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                Imprimis, On Line  -- November, 1992
        
        Imprimis, meaning "in the first place," is a free
        monthly publication of Hillsdale College (circulation
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                     ------------------------------
        
                      "Hollywood's Poison Factory:
                   Making It the Dream Factory Again"
                           by Michael Medved
                       Co-Host, "Sneak Previews"
        
                     ------------------------------
        
                          Volume 21, Number 11
              Hillsdale College, Hillsdale, Michigan 49242
                             November 1992
        
                     ------------------------------
        
        Preview: One of Hillsdale's most popular speakers ever,
        PBS film critic Michael Medved addressed an audience of
        over 400 students, faculty and outside guests on campus
        last March at the Center for Constructive Alternatives
        seminar, "Culture Wars." In this edited version of his
        remarks, he notes that in recent decades Hollywood has
        lost touch with its own audience, and that it has
        openly attacked the family, religion, traditional
        values, and genuine heroes. Medved argues persuasively
        that, goaded by disastrous box office receipts, the
        industry can be changed, but that we must all get
        actively involved.
        
                     ------------------------------
        
        America's long-running romance with Hollywood is over.
        For millions of people, the entertainment industry no
        longer represents a source of enchantment, of magical
        fantasy, of uplift, or even of harmless diversion.
        Popular culture is viewed now as an implacable enemy, a
        threat to their basic values and a menace to the
        raising of their children. The Hollywood dream factory
        has become the poison factory.
        
             This disenchantment is reflected in poll after
        poll. An Associated Press Media General poll released
        in 1990 showed that 80 percent of Americans objected to
        the amount of foul language in motion pictures; 82
        percent objected to the amount of violence, 72 percent
        objected to the amount of explicit sexuality, and by a
        ratio of 3 to 1 they felt that movies today are worse
        than ever.
        
             In reality, you don't need polls or surveys to
        understand what is going on. When was the last time you
        heard someone say, "You know, by golly, movies today
        are better than ever!" Only Jack Valenti, the head of
        the Motion Picture Association of America, can make
        such statements with a straight face. There is a
        general recognition even among those Americans who
        still like to go to movies that their quality has
        declined. And this has begun to register in disastrous
        box office receipts.
        
        
                    Hollywood's Dirty Little Secret
        
        There is a dirty little secret in Hollywood. For movie
        attendance, 1991 was the worst year in fifteen years.
        The summer season was the worst in twenty-three years.
        Forty percent of Americans report that they don't see a
        single film in the course of a year--a higher
        percentage than ever before. What Hollywood publicizes,
        of course, is total box office gross receipts, which
        look respectable, but which are misleading. Why?
        Because the ticket prices have been raised so much! If
        you actually count the number of warm bodies sitting in
        theater seats, movie attendance has disastrously
        declined.
        
             Major studios like MGM and Orion are teetering on
        the verge of collapse. Carolco, which produced
        Terminator II, the year's biggest hit, has since scaled
        back all operations and fired one-third of its
        employees. This is clearly an industry in trouble.
        
             Rather than searching for solutions, Hollywood
        looks for scapegoats. The most common line is: "It's
        the recession," but this ignores, among other things,
        the fact that in the past the movie business has always
        proven to be recession proof. Economic downturns
        generally saw the movie business profit as people
        sought escape.
        
             In recent articles, a few critical colleagues
        believe they have discovered the culprit--blaming all
        of Hollywood's woes on one "over-the-hill" ex-Warner
        Brothers actor who hasn't worked in movies for some
        thirty years. His name is Ronald Reagan. Somehow, this
        former President was supposed to have singlehandedly
        destroyed the quality of American film.
        
             What Hollywood insiders refuse to recognize is
        that the crisis of popular culture is at its very core
        a crisis of values. The problem isn't that the camera
        is out of focus, or that the editing is sloppy, or that
        the acting is bad. The problem is with the kind of
        stories Hollywood is telling and the kind of messages
        that it is sending in film after film. The industry is
        bursting with professionalism and prowess. But it
        suffers from a sickness of the soul.
        
             Hollywood no longer reflects--or even respects--
        the values that most Americans cherish.
        
             Take a look, for example, at the most recent
        Oscars. Five very fine actors were nominated for best
        actor of the year. Three of them portrayed murderous
        psychos: Robert DeNiro in Cape Fear, Warren Beatty in
        Bugsy, and Anthony Hopkins in The Silence of the Lambs
        (this last a delightful family film about two serial
        killers--one eats and the other skins his victims). A
        fourth actor, Robin Williams, was nominated for playing
        a delusional homeless psycho in The Fisher King. The
        most wholesome character was Nick Nolte's, a good old
        fashioned manic-depressive-suicidal neurotic in The
        Prince of Tides.
        
             These are all good actors, delivering splendid
        performances, compelling and technically accomplished.
        But isn't it sad when all this artistry is lavished on
        films that are so empty, so barren, so unfulfilling?
        Isn't it sad when at the Academy Awards--the annual
        event that celebrates the highest achievement of which
        the film industry is capable--the best we can come up
        with is movies that are so floridly, strangely whacked
        out?
        
             I repeat: The fundamental problem with Hollywood
        has nothing at all to do with the brilliance of the
        performers, or the camera work, or the editing. In many
        ways, these things are better than ever before. Modern
        films are technically brilliant, but they are morally
        and spiritually empty.
        
        
                              The Messages
        
        What are the messages in today's films? For a number of
        years I have been writing about Hollywood's anti-
        religious bias, but I must point out that this
        hostility has never been quite as intense as in the
        last few years. The 1991 season boasted one religion-
        bashing movie after another in which Hollywood was able
        to demonstrate that it was an equal-opportunity
        offender.
        
             For Protestants there was At Play in the Fields of
        the Lord, a lavish $35 million rainforest spectacle
        about natives and their wholesome primitive ways and
        the sick, disgusting missionaries who try to ruin their
        lives. And then for Catholics there was The Pope Must
        Die, which was re-released as The Pope Must Diet. It
        didn't work either way. It features scenes of the Holy
        Father flirting with harlot nuns and hiding in a closet
        pigging out on communion wafers. For Jews there was
        Naked Tango, written and directed by the brother of the
        screenwriter for The Last Temptation of Christ. This
        particular epic featured religious Jews operating a
        brutal bordello right next door to a synagogue and
        forcing women into white slavery.
        
             And then most amazingly there was Cape Fear, which
        was nominated for a number of the most prestigious
        Academy Awards. It wasn't an original concept. Cape
        Fear was a remake of a 1962 movie in which Robert
        Mitchum plays a released convict intent on revenge who
        tracks down his old defense attorney. Gregory Peck
        portrays the defense attorney, a strong, stalwart and
        upright man who defends his family against this crazed
        killer. In the remake, by Last Temptation director
        Martin Scorsese, there is a new twist: the released
        convict is not just an ordinary maniac, but a "Killer
        Christian from Hell." To prevent anyone from missing
        the point, his muscular back has a gigantic cross
        tattooed on it, and he has Biblical verses tattooed on
        both arms.
        
             When he is about to rape the attorney's wife,
        played by Jessica Lange, he says, "Are you ready to be
        born again? After just one hour with me, you'll be
        talking in tongues." He carries a Bible with him in
        scenes in which he is persecuting his family, and he
        tells people that he is a member of a Pentecostal
        church.
        
             The most surprising aspect of this utterly
        insulting characterization is that it drew so little
        protest. Imagine that DeNiro's character had been
        portrayed as a gay rights activist. Homosexual groups
        would have howled in protest, condemning this
        caricature as an example of bigotry. But we are so
        accustomed to Hollywood'sinsulting stereotypes of
        religious believers that no one even seems to notice
        the hatred behind them.
        
             The entertainment industry further demonstrates
        its hostility to organized religion by eliminating
        faith and ritual as a factor in the lives of nearly all
        the characters it creates. Forty to fifty percent of
        all Americans go to church or synagogue every week.
        When was the last time you saw anybody in a motion
        picture going to church, unless that person was some
        kind of crook, or a mental case, or a flagrant
        hypocrite?
        
             Hollywood even removes religious elements from
        situations in which they clearly belong. The summer of
        1991 offered a spate of medical melodramas like
        Regarding Henry, Dying Young, and The Doctor. Did you
        notice that all these characters go into the operating
        room without once invoking the name of God, or
        whispering one little prayer, or asking for clergy? I
        wrote a nonfiction book about hospital life once, and I
        guarantee that just as there are no atheists in
        foxholes, there are no atheists in operating rooms--
        only in Hollywood.
        
              Religion isn't Hollywood's only target; the
        traditional family has also received surprisingly harsh
        treatment from today's movie moguls. Look again at Cape
        Fear. The remake didn't only change the killer; it also
        changed the hero, and this brings me to the second
        message that Hollywood regularly broadcasts. As I
        mentioned, the original character Gregory Peck plays is
        a decent and honorable man. In the remake, Nick Nolte's
        character is, not to put too fine a point on it, a
        sleazeball. He is repeatedly unfaithful to his wife;
        when his wife dares to question that practice, he hits
        her. He tries to beat up his daughter on one occasion
        because she is smoking marijuana. He is not a likeable
        person. That a happily married, family-defending hero--
        the kind of person that people can identify with--is
        transformed into a sadistic, cheating, bitter man, says
        volumes about the direction of American movies.
        
             Did you ever notice how few movies there are about
        happily married people? There are very few movies about
        married people at all, but those that are made tend to
        portray marriage as a disaster, as a dangerous
        situation, as a battleground--with a long series of
        murderous marriage movies.
        
             There was Sleeping with the Enemy, in which
        Patrick Bergin beats up Julia Roberts so mercilessly
        that she has to run away. When he comes after her, she
        eventually kills him. There was also Mortal Thoughts in
        which Bruce Willis beats up his wife and he is killed
        by his wife's best friend. In Thelma and Louise, there
        is another horrible, brutal and insensitive husband to
        run away from. In A Kiss Before Dying, Matt Dillon
        persuades twin sisters to marry him. He kills the first
        one and then tries to kill the second, but she gets to
        him first.
        
             In She-Devil, Rosanne Barr torments her cheating
        husband Ed Begley, Jr., and in Total Recall, Sharon
        Stone pretends to be married to Arnold Schwarzenegger
        and tries to kill him. When he gets the upper hand, she
        objects, "But you can't hurt me! I'm your wife." Arnold
        shoots her through the forehead and says, "Consider
        that a divorce." And then there was a more recent film,
        Deceived, starring Goldie Hawn. The advertisement for
        the movie says, "She thought her life was perfect,"
        and, of course, her model husband turns out to be a
        murderous monster. Deceived is an appropriate title,
        because we all have been deceived by Hollywood's
        portrayal of marriage. It even applies to television.
        The New York Times reports that in the past TV season
        there were seven different pregnancies. What did six of
        the seven pregnancies have in common? They were out of
        wedlock. The message is that marriage is outmoded, it
        is dangerous, oppressive, unhealthy.
        
             But is it true? Recently, I made an interesting
        discovery. The conventional wisdom is that the divorce
        rate in America stands at 50 percent. This figure is
        used repeatedly in the media. But the 1990 U.S. Census
        Bureau has a category listing the number of people who
        have ever been married and who have ever been divorced.
        Less than twenty percent have been divorced! The
        evidence is overwhelming that the idea of a 50 percent
        divorce rate is more than a slight over-statement; it
        is a destructive and misleading myth.
        
             Yet for years Hollywood has been selling divorce.
        Remember The Last Married Couple in America, starring
        the late Natalie Wood? That may be a Hollywood
        prophecy, but it is not the reality of the American
        heartland. In this matter, as in so many others, by
        overstating the negative, the film industry leads
        viewers to feel terrified and/or insecure, and their
        behavior is adversely affected. I know many people who
        say, "I'm reluctant to get married because I know
        there's a 50 percent chance I'm going to get divorced."
        Wouldn't it make a difference if they knew there was an
        80 percent chance of staying together?
        
             Another negative message is America-bashing. This
        is a very patriotic country, one of the most patriotic
        countries in the world. Let me get personal for a
        minute: My mother was born in Germany. She was lucky
        enough to get out with her family in 1935. There were
        other family members who were not fortunate enough to
        get out, and most who stayed behind died in Hitler's
        holocaust. In any event, my mother had a first cousin,
        Hans, who also got out of Germany, and within a year of
        arriving in the United States, speaking only broken,
        heavily-accented English, he enlisted in the Army Air
        Corps. He became a tail gunner and flew 25 bombing
        missions. On the last, when he was 21 years old, he was
        shot down and killed over Romania. His parents, for
        whom he was the only child, had a little shrine in
        their home ever afterwards, with an American flag and a
        picture of Hans in his airman's uniform. They often
        used to say, "We're proud that he died for this
        wonderful country."
        
             I relate this story not because it is exceptional
        but because it is typical. Don't we all have personal
        stories that show our love, our pride, our gratitude
        for being born in this amazingly fortunate situation in
        which we find ourselves? The luckiest people on earth--
        that's how most Americans feel. But what do they see on
        their movie and television screens? What is the dream
        of America that is portrayed? It is a dream of a
        nightmarish land, where nothing is going right, where
        evil powers dominate. Consider for example that full-
        color, breathless guided tour of the fetid fever swamps
        of Oliver Stone's paranoid imagination--the movie JFK,
        a tale in which Stone suggests a conspiracy so grand,
        so enormous, so corrupt that it involves absolutely
        every conceivable American institution and organization
        except the CampFire Girls.
        
             Oliver Stone's nightmare has increasingly become
        Hollywood's dream of America. Once upon a time, one of
        the ways that my immigrant mother, and my immigrant
        grandparents on my father's side, learned about America
        was through movies. Movies glorified the American past,
        and some of them were very good, like Drums Along the
        Mohawk or Young Mr. Lincoln. Today, if Hollywood made a
        movie about young Mr. Lincoln he would be an abused
        child and grow up to be corrupt and power-lusting.
        
             The American past, according to Hollywood, is
        mainly about the rise of evil businessmen and the
        "exploitative" capitalist system, or, alternately,
        about the supposedly glorious 1960s. There are a
        plethora of phony Sixties nostalgia movies clearly made
        by people who are determined to glorify all those who
        protested against the Vietnam War and to insult all
        those who actually fought it. Is there a more insulted
        and abused group of people than Vietnam vets? You
        always see them with twitches, right? They're always
        weird guys. If a screenwriter needs to come up with an
        explanation for why a character is a crazed killer,
        there is always: "Oh, he was in 'Nam." But three
        million Americans fought in Vietnam and they are not
        all crazed killers.
        
             The other era that the movies tend to focus on
        obsessively is the 1930s, with those wonderful dramatic
        elements of negativity, the Depression and gangsters.
        The glories of our history? Forget it.
        
             In 1985, there was an attempt to make a movie
        about the American Revolution that cost $35 million and
        showcased Al Pacino, his Brooklyn accent firmly intact,
        as a soldier in the Continental Army. But this movie
        made the Americans the bad guys! Did it take a genius
        to tell Warner Brothers that if you make a movie about
        the Revolution that runs two and a half hours and makes
        the Americans the bad guys, no one will want to see it?
        
             Recently, we went through an amazing national
        experience when America rallied with a unanimity that
        has not been seen in my lifetime behind Operation
        Desert Storm. Many commentators predicted that there
        would be a glut of movies about it. Wouldn't Hollywood
        be eager to exploit the Gulf War? Not one is currently
        in production or even in development.
        
               By contrast, there are currently five major
        studio projects in development about the Black Panther
        Party--that tiny, briefly fashionable gang of thugs who
        murdered many of their own members. An industry that
        thinks that the American people are more interested in
        the Black Panthers than in the genuine heroes of our
        armed forces is an industry that is profoundly out of
        touch.
        
                             The Motivation
        
        What is the motivation behind the messages Hollywood is
        sending? Some people say, "Well, you know, the movie
        business is perfect capitalism; it's merely giving the
        people what they want."
        
             But a simple analysis of the controversial content
        of recent films and their corresponding box office
        performance shows that this is not the case. Over 60
        percent of all the feature films are now rated "R"--
        despite the fact that they consistently earn less money
        than those rated "G" or "PG." In 1991, PG-rated films
        drew a median box office gross three times larger than
        R-rated films--but Hollywood persists in keeping the
        majority of its releases as gore-and-sex drenched R-
        rated shockers. Is this an example of responding to the
        public?
        
             Hollywood expresses its underlying values most
        clearly with those projects which it considers serious
        "art" films--films that make some philosophical or
        political statement. Consider the 1990 bomb, Guilty by
        Suspicion, a dark, tragic tale of an idealistic,
        blacklisted left-wing director in the 1950s. How could
        Warner Brothers possibly assume it would make money on
        this very expensive Robert DeNiro project--especially
        when more than a half-dozen previous films about the
        horrors of the McCarthy era had all failed miserably at
        the box office?
        
              Or take a look at the three gigantically
        expensive film biographies that are coming out in 1992.
        You know what they're about? They're about three
        terrific American heroes. One of them is Jimmy Hoffa,
        played by Jack Nicholson. The second is about Malcolm
        X, directed by Spike Lee. The third is about Charlie
        Chaplin, specifically about his struggles with
        McCarthyism during the 1950s and about how he
        eventually had to flee to a self-imposed exile because
        of his left-wing politics.
        
             If we can assume that the primary purpose of these
        movies, each of which will cost tens of millions of
        dollars, is not to make money, then what is it? Why
        does Hollywood persist in making films that so
        constantly revel in the dark side, in gloom and
        despair, destruction and horror? I'll try to offer a
        brief explanation, but it's a complicated psychological
        problem. Someone versed in clinical psychology might be
        better able to diagnose the situation.
        
             People in the movie business are motivated by a
        tremendous desire to be taken seriously. They don't
        want to be thought of as just entertainers. They want
        to be respected as "artists." And the view today is
        that in order to be a serious artist--to make a
        statement--you have to be removed from the mainstream
        in your own country.
        
             This view ignores all of Western history. Was
        William Shakespeare alienated from the Tudor monarchy?
        He wrote play after play glorifying Elizabeth's
        antecedents and became a court favorite. He was part of
        the establishment and proud of it. When Johann
        Sebastian Bach wrote the imperishable glories for which
        he is known, he wrote for Prince Leopold, for the
        elector of Brandenburg, and for the Church of St.
        Thomas in Leipzig. He composed more than 600 sacred
        cantatas and chorales, devotedly serving the religious
        hierarchy of his time.
        
             In the past, most great artists served and
        respected the society they lived in. To be sure, they
        were not content with all its aspects, but they weren't
        off on the sidelines wearing black turtlenecks saying
        that life is meaningless and bleak or immersing
        crucifixes in their own urine. Today the "serious
        artist alienated from society" syndrome has ruined the
        visual arts, poetry, and classical music. It has even
        begun to destroy popular culture, which heretofore has
        been more in tune with ordinary people.
        
             Today to win the highest critical praise, or to
        receive leading Oscar consideration, you have to make a
        movie that says life is short and bitter, and it
        stinks. Mel Brooks recently made the least successful
        movie of his career. Do you know what it was called?
        Life Stinks. Pretend for a moment that you are the head
        of MGM, and Mel comes to you and says, "Hey, I have an
        idea for a fun comedy called Life Stinks. Think that's
        gonna sell?" No, but it will help Mel get taken
        seriously as an "artist."
        
             These are not bad people. They are very well
        intentioned. There isn't a single AIDS benefit that
        they will miss. If there is any kind of dinner to save
        the rainforests, they are there. They want to be loved.
        But they earnestly believe that the only way they will
        receive respect from those who "count"--the critics,
        the industry heavyweights, the media, the intellectual
        elites--is to make brutal, bitter, America-bashing,
        family-bashing, religion-bashing movies.
        
        
                             What Do We Do?
        
        What do we do about it? At a recent conference on
        popular culture and values, I was on a panel that
        included Jack Valenti, William Bennett and Robert Bork.
        The question of regulating the content of movies came
        up. Interestingly enough, Judge Bork was generally in
        favor of government intervention, i.e., censorship. He
        pointed out that all law is based upon moral judgments.
        Law exists to influence the moral behavior of its
        citizens.
        
             This is certainly a convincing argument, but I
        don't think censorship is a good idea for one very
        simple reason: the government makes a mess of
        everything it does, and it would make a huge mess of
        determining what goes into movies! It always surprises
        me that conservatives, who understand that the
        government is remarkably inept, even at running the
        postal system, believe that state power can somehow
        suddenly be counted upon to raise the moral tone of our
        popular culture. It can't--forget it, it is only
        wishful thinking.
        
             This does not mean that we can't talk about values
        in movies. I have drawn a good deal of criticism over
        the years because as a professional critic I try to
        consider the values and the message in movies--not just
        their technical excellence--and I speak out about this
        in the national press and on television. It is vital
        that those considerations should play a more prominent
        role in our public discussions of contemporary cinema.
        That is alternative number one to censorship. No movie
        is morally neutral, no movie fails to send a message,
        no movie doesn't change you to some extent when you see
        it. Movies have a cumulative, potent and lasting
        impact.
        
             Another alternative to censorship is corporate
        responsibility. The great business conglomerates that
        are making entertainment have to exercise a more mature
        sense of social and corporate accountability. We are
        living in an age when increasingly we are asking
        corporations to be responsible for their pollution of
        the air and the water; why shouldn't they be
        responsible for the pollution of the cultural
        environment around us? In the same way that other
        activists use boycotts and stockholders meetings and
        every sort of public pressure, popular culture
        activists must develop a new sense of determination and
        resourcefulness. The impact of popular culture on our
        children and our future is too important an issue to
        leave in the hands of a few isolated movie moguls in
        Hollywood--or to self-important politicians in
        Washington.
        
             There are many indications that the entertainment
        industry may be eager to reconnect with the grass
        roots--and to entertain an expanded notion of its own
        obligations to the public. The industry has, in some
        areas, behaved responsibly. In the past five years it
        changed its message about drugs. No longer is it making
        movies in which marijuana, cocaine and other drugs are
        glamorized. Hollywood made a decision. Was it self-
        censorship? You bet. Was it responsible? Yes.
        
             We can challenge the industry to adapt a more
        wholesome outlook, to send more constructive messages.
        We can clamor for movies that don't portray marriage as
        a living hell, that recognize the spiritual side of
        man's nature, that glorify the blessings in life we
        enjoy as Americans and the people who make sacrifices
        to ensure that others will be able to enjoy them.
        
             The box office crisis put Hollywood in a receptive
        mood. Already two film corporations have committed to a
        schedule of family movies for a very simple reason:
        they are wildly successful. Only two percent of movies
        released in 1991 were G-rated--just 14 titles--but at
        least 8 of these 14 proved to be unequivocably
        profitable. (By comparison, of more than 600 other
        titles, at most 20 percent earned back their
        investment.) Look at Beauty and the Beast, my choice
        for Best Movie of 1991. It was a stunning financial
        success. We need many more pictures like this, and not
        just animated features geared for younger audiences.
        Shouldn't it be possible to create movies with adult
        themes but without foul language, graphic sex or
        cinematic brutality? During Hollywood's golden age,
        industry leaders understood that there was nothing
        inherently mature about these unsettling elements.
        
        
               Rekindling Our Love Affair with Hollywood
        
        People tell me sometimes, "Boy, the way you talk, it
        sounds as though you really hate movies." The fact is
        that I don't. I'm a film critic because I love movies.
        And I want to tell you something: All of the people who
        are trying to make a difference in this business love
        movies and they love the industry, despite all its
        faults. They love what it has done in the past, and
        they love its potential for the future. They believe
        that Hollywood can be the dream factory again.
        
             When I go to a screening, sit in a theater seat,
        and the lights go down, there's a little something
        inside me that hopes against all rational expectation
        that what I'm going to see on the screen is going to
        delight me, enchant me, and entice me, like the best
        movies do. I began by declaring that America's long-
        running romance with Hollywood is over. It is a
        romance, however, that can be rekindled, if this
        appalling, amazing industry can once again create
        movies that are worthy of love and that merit the
        ardent affection of its audience.
        
                     ------------------------------
        
        Michael Medved is known to millions of Americans as the
        co-host of the weekly PBS television program, "Sneak
        Previews." He is the author of seven nonfiction books,
        including the best-sellers: What Really Happened to the
        Class of '65? (with David Wallechinsky, Random House,
        1976), which became the basis for a weekly series on
        NBC, The Golden Turkey Awards (with Harry Medved,
        Putnam Perigee Books, 1980), and Hospital: The Hidden
        Lives of a Medical Center Staff (Simon and Schuster,
        1983). Mr. Medved has been a frequent guest on "The To-
        night Show," "Oprah Winfrey," "David Letterman," "ABC
        Nightline," "Today," "Good Morning America," and other
        programs. He is active in a wide variety of Jewish
        causes and is president of the Pacific Jewish Center in
        Venice, California. He is also a Hillsdale College Life
        Associate. This lecture is based on his latest book,
        Hollywood vs. America, which was published by
        HarperCollins and Zondervan in October 1992.
        
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