Saturday, December 1, 1984

American Book Review (Nov./Dec. 1984) Reviews Three Books of Short Stories by Richard Grayson

The American Book Review reviews I BRAKE FOR DELMORE SCHWARTZ, DISJOINTED FICTIONS,EATING AT ARBY'S on pages 21-22 of its November/December 1984 issue:

From Our House to Bathos

* * *

Richard Grayson
Zephyr Press
13 Robinson Street
Somerville, MA 02145
1983, 95 pages
Cloth, $9.95; Paper, $4.95

EATING AT ARBY'S: The South Florida Stories
Richard Grayson
Grinning Idiot Press
P.O. Box 1577
Brooklyn, NY 11202
1982, 24 pages
Paper, $3.00

Richard Grayson
Cumberland Journal
P.O. Box 2648
Harrisburg, PA 17105
1981, 64 pages
Paper, $3.00

Reviewed by Jaimy Gordon


Eating at Arby's and Disjointed Fictions clamor for laughs before one even opens the covers. True, I Brake for Delmore Schwartz is a dignified volume, except for the title and the enclosed red bumper sticker that spells it out in large letters. But the flamingo-pink cover of Eating at Arby's announces that Richard Grayson ran for Town Council lately in Davie, Florida, with a campaign promise to give horses the vote; and the back of Disjointed Fictions reports that he was once a candidate for the Democratic Vice-Presidential nomination. Both books offer columns of testimonials on Grayson's work, some from trade organs like Publishers Weekly, others from Florida community rags like the Delray Beach News Journal and the Fort Lauderdale Sun-Sentinel. These critics are, on the whole, somewhat puzzled by Grayson—a woman from the New York Post hopes that "his literary career may be blessedly brief"—but most know a joke when they see it. They invoke Steve Martin, Saturday Night Live and the muse of stand-up comedy to explain Grayson, though a certain uneasiness lingers between the blurbs: If this is Saturday Night Live, can it be literature?

And now a second clipping from the Miami Herald slips out of Eating at Arby's, hinting at yet another South Florida story. In October, 1982, an alert reporter sniffed out a small scandal behind the chapbook: Richard Grayson employed a $3000 grant from the Florida Arts Council to chronicle the banal adventures of Manny and Zelda among mall shoppers, Marielitos, and drug murderers, in flat, repetitive, Dick and Jane-style prose. The reporter finds Grayson in his English Department cubicle at Broward Community College, and he does not allow her to go away disappointed. He elaborates on his municipal campaign platform: besides enfranchising horses, he was in favor of giving tactical nuclear weapons to the Davie police force. He threatens to sell the book on the street and says of the Florida Arts Council: "I'm sure they'll be delighted to see such a great piece of literature came from their money." But he adds a typical disclaimer: he is grading well over a hundred "illiterate papers" a week. "As you can see from the book," he tells her, "it doesn't do much for your writing style."

The willingness to be a public clown—or, more accurately, to present the appearance of a wistful nobody scribbling away in private who occasionally bursts out as a farcical publicist, exposing himself before the world—continues unabated inside Grayson's prolific but never prolix fictions. The several strains of his humor occur in more or less varied combinations according to the story, and I much prefer those loosely segmented chains of association in the first person (happily, two thirds of the stories in both Disjointed Fictions and I Brake for Delmore Schwartz fall into this category), where all his mannerisms exist side by side, to his more symmetrical and abstract pieces; for, in the absence of the first person, Grayson's prose loses much of its charm and is shown to be a rather blunt and inelastic tool. Grayson is not a graceful stylist, and as soon as the expression of a personality (or the illusion of this) disappears, his inventions and satires move on leaden feet. This is particularly true of Eating at Arby's, whose conceptual plan may sound comic, but which, as a literary experience—that is, as something to read—is all but insufferable. Manny and Zelda speak the same stiff, uncontracted idiom with which Dick and Jane stupefied us in second grade; the tiny vocabulary of their dialogues expands primer-style from a base of I like/nice/fun/friends/important/good/glad/ happy/man, to include "gay," "I-95" and "accidents"; "Century Village" and "Arby's"; "trip to Colombia"; "sore back" and "chiropractor"; "hurricane," "cocaine," "gun," and "murder." Besides offering a draught of gall to the Arts Council, the little book has two virtues, of a sort; it does not take a subtle intellect to feel the point of its satire, so that Grayson's contempt, which almost any dolt can share, is ultimately reassuring; and it is all over in twenty-four pages.

The variegated texture of the first-person narratives that most engage his admirers and baffle his critics is challenging to describe, since it is through juxtaposition that these deliberately unshapely tales achieve their effects. There is a strain of soap-opera exhibitionism in Grayson; sown through I Brake for Delmore Schwartz are revelations of an embarrassingly personal nature, often maudlin, often clearly untrue: "At this time I was suffering from schizophrenia," he says in passing, in "Is This Useful? Is This Boring?." "No matter how hard I tried, I never could take the whole bottle of sleeping pills," he says in "Oh Khrushchev, My Khrushchev." "But maybe for Khrushchev I could do it." A commonplace East Coast Jewish extended family, divided between New York and Miami and subject to cancer and bar mitzvahs, is put to use in many of Grayson's stories, variously as the basis of anecdotes that would not go over badly on the borscht circuit ("little antidotes," the grandfather in "Nice Weather, Aren't We?" calls them) or for highly suspect pathos. In one story in I Brake for Delmore Schwartz, the narrator's sister has drowned; in another, leukemia has snatched her away; in Disjointed Fictions ("Escape from the Planet of the Humanoids"), a sister is still tirelessly dying; the reader is instructed to "Feel this:"
The pain of frustration that a man feels when he is trying to write a sentence about how a character feels at his sister's funeral and can only come up with this fragment: Better her than me.

But in another tale the sister's phone number ("FOR A GOOD LAY CALL 969-9970") appears on a subway map in the IRT; and in yet another, she's alive and prospering as Roslyn, "now a Long Island dermatologist and mother of twins," who says, "Yes, I remember Saulie's bar mitzvah. . ."

The thread of the pathetic family saga intertwines with another characteristic one that I will call the lament of the schlemiel in the creative writing workshop. He is no longer in it, of course, but it has left its mark. The narrator worries about the quality of his fictions, checking them against mumble-mouthed platitudes of the craft; and these are travestied evenhandedly whether they arise from the post-modernist school or the Famous Writers' School. Grayson has an MFA from Brooklyn College, so he knows the rhetoric. In "Is This Useful? Is It Boring?," the narrator boasts, "For two years I studied Fiction Writing in one of the best universities in the country. . . .We were supposed to write new kinds of fiction. One writer called himself a 'post-contemporary' writer. That says it all." But from this self-congratulatory beginning, the voice disintegrates into a muddle of pomposity and self-pity: as a writer who misrepresents people as characters and otherwise can "get away with murder," the narrator is "a pretty powerful person"; well, no, he says, actually he writes out of a neurotic need for attention; in fact, he writes to get revenge on some Italian kids who once called him "Irving"; then the narrator changes his mind — "I can't even find the right words" — maybe he didn't learn anything in college after all. So much for the tenets of the experimentalists.

But then there are the traditionalists to contend with. Halfway through "Nice Weather, Aren't We?," the narrator's girlfriend Rosalie sneaks in "while I was out getting a Fresca" and writes "NO FOCUS" on the middle of the page. "Criticism like that I don't feel useful," he says huffily. But he admits it's all a strain. In "The Four Faces of Freud":
Listen, there is no point in finishing this story... I can't understand why some editor would print this, except as a cry for help. I am mentally ill.

This is the Grayson manner in endless variations: alternate strains of impudent posturing that breaks down in self-parody, equally disingenuous confessions of the writer's ineptitude; and, withal, punchlines and puns that he will labor for many paragraphs to set up, like, "I never promised you a prose artist," and, "Fiction's no stranger than Ruth." All these parts are suffused with the appealing professional anxiety of a small-time writer scrabbling against odds and without much concern for his dignity to get a little renown for himself. Grayson once said in an interview (Gargoyle 17/18) that he keeps his fiction short because "fragmented, self-conscious novels might very well be boring. Some people say that fragmented, self-conscious stories are also boring, but at least they're short."

It seems worth noting that Grayson perceives his readership, so far, more clearly than his readership perceives him. There is a sound precedent for that loose-jointedness of his fictions that so confounds his critics, a venerable one that reaches back far beyond the mimetic and novelistic bias that is in fact a middle-class parvenu in the world of letters. It is the satiric tradition of Erasmus and Rabelais, of Diderot, of Swift and Sterne and Peacock, and one may find this tradition, as in Grayson, the shape of a miscellany founded on a loose association of ideas, frequently with humble apologies from the author; idiosyncratic asides, digressions, and non sequiturs; catalogues and inventories; structures of information borrowed from extra-literary domains of the language; dialogues, patterns of query and response, and other instances of the unexpected, the undignified, the fitful, the intellectually pretentious breaking down into parody. But the brevity of Grayson's fictions is his own design, based on a just though severe estimate of the attention span of a literary peer group he understands all too well. In the same interview, Grayson told his questioner, "Actually, if you look at my work, it's probably more influenced by TV than by literature." Grayson writes for (because he is one of) a literati that watches TV, that is hounded by the neologisms "writers' workshop," "Citibank," and "co-op apartment." The narrator of "I Brake for Delmore Schwartz" walks the streets of New York, Citicard in hand—the same streets trod by Isaac Bashevis Singer and by the shade of the departed Schwartz—asking himself if it wouldn't be smarter to take a course in computers for a guaranteed fourteen grand a year, than to persist in this thankless manner of living.

Perhaps the most confusion about whether to place Grayson in the contemporary literary scheme is owing to the imperfect self-knowledge of that public of which Richard Grayson is the jester. We — and I mean you and I — live in a strange literary economy where most writers between the ages of twenty-five and forty accept the lot of the sort-of-published, the semi-solvent, the great unread, against the backdrop of an age of media super-celebrities; so that we are unable to escape the evidence of our under-appreciation though fully aware of the ludicrousness of the contrary. Richard Grayson constructs a literary persona out of just this predicament. He is a satirist and parodist so timely that his brothers and sisters may not yet discern themselves in his mirror. Certainly our hapless group that writes and studies writing and cogitates about writing but cannot know its audience deserves its own comedian, if it can learn — as Richard Grayson has — to laugh at itself.

Jaimy Gordon is the author of Shamp of the City-Solo (Treacle Press) and Circumspections from an Equestrian Statue (Burning Deck), among other works. She presently teaches at Western Michigan University.

Saturday, November 3, 1984

Interview with Richard Grayson in HOME PLANET NEWS

The Fall 1984 issue of Home Planet News, edited by Enid Dame and Donald Lev, features interviews with Richard Grayson and Mary Hemingway, as well as work by Amos Oz, Yehuda Amichai, Richard Kostelanetz, Hugh Fox, Gerald Haslam, Louie Crew and others.

Richard Grayson is interviewed by fiction editor Carufel de Lamiere. Grayson stories that have previously appeared in Home Planet News include "Partners" and "Blame It on Brecht."

Tuesday, July 31, 1984

MIAMI SOUTH FLORIDA MAGAZINE Reviews Books by Richard Grayson

MIAMI SOUTH FLORIDA MAGAZINE is featuring an article on Richard Grayson on page 32 of its current (August 1984) issue:


Richard Grayson is a young writer who experiments with the short story form. His stories don't necessarily have the traditional beginning, middle and end. Some are extremely brief but intense sketches. Some jump radically in time or place. Others are stories in the form of notes, questionnaires and interviews. They are all stories which uncover a person who must deal with the shallowness, anonymity and pain Grayson finds in today's life. Grayson deals with that subject with poignancy and humor.

A four-year resident of South Florida, Grayson lives in North Miami Beach, teaches English at Broward Community College in Davie, and has had more than 125 stories published, most in exceedingly outre magazines. Some of these stories have been compiled in three hardcover books. Others are gathered in two chapbooks, which are thin, softcover collections. His latest publication, I Brake for Delmore Schwartz (Somerville, Mass., Zephyr Press, 1983) contains, paradoxically, much of his earliest work. In many of these stories, he deals with his personal vision of his Jewishness. His characters face loneliness and alienation with little loving absurd gestures. "Reluctance," the opening story, is about the love he felt for, and the pain he caused, his great-grandmother. "She told me," he writes, "she would make cookies when my own son was born, and when I said that would never happen, she just grabbed me up to her mammoth breasts and shook me until I laughed and said okay, I will have a son."

"By now," claims Grayson, "I've forgotten which work is autobiographical. Some of it is."

He also plays with perception, challenging the way we take the appearance of things for reality. "One of my feelings is that we live in a time when the perception or the so-called appearance of things is more important than what is real. Good writers always challenge our society. I hope to get people stirred up and even angry and outraged," he says. "I don't like telling people what they want to hear because they get enough of that on television."

And he does outrage, especially in his "press releases," a black comic part of his fictional work. As part of his experiments iwth perception and the way the media shapes ours, Grayson sends out press releases for his make-believe organizations like Future Fetuses of America and The Devil Broadcasting Company, which has "non-programs" like Satan Place, Route 666, and I Love Lucifer. He and his mother ran as delegates to the Democratic Convention on the platform of the Committee for Immediate Nuclear War. The publicity they received via the press releases garnered the pair more than 10,000 votes.

The surrealist Latin American writers Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Jorge Luis Borges are his literary models, so it is not surprising that Grayson produces such stories as With Hitler in New York (New York: Taplinger Publishing Company, 1979). He portrays Hitler as nothing more than an ordinary, likeable person with ominous undertones to his personality, thus asking and telling the reader how Hitler was able to reach his stats in the first place.

What makes Grayson's work outstanding, though, is that he mixes conventional narrative styles and subject matter with experimental games and unconventional material.

True, some of his experiments don't work, such as the tiresome and cliched Eating at Arby's (Brooklyn, NY: Grinning Idiot Press, 1982) but when I read the opening lines to the title story of his latest book, I know I am communicating with a person who is not afraid of looking down toward reality:

"Sometimes when I wake up in my loft bed in the mornings and I see the bars on the windows, I remember I am in prison. I try to feel repentant for the awful crimes I have committed, but then I remember that this memory is a false one and that the bars on my windows are only to protect me from other people . . . . Other times I decide that I really am in prison."

---Ann Reaben Prospero


Richard Grayson at Waldenbooks, Books & Books, 296 Aragon Avenue, Coral Gables, and Bookworks, 6933 Red Road, South Miami.

Monday, July 16, 1984

U.S. News & World Report covers Richard Grayson's presidential campaign

Richard Grayson's presidential campaign is covered at the end of the article "Why all those others run for president. (Politics '84)" by Thomas J. Foley on page 91 in U.S. News & World Report this week (July 16, 1984):

Why all those others run for president. (Politics '84)
by Thomas J. Foley

Voters who don't think much of either Ronald Reagan or Walter Mondale for President might ponder the merits of Earl Dodge, Richard Grayson or Alphonso Steward.

Those three are among the some 200 announced candidates for the White House. Most take themselves seriously, but only one or two have a chance to win more than a few thousand votes.

What motivates them? Some are members of established political parties. Others are plugging special causes. For many, it's ego, a love of publicity or simply a joke. Running for President is simple enough. All it takes is a 20-cent stamp on a letter to the Federal Election Commission, although actually getting on the ballot is much harder.

The biggest November vote getters among the also-rans could be the Libertarians, amking their fourth run at the White House, this time with attorney David Bergland of Costa Mesa, Calif., as their presidential candidate. In 1980, they came in fourth behind Reagan, Jimmy Carter and John Anderson when presidential nominee Ed Clark won more than 900,000 votes.

The Citizens Party, which got more than 230,000 votes in 1980 with environmentalist Barry Commoner as its presidential candidate, is back with a new champion--Sonia Johnson, a feminist who was excommunicated from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for promoting the equal-rights amendment and other women's issues.

One of the most visible of the minor campaigns is that of Lyndon LaRouche, founder of the U.S. Labor Party, who is making his third try, this time as a Democrat. He claims to have raised 3 million dollars so far, including more than $450,000 in federal matching funds. Eight years ago, LaRouche received slightly more than 40,000 votes.

Some White House hopefuls are hardy quadrennials.

Former Minnesota Governor Harold Stassen, who is now 77, first ran for President in 1944 and has been throwing his hat in the ring nearly every four years since. At least 13,000 Republicans in West Virginia's June 5 presidential primary took Stassen seriously enough to mark his name on their ballots.

Gus Hall, general secretary of the U.S. Communist Party, is in the race for the fourth time. As in 1980, his running mate is black activist Angela Davis. They drew 45,000 votes four years ago.

The Hall campaign operates under a unique status: It need not list its contributors with the FEC, even though it collects and spends more than the $5,000 that triggers federal reporting requirements. The Supreme Court ruled in 1983 that such a listing would subject supporters to harassment and would be a violation of the supporters' First Amendment rights.

Earl Dodge, a 50-year-old father of seven, will carry the banner of the Prohibition Party.

Olympian challenge. The ultraconservative American Indpendent Party is not fielding a candidate this year but instead is backing former Olympic pole vaulter Bob Richards, candidate of the Texas-based Populist Party.

Ben Fernandez, a wealthy California business executive, is trying for the second straight time to win the Republican nomination.

Some candidates for President seem to be in the race just for fun.

Larry Harmon of Los Angeles, creator of Bozo the Clown, announced his write-in candidacy in costume at Washington's National Press Club.

Alphonso Steward of Garysburg, N.C., boasts a campaign committee called Students for ADS Project Love (a Masters Peace). Before he decided to get an unlisted telephone number, the 54-year-old college student told reporters he planned to make Jane Fonda his Secretary of Energy and Cary Grant Secretary of Agriculture.

Garrett Trapnell is running again this year, but from a different constituency. Serving a life sentence for hijacking an airliner, he is now in the Atlanta federal penitentiary. Four years ago he was in prison at Marion, Ill., when he won a court challenge allowing him to run as a write-in candidate.

Cyril Sagan, a chemistry professor at Slippery Rock State College in Pennsylvania, has a simple platform: He would bar lawyers from becoming judges.

Philip Baker of Shively, Ky., promises voters they will be able to shuttle to the moon and planets.

Lester Byerley, Jr., of Manahawkin, N.J., has a more earthly pledge. He would give every citizen $10,000.

J. John Gordon of Worcester, Mass., pledges to wipe out the national debt in 1 hour. The first step would be to substitute alcohol for oil as an energy source.

Hugh Bagley of Keyes, Calif., takes his stand on annexing Mexico.

Then there is "Hymie the Waiter." Hymie Meyer of San Francisco notes there has never been a waiter behind the desk in the Oval Office, adding: "I looked at the current political situation and realized I was as unqualified as any of the other candidates."

Donald Badgely of Poughkeepsie, N.Y., a 1980 contender, is back again with his long white hair, beard and shepherd's staff. He is campaigning for a six-day week and a 360-day year.

Susanna Dakin, an artist in Venice, Calif., suggests world peace might be guaranteed if the leaders of nuclear nations were wired to detonate first in the event of attack.

Richard Grayson, an unemployed English teacher from Davie, Fla., who wants to move the nation's capital from Washington, D.C., to Davenport, Iowa, is one minor candidate who thinks ahead. Conceding that defeat is likely this year, Grayson says: "I'm thinking of moving to New Hampshire now to get an early start for 1988."

Tuesday, July 3, 1984

Another Chicago Magazine (ACM) reviews Richard Grayson's I BRAKE FOR DELMORE SCHWARTZ

On pages 123-125 of its summer 1984 issue, Another Chicago Magazine (ACM) has a review by Robin Hemley of Richard Grayson's I Brake for Delmore Schwartz:

I BRAKE FOR DELMORE SCHWARTZ, Stories by Richard Grayson (ZephyrPress, 13 Robinson Street, Somerville,MA 02145, 95 pp.) $4.95

Here is an imaginative and engaging writer who breaks all the conventions of contemporary fiction with a devilish relish. Grayson gets away with everything your Writing Teachers told you not to do. His stories are self-conscious, fragmentary, and biggest sin of them all, usually plotless. But we forgive Richard Grayson all his sins, mostly because he is so imaginative and clever, and he has such a strong, compelling voice. Totally unafraid to take risks, Grayson tells stories from the point of view of a man in love with Nikita Khrushchev, a man obsessed with the fact that he looks like Delmore Schwartz, and even from the perspective of the cold that killed our ninth President, William Henry Harrison. Personification. Another sin.

At various points in his narratives, Grayson dares you to read on: "You really want to read this?" he asks at the beginning of "Nice Weather, Aren't We?" "You don't have to, just to humor me. It's all right. I know I'm a nice guy, I don't have to prove anything to you. . . " With a beginning like this, my first reaction is, "You're right. I don't have to read this," and I almost put down the story as my nagging Writing Teachers would have me do. But Writing Teachers are a little like your conscience; they're meant to be ignored. And Grayson's voice helps you ignore them. When I started this story, I thought it would be my least favorite, but now I think it's one of his best. He keeps setting you up in this story, telling you he only writes true stories, that everything he says is true, and then destroying each one of these illusions. And each time he does it, you masochistically want him to go on manipulating you. He manipulates you with such a flair and with such whimsical details that you can't hold it against the guy: "Sometimes you hear the craziest things. Writers like me often jot them down in notebooks so we can work them into our stories. I got on the elevator the other day and this old lady with a poodle looks at me with a smile and says, 'Nice weather, aren't we?' Weird. That's going to go in one of my stories some day."

Yes, Grayson's stories are metafictional, but he's not just another Coover, Barth, or Donald Barthelme. Though Grayson isn't quite as polished as these writers, he's got something else over them. He's not simply concerned with breaking stylistic conventions and letting things like character fall by the wayside. Grayson's stories, however wild, are humane. And the first person functions as a well-rounded, independent character in Grayson's work, often taking on a confessional attitude.

The titles in this collection are often as whimsical as the stories they describe: "Oh Khrushchev, My Khrushchev," "Slightly Higher in Canada," "Y/Me," "That's Saul, Folks." Still, as much as I am engaged by Richard Grayson's writing, I feel a bit like like someone reporting on an underachieving genius. Sometimes his rule-breaking doesn't work, and his stories are a little too spare, fragmented, and self-indulgent. At these times I'd like to go up to Mr. Grayson, shake him by the shoulders, and say, "Get serious, stop having so much fun. Now let's see what you can really do." I recognize this reaction might just be one of those little Writing Teachers getting to me again, but like your conscience, they can't always be ignored.

One thing's for certain, though. Grayson always hits the mark as far as voice is concerned. Few contemporary American writers have such a compelling, intriguing voice, totally believable and unabashedly contrived at the same time.

- Robin Hemley

Friday, May 11, 1984

New York Times covers Richard Grayson's plan to draft Mayor Ed Koch for President

Richard Grayson's plan to draft New York Mayor Ed Koch as a presidential candidate is covered in the "New York Day by Day" column in The New York Times today (May 11, 1984):

A Hat in the Ring, Sort Of


Koch for President? ''Koch is our man,'' said Richard Grayson, an English teacher at Broward Community College in Fort Lauderdale, Fla. He and his brother, Jonathan, have formally filed with the Federal Election Commission as the Committee to Draft Ed Koch for President.

Richard Grayson is listed as treasurer, Jonathan Grayson as Chief Wacko.

What does it matter that the Mayor of New York couldn't get elected Governor of New York? "He's popular," said Richard Grayson, "He's written a No. 1 best-seller. He could be a compromise candidate."

It does not take money or much organizational effort to form a committee, Mr. Grayson said, nor does the committee intend to do much. "What we'd like is to give him the idea."

"Flattering," responded the Mayor, "but I couldn't get elected if I wanted to. And I don't want to. I'm for Mondale."

Friday, April 13, 1984

Miami News reports on Richard Grayson's $1,000 Loan to Attorney General Designate Ed Meese

The Miami News today (April 13, 1984) reports on Richard Grayson's $1,000 loan to Presidential adviser and nominee for Attorney General Edwin Meese in furor over Meese's accepting loans from men who later received jobs with the federal government.

Sunday, March 11, 1984

Fort Lauderdale News/Sun-Sentinel's SUNSHINE Magazine publishes feature article on Richard Grayson: "Stop Him Before He Strikes Again!"

The March 11, 1984 issue of SUNSHINE, the Sunday magazine of The Fort Lauderdale New/Sun-Sentinel, features a story on Richard Grayson, "Stop Him Before He Strikes Again!" by Scott Eyman.

Monday, January 30, 1984

SHOW BUSINESS reports on Richard Grayson's Devil Broadcasting Company TV Network

Show Business reports today (Monday, January 30, 1984) on Richard Grayson's Devil Broadcasting Company TV network.

Saturday, January 14, 1984

The Orlando Sentinel Front-Page Article on Richard Grayson's Involvement in Florida's "Legislators in Love" Scandal

The Orlando Sentinel today (Saturday, January 14, 1984) has as its lead front-page article a story on Richard Grayson's involvement in Florida's "Legislators in Love" scandal.

Monday, January 9, 1984

PEOPLE Magazine covers Jane Wyman's reaction to being named presidential candidate Richard Grayson's Vice-Presidential running mate

In People magazine this week (January 9, 1984), actress Jane Wyman responds to being named Presidential candidate Richard Grayson's running mate for Vice President.