Sixties. “We were a collective. We were fucking serious revolutionaries.” As Daley recounts, Douglas and others tried to pull together a statewide counter-cultural network, called Free Vermont, but were most successful locally. Common Ground, their worker-run vegetarian restaurant in Brattleboro, survived for 36 years. It was the first of its kind in Vermont, and spawned a local food co-op, now part of a constellation whose rising star is the unionized City Market in Burlington. Its $38 million in annual sales volume is greater than any single co-op outlet in the country.
Going Up the Country describes the broader impact of Sixties-inspired newcomers on organic farming, “farm-to-table” distribution networks, women’s healthcare, arts and crafts, higher education and music. (In the last two categories, we learn about the role of Goddard College in the formation of Phish!) Family-run dairy farms may still be in steady decline, but overall, Vermont’s $776 million agricultural economy was largest of any state in New England two years ago. Its ninety farmers’ markets provide more fresh food than any other state per capita. It boasts nearly 600 certified organic farms, including one run by David Zuckerman, a pony-tailed leader of the Vermont Progressive Party who was elected Lt.-Governor in 2016—by the same electorate that rejected a corporate Democrat in favor of Republican stock car racer, Phil Scott, in the gubernatorial race.
What Daley calls “Entrepreneurship—Hippie Style” has paid off big-time for the creators of local brands like Ben & Jerry’s, sold in 2000 to Unilever, and Jogbra (nee Jockbra) sold ten years earlier to Playtex Corp. The Brooklyn-born ice cream magnates, Ben Cohen and Jerry Greenfield, helped found Vermont Businesses for Social Responsibility, the largest and oldest state group of its kind with more than 750 members in 640 companies. Going Up the Country shows how non-conformists drawn to Vermont not “only wanted to get out of the rat race by building a different kind of life;” they were, as former Rutland Herald reporter Tom Slayton notes, “willing to endure long winters, live simply, and do hard physical work.” After the “initial strangeness of the newcomers wore off, their Vermont neighbors saw that they shared many values with them.”
Gods of the Hills
The rollicking plot of Radio Free Vermont reflects environmentalist Bill McKibben’s own affection for artisanal industry and agriculture in his adopted state. Like Daley, he hails from Massachusetts originally but now lives not far from Middlebury College, where his campus presence helped spawned 350.org. In McKibben’s “fable of resistance,” a beloved Vermont radio show host named Vern Barclay gets fired and then pursued by the police for sabotaging his station’s fawning coverage of a Walmart store opening. An unlikely rebel, the 72-year old Barclay goes underground, aided by local monkey-wrenchers who next target Starbucks, Coors Light, and other symbols of corporate influence.
Among Vern’s tech-savvy helpers is a female veteran and gold medalist in the biathlon, who returned disillusioned from her military service in Iraq. Their creative plotting takes place, in mid-winter, “the sheer brownness of it all just depressing him” because,
“[t]he globe had warmed faster and harder than anyone had predicted. With Arctic ice melted, there was no place to build up the intense cold that had always marked winter in Vermont. Lake Champlain didn’t freeze much anymore, and, if snow fell, it was usually for a few hours in the middle of a rainstorm. Vern knew he should have been worrying about the people in Bangladesh busy building dikes to keep the sea at bay—but these warm, muddy winters were what really bothered him…”
From a series of safe houses, Barclay finds ingenious ways to promote grassroots resistance to corporate power, environmental destruction, and non-craft beer. Transmissions by Radio Free Vermont spark a lively, statewide debate about the feasibility and merits of separation from a Trump-led USA. Much of that exchange echoes the yearning for self-determination, direct democracy, and peaceful co-existence expressed by Daley’s interview subjects in Going Up the Country.
In McKibben’s satire, Vermont authorities are repeatedly flummoxed by Barclay’s deft invocation of local history and traditions. “Underground, underpowered and underfoot,” Radio Free Vermont takes aim at the state’s modern-day corporate overlords and their local vassals, reminding both that, in the immortal words of Ethan Allen, “the gods of the valleys are not the gods of the hills.”Before long, local post-offices are flying “Free Vermont” banners designed by Barclay’s 96-year old mother. Bumper stickers on pickup trucks favor “Barclay for Prime Minister!”
How far out is the author’s fictional depiction of secessionist sentiment in a state striving to be a model of environmental sanity and sustainability? Well, the idea of leaving the rest of the U.S. behind has definitely crossed the minds of a few real-life Vermonters more than once in the past. Despite her later success getting elected justice of the peace for the town of Goshen, VT. (current population:164), Daley and “other hippies living at the end of North Goshen Road” were once so alienated from Richard Nixon’s America that they “harbored ideas of seceding from the union” as members of a locally organized “North Goshen Secessionist Society.”
In 2003, supporters of the Second Vermont Republic, a group founded by the late Thomas Naylor, a former Duke University professor, promoted secession in higher profile fashion. At the peak of its popularity, Naylor’s campaign for independence landed Vermont on Time’s list of “Top 10 Aspiring Nations” and won the backing of thirteen percent of its eligible voters, according to a 2007 poll conducted by UVM’s Center for Rural Studies. A Naylor- backed candidate running for governor in 2010 campaigned on a promise to withdraw Vermont National Guard troops from all overseas deployments, a worthwhile objective that, nevertheless, attracted only .8 percent of the vote for his campaign. The appeal of secessionism waned, according to McKibben, when some local advocates “colluded with a collection of rancid southern racists” (who had little interest in opposing militarism or imperialism).
More recently, Governor Scott, a moderate Republican described by McKibben as a “stalwart opponent of Mr. Trump,” stirred controversy with his public musing about how Vermont could stand out—or even stand alone—in the face of climate change. In the wake of devastating southern California wildfires last winter, Scott told local reporters that Vermont’s location and topography might spare it similar woes. In fact, if fires and water shortages became more widespread elsewhere, that “could be in some ways beneficial to Vermont,” the governor asserted. “If we protect our resources, we could use this as an economic boon.”
To many, Scott’s comments reflected a poor gubernatorial grasp of the term “global warming.” Yet the thirty-time winner of races at Thunder Road Speed Bowl in Barre, Vt. did have local defenders. Sara Solnick, a University of Vermont economist, agreed that “there are constantly winners and losers with every kind of change,” including in our climate. If other states become less habitable due to drought, fires, or floods, Solnick foresaw a possible reversal of past patterns of migration to the Sunbelt from wintery New England. In short, Vermont’s next wave of “invaders” could be refugees from extreme weather in the southwest!
The message of McKibben’s comic novel is, of course, quite different. There is no shelter from the storm of climate change, as his many non-fiction books have documented. In the end, everyone on the planet will be among the losers. Despite its local charm, separatism has definite limitations as a left-populist response to corporate globalization and its many malign cross-border impacts. However, as the newcomers to Vermont profiled by Daley learned sooner or later, getting involved in local politics remains one of the most effective ways to link national and international issues to rural community concerns. In 2018 and beyond, anyone planning to do short-term campaigning or longer-term colonizing in any present-day red states should first consult Going Up the Country. Daley’s insightful look at Vermont before and after its fabled “hippie invasion” is a useful guide to building bridges to new neighbors not on the left or anywhere near it.
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