Paul Pena

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Deep Blues

Bluesman Paul Pena’s amazing journey

By Greg Cahill

CALL IT AN EPIPHANY. Looking for a way to keep his mind off his depression that accompanied his wife’s debilitating illness, Paul Pena in 1984 turned to searching short-wave radio broadcasts for foreign-language lessons. “Rather than crawl into a bottle for the rest of my life, I wanted something to occupy my mind,” says Pena, noting that his wife’s long illness and subsequent death had left him severely depressed. One night he encountered eerie, oscillating whistles that immediately caught his attention. “At first, I thought the radio’s diode had blown out,” says Pena, a blind bluesman who penned the 1977 Steve Miller hit “Jet Airliner” and whose 1973 “lost” album New Train (Hybrid) was released last month to critical acclaim, “but then I realized there was a discernible melody. So I listened some more and discovered it was Radio Moscow and the sound was a guy singing two notes at once.

“Oh, man, all my training told me that was impossible, but I became determined to learn it!”

It took years to track down (the radio announcer had given the wrong pronunciation of the singer’s origin), but Pena eventually figured out that the strange sounds he heard that night were the work of a polyphonic throat-singer from the isolated Republic of Tuva in Central Asia.

And, most remarkably, Pena eventually mastered the difficult technique.

The rest is history, thanks to a film documentary by Roko Belic. His Genghis Blues chronicles the amazing journey that in 1995 took Pena from urban San Francisco to a remote region of the Asian continent, where he became the first Westerner to participate in a rigorous throat-singing symposium. He befriended the legendary Tuvan throat-singer Kongar-ol Ondar. Pena, who mastered the low resonant kargyraa throat-singing style, was dubbed “The Earthquake” by the Tuvans.

The documentary had its world premiere at the 1998 Mill Valley Film Festival and screened last month on the Sundance Channel (the long-awaited soundtrack finally was released in February on the San Francisco-based Six Degrees label). The film makes a poignant statement about the impact cross-pollination is having on these deeply held musical traditions while revealing the wealth of musical knowledge the world possesses.

Pena, who also contributed to the critically acclaimed 1997 CD compilation Deep in the Heart of Tuva: Cowboy Music from the Wild East (Ellipsis Arts), is helping spread the gospel about the arcane vocal technique he mastered, which until recently had been deemed impossible by most musicologists.

He believes that Genghis Blues could open a whole new world for Western audiences. “I think this is an important musical technology that for the most part we haven’t been made aware of,” he says. “I’d like to see someone who is well known use it to make more people aware of it. You don’t have to just do Tuvan traditional music with it. Our CD is a combination of Tuvan traditional, blues, and Cape Verdean morna.

“For all intents and purposes, this is a wholly new instrument. I’d like to see it develop.”

Paul Pena performs Saturday, March 17, at 9 p.m. at the Powerhouse Brewing Co., 268 Petaluma Blvd., Sebastopol. Tickets are $12. 707/829-9171.

From the March 15-21, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Open Mic

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Open Mic

Ripe Pickin’

By John Amodeo

MATURITY? Oh no, not that. Who wants to be mature? It sounds stiff, stuffy, and old! No one wants to be accused of that in our youth-crazed culture. A mature relationship? Sounds like no fun at all! If we were mature, we might have to look at ourselves when a relationship flounders. Why take any responsibility for conflicts or difficulties? Why consider that we may have played a part in a relationship’s demise or give even a fleeting glance to the legacy of broken hearts we may have left behind? It’s more satisfying to blame, accuse, and complain: “There are just no good men around!” “Women are so bitchy and unreasonable!”

There’s no surplus of psychologically healthy, love-ready human beings without emotional baggage. But it’s unpleasant to consider that we may be among the wounded souls who push away the very love we want. It’s easier to see others’ flaws than perceive our own, to notice how we’ve been hurt rather than recognize how we’ve hurt others, even if unintentionally.

“Mature” evolved from the word meaning “ripe.” It implies a full glow–sweet, full of flavor, ready to be enjoyed. Entering our 30s, 40s, 50s, and beyond is an especially ripe time to enter a path toward deeper love because we can draw from a wealth of life experience. Maturity means finding the courage to look at our own dark side and how it plays itself out in the arena of our relationships. It means taking responsibility to heal our own wounds and defensiveness so that we become more safe, approachable. It means developing the skills and awareness necessary to connect with our own authentic heart, while simultaneously connecting with the hearts of others. It means learning how to create an environment that invites love toward us and allows new depths of intimacy to unfold. Moving toward maturity may also mean seeking help that’s available in our community–perhaps therapy, workshops, or groups.

Before we can find true love, we may need to abandon hope–not in love itself, but in love’s alluring cousin: naive, romantic love. Rather than lament that something we’ve always longed for has never happened, we can commit ourselves to learning how to have a more intimate relationship with ourselves as a prelude to having one with others. We may then delight in the rich and vital partnerships and friendships available to those who’ve examined themselves deeply enough to know how to dance in the light and in the darkness.


John Amodeo, Ph.D. , is author of the new book ‘The Authentic Heart: An Eightfold Path to Midlife Love.’ He practices psychotherapy in the Sebastopol area and San Rafael.



From the March 15-21, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Maintained by .


New Century Chamber Orchestra

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Young blood: Krista Bennion Feeney steps up as new music director for the Grammy-nominated New Century Chamber Orchestra.

String Fever

NCCO’s new director has passion for innovation

“RELAX, close your eyes, and just let go,” suggests Krista Bennion Feeney, her voice growing soft and hypnotic. “Close your eyes,” she repeats. “Wherever the music takes you, go there. Let your left brain drop away, and let the music sink in. Don’t think about it. Just relax.

“And keep your eyes closed.”

This might sound like some New Age guided-visualization tape. But actually it’s the way Feeney–an accomplished violinist and the recently appointed music director and concertmaster of the New Century Chamber Orchestra–believes an audience should prepare itself for the music of the late John Cage.

“I usually close my eyes when I listen to music,” Feeney explains. “Especially with Cage, because he requires a concentration that is intense. There’s a lot of stillness in his work that is very Eastern. It puts me into a trance.”

Cage, of course, is the pioneering American composer who shattered musical conventions with his rule-breaking experiments. His compositions challenge ears and expectations, inspiring audiences and musicians alike to reconsider their relationship to music–and almost sparking a few concert hall riots along the way.

“Some people hate it,” Feeney admits with a laugh. “It’s so different from what people expect to hear in a concert hall.

“Western classical music is heard in a very different way,” she says. “With Western music, you sit in the audience, and it’s like you go on a little journey. You leave from your home and you travel to beautiful places. By the end, you’ve come safely back to where you started. Home again.

“With the music of John Cage, though,” she concludes, “you never leave home. You’re just there.”

IF FEENEY seems slightly unconventional–both conversationally and musically–it only goes to illustrate why the 40-year-old virtuoso is a perfect fit with the New Century Chamber Orchestra. After all, this Grammy-nominated ensemble has a reputation for pushing the envelope.

Founded by former Bay Area violinist Stuart Canin, the San Francisco-based company boasts 17 members–and no conductor. During live performances, the musicians take their cues from one another, performing standing up. The informality of this arrangement creates a remarkable sense of intimacy and allows an unprecedented level of spontaneity. Feeney joined the NCCO last year, replacing the outgoing Canin after a national search for an artistic director with collaborative inclinations and very creative ideas.

How creative? Consider the New Century Chamber Orchestra’s March program.

“Time Past and Time Present”–to be presented just four times over four days at four Bay Area locations–is an interweaving of Antonio Vivaldi’s popular masterpiece The Four Seasons with Cage’s lesser-known Quartet in Four, itself a meditation on the seasons of the year.

Feeney has devised an innovative program, alternating between Vivaldi and Cage to contrast the composers’ musical styles and broaden the meditative experience. The program will begin with Cage’s “Summer,” then move into Vivaldi’s “Autumn,” spinning through the year until it all cycles back to Vivaldi’s “Summer.”

Of particular importance to Feeney is the fact that each musician has an opportunity to shine. “You’ll have a chance,” she explains, “to hear every single person in the orchestra play at least one solo.”

Adding spice to the event, the musicians will take turns reading the rarely mentioned lyrical poems that Vivaldi wrote to accompany The Four Seasons. Each poem will be read in its original Italian, then in English, accompanied by performances of corresponding musical “scenes”–orchestral re-creations of gnats and biting flies, the strike of lightning, the lonely crying of a shepherd boy.

“I’m curious to see what will happen,” Feeney remarks gleefully, adding that the unusual structure of the program was designed, in part, to allow audiences to experience Cage in smaller doses. “I love the introspection of Cage, and there’s a lot of outwardly joyful playing in the Vivaldi that will be calmed by the Cage.

“I don’t think Cage would be uptight about our doing that,” she adds, laughing. “It’s not a sin or anything. He was a pretty flexible guy.”

FLEXIBILITY seems to be a guiding principle for Feeney. A native of Menlo Park, she’s performed as a member of the Orchestra of St. Luke’s and the San Francisco Symphony, and with the New York String Orchestra in performances at Carnegie Hall and the Lincoln Arts Center.

With St. Luke’s Chamber Ensemble, she played on 10,000 Maniacs’ 1989 song “Jubilee.” With the renowned Loma Mar Quartet, she performed at Linda McCartney’s 1998 memorial service, playing original quartet arrangements that Paul McCartney composed for his wife. Feeney and Loma Mar recorded those and other McCartney pieces as part of the former Beatle’s 1999 CD Working Classical.

“There was never a conscious choice about becoming a musician,” Feeney explains. “When I was growing up, we lived with my grandmother in a big house with three pianos. We were surrounded by music all day long, European folk music, classical music, some popular music. It was a very important part of my life.

“I can’t imagine living without it,” she adds.

Joining the NCCO has been a delight, Feeney readily remarks, even though the commute–she now lives in upstate New York–is a killer.

“I’ve benefited so much from being a part of this group,” Feeney says, “It’s been good for my playing. It’s been good in so many ways.”

Future programs include one that Feeney can only hint at. She plans to take a particular rock-and-roll album and reinterpret the songs for the NCCO. “It won’t be like the Boston Pops,” she promises. “We won’t be doing orchestral versions of rock songs. We’ll be doing real rock and roll, as a 17-piece orchestra.”

Just talking about it makes Feeney laugh.

“We are programming things knowing that certain people are going to take objection,” Feeney admits. “We do it anyway. New Century is committed to doing something daring on every program. That’s our reputation, and that’s what we’re striving for. In this Cage and Vivaldi program, it is a bit daring, but it will also be fun.

“I think it’s obvious,” Feeney says, “that I like concerts to be fun.”

From the March 15-21, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Bonnie Hayes

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Raw Energy

Local songstress Bonnie Hayes is back with a vengeance

By Paula Harris

“IN A WAY I’m more of a rock ‘n’ roller than I ever was,” huskily declares Marin County singer-songwriter Bonnie Hayes, clad in jeans and boots and hanging out in her San Anselmo home-cum-recording studio one recent Sunday morning.

“I always used to want to polish things up,” she continues. “But I just think that as I got older I figured out how important it is to not take the rough edges off things.”

The self-described “40-something” Hayes was well known around these parts more than a decade ago when her band Wild Combo was hot on the local club circuit. When she grew weary of lugging her keyboard and equipment to various venues, Hayes turned to songwriting for others. She found fame penning such hits as “Have a Heart,” “Love Letter,” and “Slow Ride” for another Bonnie–last name Raitt–and writing pop songs for other artists.

After a stint living in Los Angeles, Hayes has returned to Marin County, and she’s going back to her wilder roots. Always a keyboard player, Hayes has found renewed power in the (infinitely more portable) guitar, which she took up a couple of years ago.

Hayes is planning to show off her freshly inspired raw music with local appearances and a new record, currently in the works.

On Saturday, March 17, Hayes will strut onstage at the Luther Burbank Center and play her latest love, a classic 1966 Fender Mustang guitar. She’ll also be accompanied by her younger brothers–Santa Rosa resident Chris Hayes (former guitarist for Huey Lewis & the News) and Novato resident Kevin Hayes (drummer with the Robert Cray Band).

They will play a set of three songs (including a new one written by Bonnie) as part of the Music for Kids at Risk Celebrity Concert II .

“I didn’t know much about [the benefit concert], but when I found out what the deal was, I agreed to it,” Hayes explains. “And partly why I agreed to do it is so that I could play with my brothers. I don’t get to play with them very much.”

On April 16, Hayes will play a full-length gig at the Sweetwater of Mill Valley.

Hayes explains she moved back to Marin County to provide a better sense of community for her 7-year-old daughter. She has continued to write, she teaches songwriting courses throughout the Bay Area, and she has also begun producing for other artists in her home recording studio.

Her biggest project is a record that’s currently very much in progress. Hayes and brother Kevin were recording drum tracks this week. “We set up the drums and the mikes in the bedroom,” she says. “We’re really having fun.”

The as-yet-untitled album should be out by the end of the year.

“The new record will be very stripped-down, rough-sounding guitar music because that’s what I’m into,” Hayes says. “It will be quite rowdy, that I can promise!”

Bonnie Hayes will perform Saturday, March 17, at the Music for Kids at Risk Celebrity Concert II, from 7 to 11 p.m. Les Claypool of Primus, members of the Doobie Brothers, the Santana Band, and others also will appear. Luther Burbank Center, 50 Mark West Springs Road. Tickets are $35-$100. 707/546-3600.

From the March 15-21, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

‘One Flea Spare’

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One Flea Spare.

‘Flea’ Circus

The plague’s the thing in perplexing psychodrama at AT

IT’S A TIME-HONORED, peculiarly theatrical formula: you take a handful of strangers, a colorful assortment of types, and toss them into a confined environment for a long period. After they bicker and flirt and form alliances, they will ultimately (hopefully) tear one another to pieces.

Naomi Wallace’s Obie-winning play One Flea Spare sets up the same Survivor-esque scenario–four people quarantined together in a boarded-up London house during the plague of 1665. But the playwright is clearly not interested in formulaic storytelling. Wallace uses the familiar setup as a launching pad for something loftier, simultaneously deconstructing the play’s premise as she turns it into a series of lyrical and brutal Rorschach tests that seem certain to suggest different things to different people.

The result, currently onstage in Santa Rosa in an Actors Theatre’s production directed by Brian Newberg, is both poetic and perplexing, often exhilarating–especially in the unconventional beauty of Wallace’s dialogue–and frequently repellent.

William and Darcy Snelgrave (played by Allan Armstrong and Kimberly Kalember) are wealthy Londoners who’ve just been released from a 28-day quarantine of their home after their servants died of the plague. Before they have a chance to flee the city, however, their house is invaded by two intruders: Bunce, a foul-mouthed sailor (energetically embodied by Argo Thompson), and Morse, a beautifully dressed 12-year-old girl (Veronica Pesek and Rose Kleiner, alternately) who says she’s the daughter of dead aristocrats.

The introduction of newcomers into the Snelgrave residence brings down the quarantine police, and the house is boarded up once more. Everyone has a story to tell and secrets to hide, and before the boards on those doors are lifted, some of these people will be dead–and not necessarily of the plague.

Actors Theatre’s matter-of-fact staging of the play, like the play itself, has its strengths and weaknesses. A hard show for any cast, Flea is emotionally demanding and jaw-droppingly brutal, subjecting its actors to a whole catalog of onstage humiliations, including masturbation, urination, and one pivotal episode of drooling. The Actors Theatre cast, uniformly good at playing out the story’s icky extremes, seems, on the other hand, to be oddly overwhelmed at other times, as if still unsure of some of the material.

Not at all subdued is Steve Howes in the play’s smallest role of the bullyish Kabe, a loutish, half-demented ruffian recruited to guard the houses in the Snelgrave’s neighborhood. Whether singing, flashing, or prancing half-naked with a plate of coals on his head (yes, you read that right), Howes is mesmerizing.

In the part of Morse, Kleiner (who handled the part the night I saw it) shines whenever called upon to be eerily precocious, as when Kabe crudely exposes himself to the girl and she brilliantly stares him down. “So you’re a man, then,” she wryly observes. During her narrative moments, however, Kleiner seems overwhelmed and fails to believably give life to Wallace’s words.

As Mr. Snelgrave, Armstrong has a masterful way with a withering stare and an expressive voice that he uses to layer on emotions, burying the sound of rising panic just beneath a cracking crust of snide condescension. Kalember plays the wounded Mrs. Snelgrave with a different kind of crust–a bitter hardness that melts spectacularly during one movingly manic-depressive sex scene.

‘One Flea Spare’ continues through April 7 at Actors Theatre, Luther Burbank Center, 50 Mark West Springs Road, Santa Rosa. For details, call 707/523-4185.

From the March 15-21, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Newsgrinder

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Important events as reported by daily newspapers and summarized by Daedalus Howell

Tuesday 03.13.01

Sixteen years ago, convicted felon Jeffrey Campbell escaped from the Marin County Jail in a laundry cart, then mailed his jailors a postcard. Now “Wish you were here” ain’t so funny anymore–yep, he’s back in the pokey, reports the Marin Independent Journal. Defense attorney Kim Kruglick argued that Campbell (who changed his name to Leslie and became a registered nurse during his years on the lam) should be granted probation for being a “healer.” Says Kruglick, “He’s shown that he could be a better man.” At the time of his capture, Leslie, the “better man,” was wanted in Michigan for fleeing prosecution after allegedly stealing prescription painkillers from a local hospital. “If I could go back and change things, I would,” Campbell said. No word if this includes picking a cooler pseudonym.

Tuesday 03.13.01

A fifth-grade boy, with apparently no idea how tough it is to get into a good university, just shot his future full of holes. The 11-year-old was arrested and suspended from Sebastopol’s Pine Crest School for making death threats against three teachers and the principal during recess, reports the Press Democrat. The boy faces expulsion from school and a hearing in Sonoma County Juvenile Court, and will be required to write about a “formative educational experience” in his college application essays (forget about letters of recommendation, kid). Dawn Johnson-Huff, the wannabe assassin’s school principal says, “It was more or less an angry child blowing off.” Yeah, his future. Talk ain’t so cheap anymore, kids.

Sunday 03.11.01

Coming to a neighborhood near you: The IJ reports that hazardous-waste experts from the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers have discovered methane spreading underground from the defunct Hamilton Field military base. Besides the gas, volatile organic compounds (no relation to the punk band) and other suspected carcinogens are wafting from the ground like a gaseous specter of death toward the site of a proposed housing development. Possible solutions include breaking down the gas with oxygen, building a rock-filled trench around the landfill to disperse the gas, lighting a match, and running away very, very quickly. “Let them complete their report and let the experts tell us what the problem is and what they’re going to do about it,” bravely says nearby resident Kurt Hansler. “In the meantime, I’m not going to lose any sleep, and my hair isn’t going to get any grayer.” No, dude, it’s just going to fall out during chemotherapy.

Wednesday 03.07.01

Two thumbs down: The Argus-Courier reports that the curtain is going down on Pacific Theatres Petaluma because the last picture show cannot compete with its sibling, the larger Rohnert Park 16-screen stadium theater; both are owned by the Pacific Theatres Corp. (their marketing plan revealed!). In lieu of the vicarious cinematic experience, bored P-townie teens are expected to experiment with sex, drugs, violence, and cannibalism.

From the March 15-21, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

‘Frankie & Johnny’

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Love Story

Older couple takes chance on romance in ‘Frankie & Johnny’

by Yosha Bourgea

THE RAMBUNCTIOUS opening night crowd at Sonoma County Rep was so ready for a play like Frankie & Johnny in the Clair de Lune that it began laughing the moment the house went dark and squeaking bedsprings and sounds of coital bliss started coming from the stage.

Frankie & Johnny, written by Terence (Lips Together, Teeth Apart) McNally, was once the basis for a movie starring Michelle Pfeiffer and Al Pacino. The two leads in SCR’s production are Diane Bailey and Steven David Martin, who look not a thing like their glamorous film counterparts and who are, for that reason among others, especially well suited to their roles.

Frankie & Johnny is a funny, poignant dialogue between a middle-aged man and a middle-aged woman just beginning to fall in love. He is the new short-order cook at a New York diner, she the veteran waitress. They notice each other at work, go out on a date, and end up in her apartment having sex. The sex is great, but afterward–in a reversal of the old gender cliché–Frankie wants to be left alone, and Johnny isn’t ready to go.

Bailey, the director of more than 20 plays at SCR, is entirely believable as the wary, pragmatic Frankie. She has a kind of tough resignation that seems to come from living alone in New York City and from having been around the proverbial block too many times. Like any experienced waitress, she has suffered a lot of fools–but not gladly.

Martin’s Johnny is not foolish, but he is sometimes a ham in the way that men can be when they’re trying to impress women. His earthy exuberance ranges between that of Zorba the Greek and Joe E. Brown in Some Like It Hot. Zowie! He’s effusively in love with Frankie, even though they’ve just met, and he has no problem expressing himself.

Frankie, on the other hand, regards his puckish behavior as first bewildering, then more and more annoying. Her complacency is seriously ruffled, and the distance to which she is accustomed has been breached by a strange, persistent man who won’t stop praising her beauty, no matter what insults she hurls at him. “You want too much,” she says defensively. “I’m a BLT sort of person, and I think you’re looking for someone a little more pheasant under glass.”

Johnny is undaunted by her resistance, unwilling to retreat from intimacy, determined to win her over. Martin plays him with relaxed self-confidence and a kind of virility that has nothing to do with machismo. Because he pitches most of the woo, Johnny gets most of the laughs, and in less skilled hands he could seriously upstage Frankie. Not this time. Martin and Bailey generate real chemistry, balancing each other attentively on the stage.

Director and set designer Jim DePriest has given his actors a rather drab apartment to be in, aside from four small posters of the Beatles that I didn’t really believe Frankie would hang right above her bed. But the sink works, and the whole audience can smell the Western omelet that Johnny cooks on the stove, further enhancing the intimacy of the small theater.

This is a play to see with someone you love. Playwright McNally says, “The story is a celebration of people who follow the yearning and are willing to enter the joust once more.”

‘Frankie & Johnny in the Clair de Lune’ runs through April 7 at the Sonoma County Repertory Theatre, 104 Main St., Sebastopol. Tickets are $15. For reservations, call 707/823-0177.

From the March 15-21, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

DEA Crackdown on Drug Paraphernalia

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Bongs Away

Feds vs. bongs: Heads up for head shops

By Philip Smith

ADAM ENGLEBY thought everything was cool. Yes, his shop, Hemp Cat in Iowa City, sold, ahem, “smoking accessories,” or bongs, pipes, and rolling papers, but the Iowa City Police Department visited regularly, and they never had any problem with Hemp Cat’s back room. Heck, Engleby even had signs in his store advertising the accessories as being for use with tobacco, he wouldn’t allow any talk about drugs in the shop, and he certainly didn’t allow minors into the back room. And after all, Iowa City is a progressive, tolerant college town, and local police reflected the relaxed attitude.

The Iowa City Police Department’s Sgt. Brotherton has said as much. “We [didn’t] see [the Hemp Cat] as a major problem,” he said. “We weren’t paying much attention.”

But what was an acceptable arrangement for the community wasn’t good enough for the feds. On Feb. 11, Engleby’s home and business were raided by teams of civilian-dressed law officers, headed by the Drug Enforcement Administration.

“The DEA led the raids,” Engelby said. “The only badge I was shown was a DEA badge. They had warrants for ‘drug paraphernalia’ and any sort of records, and they took everything. They took our rolling papers, they took real tobacco pipes, and, of course, they seized all of our computers–four of them, two at the store and two at home. They even took my wife’s computer.

“The Iowa City PD never hassled us in six years of business,” groaned Engleby, “and no one ever came in and told us to stop, no one complained.”

No one was arrested, Engleby said, and no charges have been filed, but Engleby has now joined a growing number of “alternative store” (the industry cringes at the term “head shop”) owners and operators being rudely awakened to the reality of federal drug-paraphernalia laws.

UNLIKE MANY state and local paraphernalia statutes, which allow for a subjective, contextual interpretation of whether a given object is indeed drug paraphernalia–sometimes a spoon is only a spoon–federal law is black and white: Possession of a bong is a federal offense, and so, of course, is the sale or manufacturing of a bong, or conspiracy to do so. It can get you three years in federal prison. And it doesn’t matter if the bong has never been used or if it is a jewel-encrusted work of art; a bong is a crime. And to make things even rosier, since 1990 federal law has made drug-paraphernalia violators subject to Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organization (RICO) and money laundering charges, as well.

“It’s simple,” said head-shop defense attorney Robert Vaughan, the longtime publisher of an industry newsletter. “If you have a bong, you’re violating federal law. You can get a license to own a Tommy gun, but you can’t get one to own a bong.

“Stores that have bongs are screwed,” the Nashville-based lawyer said. “They can’t win. The Supreme Court upheld its so-called objective standard in U.S. vs. Pipes and Things in 1994, and now categories of items are per se illegal.”

That was news to Engleby and his customers. “The customers are really disappointed. They’re saying, ‘Can they do that?’ ” Engleby said. “Everyone is shocked that the DEA has that kind of power. One City Council member came in to express his support; he didn’t think it was right.”

Unfortunately for Jerry Clark and Kathy Fiedler of Des Moines, they were already well aware of federal paraphernalia laws. Their shop, Daydreams, was raided by the feds last year, and they are scarred by the experience.

“We were raided by U.S. Postal inspectors, the DEA, and local cops and sheriff’s deputies,” Clark said, “and we’re barely hanging on now. It’s hurt us financially; we’ve lost over $250,000 in inventory and paid out lots of money in legal fees.

“And they’re using the RICO act on us, so we’re facing 10 to 12 years,” he said bitterly. “They’ve seized my partner’s properties under the asset forfeiture laws. But all we can do is try to litigate our way out or come to a negotiated settlement. We’re trying to work out a better deal than going to court.”

“We weren’t aware of the federal law,” interjected Fiedler, “but let’s face it, we weren’t the only ones. We did everything to the letter of the law as we knew it, we did not sell to minors, we checked IDs; if they didn’t have IDs, tough luck.”

Clark and Fiedler remain in business, but they are angry. “This is a bullshit law,” snorted Clark, “and you have to get mad at the people who created this stupid law. But,” he hesitated, “looking at the penalties we face, we’re not going to do anything to rock the boat.”

“We don’t feel like felons,” added Fiedler, more hurt than angry. “These people don’t have any idea who’s smoking–they think it’s the kids, but our customers are lawyers, preachers, even people from the state Attorney General’s Office. They’re nice, average people, but instead of drinking a six-pack, they’d prefer to smoke things.

“Morally, I see nothing wrong with what we’re doing,” she insisted.

So who ordered the raids? Hard to say. Repeated calls to the DEA were referred to the U.S Attorney’s Office in Des Moines, and they didn’t return calls. The Iowa City Police Department’s laconic Lt. Wyss, who coordinates the Johnson County Multi-Agency Task Force, did confirm that his officers participated at the DEA’s request.

When asked why his officers were devoting their time to busting bongs, Wyss said: “Because they violated the law, I suppose. The DEA asked us, and we were happy to help.”

Attorney Vaughan, who is representing Clark and Fiedler, finds it all faintly ridiculous were it not for the serious consequences.

“With Operation Pipeline they managed to knock out all the big boys,” he said, “but all they’ve created is a whole multilevel cottage industry, and lots of these people don’t even know about the federal law, they don’t have any historical memory of Pipeline, and enforcement is sporadic. What a waste of time and resources and people’s lives.

“It’s as if the feds were out arresting the guy smoking a joint on the corner,” he said.

This article comes from the newsletter of the Drug Reform Coordination Network.

From the March 8-14, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

‘The Mexican’

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Tough Talk

‘Wild at Heart’ author sneers at wimpy Pitt film

Writer David Templeton takes interesting people to interesting movies in his ongoing quest for the ultimate post-film conversation.

“W ELL, the dialogue stinks.” This six-syllable assertion has been uttered by author Barry Gifford, standing beside me in the mushy evening mist outside the theater where our threesome has just seen the new Brad Pitt-Julia Roberts flick The Mexican.

Gifford is an author, a screenwriter, a playwright, and a poet. He’s best known for the novel Wild at Heart, for the screenplay of David Lynch’s Lost Highway, and for the best-selling book of film criticism, Out of the Past: Adventures in Film Noir. He enjoys a worldwide reputation as a tough-talking, one-of-a-kind American writer with an unconventional body of work. He lives in Berkeley, not far from Vinnie Osorio, the other member of our little group.

Vinnie, a pal of Gifford’s since they were both 13, has earned a unique reputation of his own over the last few years, since Vinnie accompanies Gifford to most of his appearances and interviews. According to Gifford, a major magazine in Rome planned a piece on Gifford, but was so impressed with Vinnie–a self-described “Buddhist plumber”–that the resulting article was as much about Vinnie as it was about Gifford.

Gifford clearly enjoys this development.

“He gets half of all my interviews now,” Gifford says, smiling oh so slightly. He adjusts his jacket as the mist turns to rain, while Vinnie offers his own summation of the film.

“It was hilarious,” he says.

“The dialogue stinks,” repeats Gifford. And with that we go off in search of a drink.

THE MEXICAN is a strange hybrid. An action-adventure-comedy with mystical undertones, it follows the dual stories of a sad-sack thug (Pitt) sent to Mexico to fetch a legendary pistol named The Mexican, and the thug’s neurotic girlfriend (Roberts), who is taken hostage by a sentimental hit man (James Gandolfini) to ensure that Pitt returns with the goods.

At the heart of the film are the gooey “relationship” chats that Roberts shares with the surprisingly New Age hit man. The dialogue is strewn with the catch phrases of modern psychology: “You’re not validating me,” “I’m a giver, you’re a taker,” and “Let’s take a time out.”

Vinnie loved it. Gifford didn’t.

“All the men vs. women stuff was OK,” Gifford allows, sipping a vodka as we perch on a row of stools at a nearby bar. “But it was tiresome.”

“You don’t realize how much of that psychobabble shit really goes on,” Vinnie remarks. “I thought their relationship was the most realistic thing in the movie. All that carping and bitching, the constant postulating, the pop-psychology theories used to justify their own egocentricities. I’ve heard so much of that crap in my life you wouldn’t believe it.”

“Well, when I hear the word relationship–as the saying goes, I reach for my Luger,” jokes Gifford. “But seriously, I agree that the relationship talk was stuff we hear all the time, but it wasn’t funny. The script needed a rewrite.

“Let me ask you something, Vinnie,” Gifford continues. “Why is this couple together? Let’s see, she says that he’s a generous and kind lover, but we don’t get anything else.”

“Oh, I know exactly why she’s with him,” Vinnie replies. “She’s with him because he listens to her. He’s a lug and a criminal and he gets exasperated with her, but he listens, and obviously nobody’s been listening to her in a long, long time. Would you?”

Gifford wouldn’t.

Which brings this conversation to the big moral point of the movie, as symbolized by The Question–the simple test as to whether a relationship will last. Roughly paraphrased, the question is: If two people really love each other but just can’t get along, when do they say enough is enough?

The movie’s answer? Enough is never enough. If two people truly love each other, they’ll never give up.

Gifford’s answer isn’t so sweet.

“I think it comes to a point where, you know, the repetitiousness of it all finally wears you out,” he says. “You get tired. You just get so goddamn tired. That’s when it’s time to say, ‘Enough is enough.'”

Hardly the stuff of self-help books, but kind of catchy.

“Now, if the other person is capable of changing, really doesn’t want to lose the good parts, there’s still a chance,” Gifford adds. “I think people’s ability or inability to change, to want to change, is the key to the whole thing. You have to be able to recognize when the other person is just not going to ever be secure enough to satisfy you.”

Vinnie nods.

“Security,” Gifford says. “That’s the thing.”

“The first thing you have to do is be comfortable with yourself,” Gifford goes on. “It’s an old adage. It’s a cliché. But it’s nevertheless the main truth of the whole matter. Once you are comfortable with the way you are, then it’s really up to the other person to accept or not accept you. That is the answer to the question about when enough is enough.

“In this movie,” he says, “the answer is very shallow. The people are shallow. The whole movie is shallow. Better dialogue would have helped.”

“But, Barry, I’ve known so many people like that it’s frightening,” Vinnie insists. “I’ve known women like that.”

“Fine, so The Mexican was realistic in that one thing,” Barry Gifford gives in. “But the dialogue still stinks.”

From the March 8-14, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Usual Suspects

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Marin recall losing its luster

By Greg Cahill

ERIN BROCKOVICH will not be using her star power to save a floundering recall campaign against Marin County District Attorney Paula Kamena. Last week, a coalition of angry family law advocates and medical marijuana supporters announced incorrectly that Brockovich–the environmental law crusader portrayed by Julia Roberts in last year’s popular film by director Stephen Soderbergh–would be attending a press conference to lend her clout to a bid to unseat Kamena. Not so, said a spokeswoman for Brockovich.

Now the recall campaign itself is drawing fire for the latest in a string of apparent dirty tricks.

A letter from Edward Masry, a partner in the Southern California law firm that employs Brockovich, cited in the Marin Independent Journal, stated that someone has been masquerading as the celebrity legal eagle by using fake stationery to write letters to California State Supreme Court Chief Justice Ron George and another judge to complain about alleged abuses in family law matters. Masry went on to state that someone has been using Brockovich’s name “to further a cause that she has no association with or knowledge of.”

Lynette Shaw of the Marin Alliance for Medical Marijuans reportedly told the IJ she was surprised to hear about the Brockovich incident. Shaw, who helped plan the press conference, said that she is convinced Brockovich “was misrepresented.” In a statement to the paper, Kamena characterized the recall campaign as lacking in credibility, noting that the incident should call into question the viability of complaints against her. “This reminds me of the jury instruction about witnesses being willfully false,” she said. “It says a witness who is willfully false in one material part of his or her testimony is to be distrusted in others.”

Meanwhile, a classified ad appearing in the San Francisco Chronicle last week listed a job opening for a Marin County district attorney. Among the qualifications: “Integrity a must.”

Two separate groups–one angry over child-custody decisions and the other miffed about the county’s medical marijuana policies–joined forces last fall in an eleventh-hour bid to force a May 22 special recall election.

No one has stepped forward to run against Kamena.

Nation Wide

STATE ASSEMBLYMAN Joe Nation, who won a seat in the Legislature last year, isn’t wasting any time making a name for himself during the energy crisis. Nation has proposed a conservation-based program that would charge a higher rate for those using more than the amount of power allocated in previous years.

The program, for residential and commercial users, would require the installation of real-time meters to help users gauge the rate of consumption and the cost of that power at any given time. The proposed tiered-rate system probably would go into effect first for businesses. It is estimated that the state will face a 30 percent shortfall in electrical power this summer, despite the announcement this week that Gov. Gray Davis has signed long-term contracts with energy suppliers. California consumers, who were asked to curtail energy use this winter, have decreased consumption overall by just 8 percent.

Meanwhile, Nation–who sits on the Assembly’s Utilities and Commerce Committee–will discuss his proposal and other energy-related matters on March 28 at the monthly dinner meeting of the Santa Rosa Democratic Club. There will be an open-mic session for audience participation. Among the topics that Nation will discuss are public conservation measures; energy efficient homes; the feasibility of solar, wind, and nuclear power; and the possibility of state ownership of utility companies, power plants, and transmission lines.

The dinner meeting will be held at the Santa Rosa Memorial Veterans Building, 1351 Maple Ave., Santa Rosa. The meeting begins at 6 p.m. with a mix-and-mingle session, followed by dinner at 7 p.m. Admission to the event is free, though dinner costs $7 with reservations ($9 without). For details, call 575-0128.

On a side note, the conservative Bush administration has been very, very good for the local Democratic Club. SRDC President Liz Basile reports signing 24 new members, bringing membership up to 325. “In a way, Bush is doing us a favor because we’re beginning to see active Democrats up in arms over his policies,” she says. “It’s very scary what’s happening.”

Usual Suspects loves tips. Email us at Su******@******an.com

From the March 8-14, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

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