Though The Beaver has evolved through the decades, its penchant for substantive news coverage and hard-hitting commentary has never dwindled. Here’s a look at the history of our paper from its inception to the present day.
1949
“Bernard Shaw Greets the Beaver,” announced our first ever front page headline, which featured a brief postcard from Shaw that reads, in part, “Socialism will abolish classes :
Beaver should organize the sets.” The editors had been hoping for an article from the famed playwright and activist–who played a hand in LSE’s founding decades earlier–but nonetheless thanked him for his “major contribution to provocative thought.”
On the second page, a witty, ironically self-aggrandizing political cartoon catches the eye. At the inaugural meeting of the “Newspaper Proprietors’ Protection Association,” an enraged representative for Esquire beseeches his terrified, shivering competitors at the Times, Hearst, the Daily Worker and Pravda for unity. “So Gentlemen,” he declares, “either we sink our differences and stand together or this new publication ‘Beaver’, will put us all out of business.”
On the fourth and final page, the classics: review and sport. A contributor going by the initials P.E.B. pens a scathing review of a film entitled “Angelina,” which they describe as “slackly directed, loosely constructed, unduly repetitive . . . and technically appalling,” while a piece about the Women’s Hockey Club begins “Women who play hockey are usually thought of as hardened Amazons.”
1954
The Beaver’s early years were tumultuous. After five issues between 1949 and 1950, the Beaver stopped publishing for two years. The exception was a one-off “revival,” in 1952–an 8-page pamphlet withtypewriter font, lacking in the usual frills but still brimming with substantive content. By 1953, the Beaver was back in action, this time as a more LSE-centric publication.
The editors of this era weren’t afraid to delve into the divisive socio-political topics of the day. The May 1954 edition featured provocative headlines such as “Are Women Wasted Here,” “Homosexual Controversy” and the first of a series: “Pretty Girls of LSE.”
Though these headlines may, to the modern observer, seem crass and antiquated, further inspection finds that they were actually commentaries ahead of their time: they chronicled and championed progress on such topics, rather than arguing for continued conservatism. Even Pretty Girls of LSE featured questions exclusively about academics and career, with the stated goal being to provide “pictoral evidence that at L.S.E. beauty still goes with brains”
University life and politics were front and center in this new and improved version of the Beaver. From writing about the Beaver’s rivalry with other student publications–including Clare Market Review, and a short-lived rival paper called Gennet–to “Voices of Houghton Street” to letters to the editor about Student Union and other campus affairs, with one arguing for “More Money for Beaver”.
1964
Oh the times, how they change. The screaming 60s brought with them a new Beaver, fit for the times. Retro, metamorphosing, chronicling the massive shifts taking place both at LSE and in society at large. One edition in late 1964 showcases these changes marvelously.
The issue took on an increasingly dire situation for the LSE at the time: too many students. In an editorial entitled “LSE secession,” the board pitched an exit from London University as a solution to the problem. It had led to overcrowded
classroom and increased construction projects, which in turn caused noise that made the library “only marginally more conducive to study than Paddington Station.”
In a segment called “frankly speaking” the editors of the 60s did what today’s editors often propose to do, but fail to execute: interview professors. In this edition, it was Bernard Crick, a senior lecturerand renowned political theorist. In it, Crick posited that the recent Labour election–which had elevated Prime Minister Harold Wilson–was due to “something of the revolt against the jobbery, snobberyand incompetence of the English gentleman,” adding “I hate gentlemen.”
This edition added some new creative eccentricities. Such is true with political satire, which this edition featured in the form of an abridged verse fromexodus wherein a Jesus-like figure stood for election as the “Chief Prophet” of the “MOB” people.
1973
From the latter part of 1960s to the 1970s, special editions became a regular presence. Two editions in 1969 featured artfully drawn satirical cartoons lamenting the state of modern higher education on their front pages.
In March 1973, the editors published the “Evening Beaver,” a one-off issue seemingly parodying tabloid newspapers. On the front page, in massive lettering, was the headline “I FRIED MY FATHER.” The summary of the article read “a London School of Economics Professor professor shocked witnesses today when he confessed to frying and eating his father, while isolated in a Clare Market Office last week.” The graphic for the article was a large photo of a donkey.
In an editorial, the Beaver editors wrote that “the new front page format was chosen after careful consideration” and that “we hope that our new format, along with our increased coverage Nevertheless, even in this light-hearted issue, the serious content remained as cutting edge as ever. Including editorials on Toryism and the India-Pakistan conflict, there were features on Greek students fighting fascism, marijuana policyand the Wounded Knee Massacre.
The latter piece, a grim overview of the state of native Americans, summarized the situation thusly: “Wounded knee is not just a colourful name for a massacre, it is the culmination of 600 years of the most systematic and savage race extermination this world has seen, something to put Auschwitz into the Kindergarten class”
1986
The Thatcher years were fraught with political divisiveness and fierce debates. Who better to chronicle those than the Beaver? On the front cover of the December 1986 issue, the prominent political and social issues of the day–rather than just LSE or SU-related stories, as had dominated previous front covers–were front and center.
“Barclays Dumps South Africa,” read the main headline. The article discussed a major victory for the anti-Apartheid movement, which was rapidly gaining steam at the time, especially among university students. Further down, another piece discussed the AIDS epidemic and the efforts to ameliorate it destructive effects.
One particularly notable aspect of this issue is the identity of its Executive Editor–Paul Klebnikov. APhD student from America, Klebnikov would go on to journalistic prominence, becoming chief editor of Forbes Magazine in Russia. In that role, he made a name for himself as a hard-hitting investigative journalist.
Unfortunately for Klebnikov, Russian society c. 2004 was not at all receptive to information-seekers trying to keep those in power honest. Klebnikov was murdered by a contract killer in what would become one of the most internationally high-profile assassinations of its era. To this day, the true identity of his assassin’s patron remained a mystery–suspects include a Chechen rebel leader and a powerful oligarch.
1993
If the 1990s was the era of punk Gen X 20-somethings and the rise of grunge, then the Beaver editors were either acolytes or contributors to that fad–or both. For all of Lent Term 1993, the Beaver’s logo eschewed a traditional V for something a bit more risque. The V was instead replaced with two fingers giving the V-sign (for international students, the v-sign with the palm facing the signer is a disrespectful and derogatory gesture in Commonwealth culture, akin to the middle finger). What better way to say “fuck you” to the powers that be?
Beaver articles from this era had an original and idiosyncratic air to them. They combined much of the early Beaver’s biting, tongue-in-cheek humor with a new cynical twist. Articles vocally lamenting the state of things, like “Co-operating with Corporate Finance. Who’s responsible for this bad joke?” and “Blood, Bolshiesand the Balcony, the last ten years of political life at LSE,” were commonplace. One edition, in lieu of traditionalfront page headlines, simply featured a picture of a young Mick Jagger looking angsty, despite the fact that there was no Mick Jagger or Rolling Stones-related content in the paper.
The editors of today’s Beaver would probably have a few points of contention with the 90s editors. While the formatting is somewhat similar, there are clear differences in substance. We don’t even agree on the proper birthday of the Beaver! The editors of 1993 believed that the true Beaver as we know it was founded not in 1949, but after the sabbatical between 1950 and 1952. The 1953 version, they argue, “becamerecognisable as the forerunner oftodays ’ Beaver” and therefore “it is this anniversary we are celebrating.”
2004
This is the decade when the Beaver we know today began to take shape, though there were some key differences. For one, the Beaver was massive–an astounding 40 pages in 2004. Yet the substance took on the more serious, straight news tone it has today. The Beaver of the 2000s also adopted the most LSE-centric news beat as had yet been seen.
One issue in October 2004 contained a staggering number of news stories. Over a dozen pieces were printed on everything from the makeup of the University of London Website to exam reform to structural problems at the Garrick and Passfield to the growth of LSE, both innumber of students and number of halls.
Even features stuck close to home. Though there were articles pitching a debate between Michael Howard and Tony Blair, and arguing in favor of the concept of human rights, there was also an interview with an evangelist preacher who often congregated nearby LSE. The author wanted to find out whether the preacher was “a dangerous lunatic or merely an eccentric with a message.”
Though there were some sections that we may not recognize today–such as “Blink,” an analysis section encompassing law, features, politics and international–this edition also featured B:art , a precursor to Part B and Flipside.
2019
The 2010s were one of the Beaver’s most volatile eras. This decade has seen the creation of many short-lived sections. Innovation, the Union, the City were all consigned to the dustbin shortly after their inceptions. At the same time, the wellspring of funding that the Beaver had enjoyed from the Union had begun to dry up. Between 2012 and 2018, the number of pages dropped from 40 tothe 24 it has today.
But even as the page numbers halved, the largest transformation in the Beaver’s history took place. Flipside engulfed a third of the paper. It is the boldest and most creative innovation that the Beaver’s editorial board has ever made.
The Beaver’s reporting has not lost its hard-hitting edge. 2019 has featured groundbreaking news stories on the Consent Now campaign and the impact of LSE Love on student life. We’ve also conducted interviews with prominent figures such as Alastair Campbell, Paul Preston, Vernon Bogdanor, and Sebastian Payne.
Although Executive Editor Adam Solomons’ premiership has included a rocky and often hostile relationship with the SU and internal strife, the future of the Beaver looks bright. Student interest in the paper is as strong as ever, and with a new staff gearing up to take the reins, LSE can look forward to what the Beaver has in store for them.
