Erick Lyle, a.k.a. “Iggy Scam,” has made a living out of living for free (and teaching others how to do it too). Since 1991, when he distributed the first issue of Scam in any way that he could — appropriately enough using stolen postage stamps and mail scams — Lyle has shown punks the possibilities of squatting, stealing, and resisting the restrictions of capitalist, corporatist America. The first four issues of Scam are now available in a hefty, polished paperback volume from Microcosm, ready for a new generation of punks to carry on the fight.
Based on his experiences of living in a shared “punk house” in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, and later squatting with girlfriend Ivy in Miami, Lyle has collected a lot of knowledge and stories about dumpster diving, spray painting, shoplifting, and avoiding cops. Scam is incredibly dense and referential; most of it is handwritten in various stages of legibility, and it seems to be directed almost exclusively at the early ’90s Floridian reader. But its stories of free and (not so) easy living will be compelling for anyone who has ever thought of rejecting society’s rules and dropping out of the system.
Like any zine, there are letters to the editor — or more often, reprinted court summons — as well as book and music reviews, comics, and short stories. Accounts of scams done well and scams gone awry are balanced with a good amount of practical advice. By now, most of the scams are outdated; this was 1991, when UPC barcodes were just coming into their own, and many stores didn’t bother with entryway scanners.
Making your own wine from frozen orange-juice concentrate (as Lyle does) is all well and good, but the best parts of Scam are the acts of social resistance. In the first issue, Lyle reprints, in full, a newspaper article covering a Fort Lauderdale-area artist whose mural was painted over with the slogans “Feed the Poor,” “Cure AIDS Now,” and “No More War.” The distressed artist responds, “Hey, I’m all for feeding the poor and no more war and curing AIDS, but this isn’t the way to do it.” Later issues feature stories like “Fight Back with Feces: True Life Story of a Crude and Shocking Attack,” or “But Was it Art?!? Behind the Scenes at Miami’s Vandalism Art Show.” Creativity (and some willingness to get your hands dirty or brave arrest) is a form of social resistance in Scam.
Some of the advice is outdated and nearly impossible today (I don’t know how many major food manufacturers would still send free coupons in response to a disgruntled customer letter, but someone should try it). Some, like cutting out UPC barcodes of cheap products and pasting them over those of more expensive items, seem more quaint than useful. But others, like looking into local college events for free food or taking advantage of student discounts as a non-student, are now so widespread as to seem normal, not subversive. Lyle seemed to have foreseen the co-opting of his culture into the mainstream and often complains about Green Day, punk imitators, hipsters, and straight-edge kids.
The point of this anthology is not its practicability but its inspiration. As Lyle says in the introduction, “It would be a mistake to view this anthology merely as a historical document, whether of a Miami that no longer exists or of a punk-rock utopia still waiting to be born. Scam is, and always was, not about specific scams but about The Scam. It is about finding a way to live free and fight back at all times.” Scam lives on today, but it’s fascinating and inspiring to look back at its beginnings and possibly learn something new about creative resistance.