So far this project has focused on the emergence of F5 in the early 1980s and Gunderloy specifically. I’m still working on trying to understand this emergence, especially the ways in which zines in the 70s and 80s were part of a wider, weirder assemblage that included not just punk and sci-fi communities, but counterculture, drug culture, and the occult (faux or not). In his book, Erik Davis dubs this high weirdness, “a mode of culture and consciousness that reached a definite peak in the early seventies, when the writers and psychonauts … pushed hard on the boundaries of reality—and
One “organization” that was mentioned in early issues of F5 was The Church of SubGenius. Perhaps the best introduction to this bizarre pseudo-religion is via the recent documentary, J.R. ‘Bob’ Dobbs and the Church of the SubGenius (2019). In his “review” of the Church in Issue 1, Gunderloy wrote that the Church would: “…reveal your true nature, and that of the world about you, for another of your hard-earned dollars. Anyone who gives serious thought to the questions of religion will either be offended or amused by this cheesy fly-by-night scam, but at least they are a scam of good
The title “Factsheet Five” was inspired from a story by British sci-fi writer John Brunner. Yet, in true zine fashion, Gunderloy didn’t announce this from the get-go. Rather, in a section in Issue #1, he implored his readers to guess the reference through a contest: “First person to identify the source of the title will win something. I have no idea what and do not guarantee it will be worthwhile or fun.” By Issue #2 — started just 25 days later — guesses and other correspondence from readers were pouring in. As the project grew in length (from a double-sided
Mike Gunderloy published the first issue of F5 via a run of 50 copies, printed on a double-sided single sheet of paper dated May 4, 1982. While Wikipedia notes that he made Issue 1 ”on a spirit duplicator in his bedroom in a slanshack in Alhambra, California” the issue itself says he was “now at” Hyde Park, the southernmost neighborhood in Boston where his then-partner was pursuing a PhD at Harvard. Dubbing it “a collection of notes on current publications and what-not,” subject to “æditorial whim,” and ending with the Discordian phrase “HAIL ERIS!” in the flipside’s footer, Gunderloy set