Short Course on the History of Spike
The Destiny of the Working Class is the Dick Joke
By Mitchell P. Morley
Contents
Genesis
Our story begins
in 1993, when two sophomores, Jason Zengerle and Ben Siegel,
sensing a void in Swarthmore’s student publication lineup,
decided to begin a general interest magazine.
Taking their inspiration from the brevity and punch of
magazine titles such as Punch!,
and seemingly with a nod to Dave Eggers’ Might,[1]
Zengerle and Siegal christened their brainchild Spike.
A logo was readily found at the local Genaurdi’s grocery store
in the form of Spike brand pepper seasoning. A less obvious
connotation of this name is the sense it carries particular to
the publishing world when used as a verb—apparently the
founders expected to bring the most exacting standards to the
work they accepted and can many an inchoate, piece-of-shit
article. As it turns out, according to Zengerle, very little
editing was actually done. The staff and contributor enlistees
during the Zengerle/Siegel tenure, however, would prove diligent
to the point of incredulity; only once did a writer fail to
follow through on his assignment, offering only the excuse that
“something bad happened.” (Later editors would envy the
courtesy of such quasi-forthrightness.)
The conception and
survival of the magazine would seem to be an impressive enough
feat in itself, and indeed, as they were not yet allowed to
reach into the deep coffers of the (now defunct) Forum For a
Free Press, the magazine’s editors sought to secure its
existence by selling advertising to local businesses on the
Baltimore Pike. Although these entrepreneurial ventures were of
a questionable success, Spike
was able to remain fiscally afloat and establish itself as a
worthy publication on the Swarthmore scene through its editorial
prowess and stubbornness. The focus of the magazine in these
years was on the college; it would seem that the rivalry with
the Phoenix began in earnest from the get-go, as the Spike
reporter’s beat at the Essie Mae snack bar was in conflict
with the traditional paper’s territory.
(Spike managed to scoop the Phoenix with its interview of the Tarble guy.)
Such a mission did not, however, mean that the magazine
relegated itself to dry reportage. On the contrary, some of the
greatest material from this period reaches beyond the confines
of campus and into the realm of the absurd. To wit: a small
rodent of a canine graces Spike’s
second issue, appropriately entitled “Doggie!”
Strath Haven got a taste of the Spike
treatment when a journalistic maverick went undercover to
report from the trenches of the hell that is public high school.
Perhaps most importantly for the future of the magazine,
the Zengerle/Siegal era saw the first “Haikus of Hate,”
which, for the uninitiated, are not only some of the most
vulgar, offensive, and disgusting doggerel one might ever
encounter, but also constitute one of the only features to
continually appear in the magazine over its thirteen-year
history.
The most daring piece of investigative journalism to
appear on the magazine’s pages was a product of these early
days; it was noteworthy not only for its boldness, but also for
the near disastrous consequences it had for the magazine.
The origins of the assignment are obscure; sources
suggest that an intrepid freelancer with only the vaguest of
instructions took it upon himself to test the security of
college offices. Finding many of these unlocked in the wee hours
of the night, the writer duly filed his report on their
vulnerability to theft. It
is unclear how this reporter might have otherwise taken
advantage of the access of the office; perhaps he went through
trash; perhaps he hacked into academic records; he might even
have performed unspeakable and execrable acts of excrement-based
desecration. We just don’t know.[2]
In any case, a furor was raised, the deans were brought
in, and the continued existence of the magazine was brought into
question. If not for the compassion of deans Goundie and Gross,
this history might have been a much shorter one.
>>The Dark Ages
[1]
It will be striking to the peruser of Might
and Spike how much
the latter owes to the former in spirit; however unwitting later
editors may have been of this debt.
[2]
You’ll probably get a better idea by looking at the
now-ubiquitous “Meaning of Swarthmore” book, the last
article of which, penned by Zengerle, discusses this incident.
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