The house in the picture opposite is located at the corner of Dalton and 27th Street in one of Los Angeles' older Westside residential areas as the general looks of the place probably shows. At the suggestion of our business manager William Lambert, one-time owner of that Northwest-corner cottage, we repaired there on a sunny afternoon last week to witness the destruction of this obsolete dwelling.

What bygone memories this photograph evokes. Why are we carrying on this way? Well, the Dalton St. house was the home of ONE Magazine. And it never had occured to any of us founders that ONE's birthplace would not always be there whenever we wanted to pay it a visit. But like most other things of nostalgic value in Los Angeles, this unpretentious house fell in the way of progress.

Not so always, however. For exactly six years ago on a cool night in the middle of October, a handful of men sat sheltered in the warmth of the kitchen of the house and argued excitedly, though quietly, the formation of the magazine you are now reading: the name would be ONE it was decided; it would be typeset, not mimeographed; it would have high literary standards and contain articles, fiction, poetry, etc.; it would be "The Voice of U. S. Homosexuals."

But would a homosexual magazine be considered mailable matter? Could we guarantee anonymity to the subscribers? Could the magazine be sold on newsstands? Would enough people be interested and courageous enough to buy it in order to make is a success? Could the editors and publishers of ONE expect to be free from arrest for their trouble? The answer to all these questions gradually proved to be a decided, yes! The U. S. Supreme Court unanimously ruled that ONE is not obscene, that it can be sent through the mails, that readers need have no fear of intimidation or invasion of their privacy on the Magazine's account. The mailing lists cannot be confiscated.

One of the first subscribers to ONE was the late Dr. Kinsey. Hundreds of other doctors, many lawyers, clergymen, teachers, students and persons of all talents and inclinations now read ONE every month. And six years later, the influence of this little magazine is still spreading throughout the world.

So the old house on Dalton has probably done more than its neighbors to serve an unusual purpose, and not just provide a shelter for its leisurely California occupants.

Anyway, with feelings of tenderness we went down there the other afternoon to take a final look at the place. And as we trudged toward the corner, covered with gooseflesh, we could see the rafters bare against the sky. The roof was already gone. As we approached, a few disgruntled-looking men were milling around watching the wrecking process. In front of the house we encountered a young man holding a large boxer on leash. "I'm a designer," he volunteered. "I live around the corner. Too bad these old places have to go." We took a few steps backward and stood there on the curb watching the progress on the roof.

The Editors

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