North Bay Symphony Conductors

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Photos by Michael Amsler

Orderly Conduct

As North Bay symphonies prepare for the summer season, four conductors reflect on the state of the art

By David Templeton

Jeffrey Kahane Santa Rosa Symphony

JEFFREY KAHANE is telling a story. “I was reading this article,” he explains, perched comfortably on his sofa, sipping strong coffee while a cloud-challenged sun throws intermittent splashes of midmorning light across Kahane’s spacious Santa Rosa living room.

For an instant, a warm wave of sunshine washes over the family piano, illuminating the glowing white pages of two open songbooks: Bach’s Passion of St. Matthew and The Best of the Beatles–currently opened to the music for Yellow Submarine.

“Some college in the East had started a program to punish students,” Kahane is saying. “These are students who were having academic problems, and the punishment was that they were required, as an official form of detention, to go out and attend a symphony concert.”

Kahane, the conductor and musical director of the Santa Rosa Symphony, and also the conductor of the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra, now laughs at the notion of classical music as state-sanctioned torture.

“My first reaction, though,” he admits with a laugh, “was that I got really pissed off. I was infuriated. But then, of course, as I continued reading I had to chuckle. The article went on to say that a lot of those young people, after finally giving in and going to a concert, ended up saying, ‘Hey! Wow! This is great!’

“But the idea that classical music would ever be conceived of as a punishment,” he says, “is pretty appalling.”

Kahane was already a world-renowned conductor and pianist when, in 1995, he came to Sonoma County to take over the Santa Rosa Symphony, which had been in existence since 1928.

Now the ninth largest orchestra ensemble in California, the symphony has seen a remarkable resurgence of local interest: ticket sales have more than doubled over the last five years, with a paid subscriber base of over 3,000 people. That’s 2 percent of the overall population of Santa Rosa.

Demand is so great that Kahane has added a third performance night to every scheduled event and is looking at adding a fourth, an act that will make the Santa Rosa Symphony the only orchestra in America within its size and budget category to have to play four nights.

On top of that, this summer will see construction begin on the new concert hall on the grounds of Sonoma State University. When the hall opens in 2002, the symphony will host an international music festival featuring ensembles from around the globe.

“A lot of orchestras have rolled up into a ball and died in the last decade or so,” says Kahane, “and many of those that are still alive are only barely so. But in Santa Rosa we are experiencing the exact opposite.”

The reason for this culture boom, he says, is a combination of factors, including a high level of local affluence, a culturally ingrained appreciation of the arts throughout the North Bay, and a staunch refusal on the part of the symphony itself to be run-of-the-mill.

In fact, Kahane’s ambitious choice of material–from last season’s spectacular presentation of Benjamin Britten’s War Requiem to the recent program of radical works by Anton Webern–is far more likely to open eyes and ears and get the listeners’ hearts racing than to put anyone to sleep.

“Of course, with the Webern, a small number of people absolutely hated it,” Kahane says. “We even got one ‘Boo!,’ which was truly invigorating.”

He’s serious. Kahane loved getting booed.

“I’m not interested in towing the line down the middle of the road,” he says, “keeping everybody happy. It’s OK to annoy people once in a while. In fact, for an orchestra today, it’s vital.

“See, one of the problems with classical music is that it’s become too polite,” he adds. “It’s that old ‘snob phenomenon.’ It began a century ago, when symphonies somehow became the playthings of the wealthy, a symbol of status, a stuffy, upper-crust, upper-class, intellectual art form. But that’s absolute baloney. Classical music was never conceived of or intended that way.”

According to Kahane, the parts of the country where classical music is experiencing a resurgence, the North Bay included, are the very same places where young people are learning that classical music, often challenging and “in-your-face,” is anything but stuffy.

“It’s time,” says Kahane, “for young people to take back the music.”

Asher Raboy Napa Valley Symphony

ASHER RABOY has found what he’s looking for. Rising from the floor, he waves the CD he’s just extracted from the bottom shelf of a crammed music case. Gliding through his sunny, downtown Napa office, Raboy deftly sidesteps an antique Steinway piano and then maneuvers around a high-tech electronic keyboard-and-computer console on which he composes daily.

Next to his CD player sit the neatly stacked pages of a recent Raboy composition, “Orchestral Dances”–written for the 67-year-old Napa Valley Symphony Orchestra, of which Raboy has been musical director and conductor since 1990. The piece enjoyed its world premiere last month, in a rousing program that included an early work of Spanish composer Joaquin Rodrigo, a collection of French folk songs by Joseph Canteloube, and a symphonic tone poem by Antonin Dvorák.

Having loaded the CD into the player, Raboy steps back and waits. Two seconds later, the room is filled with the unmistakable voice and energetic melodies . . . of Bob Dylan.

“This is the CD that won all those Grammys a few years ago,” notes Raboy, appreciatively. “It’s really different for Dylan. It’s like 1950s music.”

Raboy, 43 years old and bursting with energy, hardly presents the staid, imperious, white-haired image one traditionally conjures up when thinking of a world-class symphony conductor. As adept at discussing the works of Bruce Springsteen as he is at dissecting Verdi’s operas or Dvorák’s symphonies, Raboy represents a new breed of classical conductor: young, feisty, and a little rebellious–definitely a child of the ’60s.

“I’m a born rock-‘n’-roller,” he confesses. “But I was a lousy rock-‘n’-roll musician.”

Born in New York, Raboy began learning the piano at the age of 5. He’s composed and conducted for orchestras around the nation, including the Hudson Valley Philharmonic.

As the director of the Napa Valley Symphony, Raboy has helped re-energize the North Bay music scene with distinctly unusual programming and performances that are designed to give classical music a shot in the arm. With a creative mix of old and new works–and irresistible events like the annual Labor Day Concert on the Bridge, where the full orchestra performs over the Napa River–the symphony has won increasingly enthusiastic fans.

With an aggressive outreach program in Napa Valley schools, Raboy hopes to inspire the next generation of classical rebels. Indeed, it’s the lack of widespread musical knowledge in the country that concerns Raboy the most.

“A century ago,” he says, “you were not considered civilized if you didn’t play the piano. By the time you heard Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony performed by an orchestra, you’d had your own fingers in that piece of music hundreds of times. Nowadays, there’s no pressing need to learn the piano because we can all just load our CD players instead. So the majority of people today no longer have a sophisticated knowledge of music.”

But, according to Raboy, changes are a-coming, led largely by the living composers of orchestral music.

“The new composers will be the salvation of classical music,” Raboy predicts, “because there’s a new breed of classical music that is very much like the music we grew up with in the ’60s and ’70s, in that it speaks directly to people today, with lots of energy and vitality. There are conductors who are now looking for that music, and we’re putting it on the stage, and the word is getting out.

“I think we’re about to see a complete revitalization of classical music,” says Raboy, grinning like a kid who just heard his favorite song on the radio. “You watch. The 21st century will be the century in which symphonic music moves to the forefront of the culture again.”

Gabriel Sakakeeny Cotati Philharmonic Orchestra

GABRIEL SAKAKEENY is standing tall. Literally. The lanky conductor and musical director of the fledgling Cotati Philharmonic has playfully clambered up onto a wooden bench (a pew, actually) to demonstrate the acoustics inside the beautiful sanctuary of St. Joseph Church.

A soaring wood-framed ceiling rises to a tentlike point 50 feet above Sakakeeny’s head. A series of orange-hued stained-glass windows saturate the 1,000-seat room with rich, coppery light. Birdsong floats through a shuttered opening in the roof.

“This is probably the best-sounding room in the county,” says Sakakeeny, arms out to his sides, speaking oh-so-softly while remaining clearly audible from anywhere in the room.

“When the new concert hall is built at SSU, of course, the philharmonic will have to settle for performing in the second-best-sounding building in the county,” he continues. “But I think we can deal with that.”

Formed just last year, the Cotati Philharmonic is an all-volunteer orchestra that features some of the best professional musicians in the county, playing alongside highly skilled nonprofessional performers who come from far and wide for the opportunity to play full-blown orchestral music with a first-class ensemble.

Sakakeeny, who also donates his services, works full time as a video producer for Agilent Technologies, though his musical pedigree is outstanding. A former music director of the Houston youth ymphonies and ballet, Sakakeeny was also principal conductor of the Campanile Orchestra in Houston and has conducted with West Bay Opera and the Fremont Philharmonic.

When the idea of a Cotati orchestra was first posed in November of 1998, it was Sakakeeny who insisted the philharmonic be run as an all-volunteer organization–and that all concerts be free to the public.

The result of that decision is remarkable.

The first concert, held last July in the park–a program of American music, with works by Aaron Copland, Leonard Bernstein, and George Gershwin–attracted over a thousand people. Subsequent concerts have filled the seats at St. Joseph, where attendees, ranging from homeless people to entire families to curious professional musicians, often marvel at the quality and passion of the philharmonic’s spirited performances.

“I wanted people who would do this for love and not for money,” says Sakakeeny, back on the ground again. “I wanted to see what could happen if we rid ourselves of the concerns of having to meet a budget.”

Supported by a core group of like-minded musicians–including several who perform with other local symphonies–Sakakeeny and his associates drafted a charter that proclaims, “Our mission is to have the beauty of music and the power of community alive and available to everyone.”

“We wanted to start from the ground up,” says Sakakeeny, “to reinvent the symphony orchestra.

“This is a very musical little town, you know,” he continues. “The residents of Cotati strongly identify themselves with music, from the accordion festival to the jazz festival, to the Inn of the Beginning and the whole local history of rock ‘n’ roll.”

In this true community effort, orchestra rehearsals are held at nearby Congregation Ner Shalom. There is much mingling of orchestra and audience following performances. The performers can be easily persuaded to demonstrate their instruments for starstruck children.

“Who knows,” says Sakakeeny, “the future geniuses of classical music may be inspired after their parents bring them to a free concert in downtown Cotati.”

As Marin Symphony conductor Gary Sheldon has pointed out, exposure to the music is the first step toward keeping the art form alive.

“I think people are hungry for what art music has to offer,” Sakakeeny muses, now sitting in the soft light of the sanctuary. “When you come into the presence of a great piece of art, your mind stops and you’re just present to the beauty of the thing. You are in the moment and you feel a sense of respite in the middle of your day, a moment when you can be with something beautiful and be awed and overwhelmed and changed by it.

“That’s what great music does.”

Gary Sheldon Marin Symphony

GARY SHELDON, “between airports” for a few short hours, is walking-talking evidence that symphonic music is alive and well. It’s so alive, in fact, that the mighty maestro can hardly rest for a minute.

After conducting the final concert of the season just last week, Sheldon–musical director of the Marin Symphony for the last 10 years–immediately hopped on a plane to Ohio, where he also runs the popular Lancaster Arts Festival and will be conducting a world premiere for Opera Columbus.

Following that, there are a dozen or so conducting opportunities that will send Sheldon around the world until next fall, when he’ll be back in Marin to conduct Berlioz’s Roman Carnival Overture and Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 4 in F minor for the opening night of the Marin Symphony’s new season.

A few weeks later, he’ll be taking a sabbatical, during which he’ll hit the road again to conduct a number of operas and ballets in Europe, while preparing several of his own compositions for publication.

“Believe me,” he says, “classical music is thriving.”

Even so, Sheldon is at the forefront of musicians who believe that without vigilant effort and ongoing education, classical music could well end up losing some of the steam that is powering his own musical enterprises.

“I’m confident that orchestral music will remain an important part of our society,” he says, “but I believe it can only do that if we can find a way to keep up and keep pace with other types of entertainment–movies and television and computers and all the other forms of music that are out there. To that end, we are constantly reaching out to new audiences, looking for ways to draw first-timers into the concert hall.”

Like other North Bay symphony organizations, the Marin Symphony has put tremendous effort into local educational programs. Among the most notable is Sheldon’s own creation, a series of annual concerts for children based on the popular Carmen Sandiego video game.

Where in the World of Music Is Carmen Sandiego? incorporates history, geography, and classical music in an onstage extravaganza that has become one of the hottest tickets of the year. This season Sheldon also introduced the SEATS program: Symphony Education and Training in the Schools. In the ambitious three-step program, Sheldon and one of the symphony’s soloists visit Marin County schools to make initial presentations, followed by a concert at the school by a string quartet or brass quintet, after which free symphony tickets are offered to all students.

“Exposure is even more important than education,” says Sheldon. “Our principal challenge is to get people into the hall for the first time. After we get them in the seat, the music has a way of taking it from there.”

He’s seen it hundreds of times.

“When I talk to people, of any age, who’ve just come to their first concert,” Sheldon proudly reveals, “the phrase I hear most often is ‘I had no idea what I’ve been missing.’ ”

From the May 18-24, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Picasso at the Lapin Agile

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Picasso at the Lapin Agile.

Mind Games

Einstein meets the artist in ‘Picasso at the Lapin Agile’

By Daedalus Howell

ONE WOULDN’T think that a man who launched his career with ye olde arrow-through-the-head gag could succeed with a stab at legitimate theater–but, oh, does he.

Steve Martin’s cash-cow Picasso at the Lapin Agile (now swabbing the floorboards of Sonoma County Repertory Theatre under the direction of Diane Bailey) has enjoyed rampant success by mixing highbrow notions of science and art with an imaginative premise and heaping spoonfuls of silliness that occasionally foray into theatrical eloquence.

The play (named for an actual cafe whose name translates as “nimble rabbit”) whimsically wonders what would have happened if twentysomethings Albert Einstein and Pablo Picasso had strolled into the same Parisian bistro circa 1904.

Martin’s answer? A whole lotta self-congratulatory backslapping. And why not? Within months of Martin’s imagined meeting, Picasso would birth cubism with Les Demoiselles d’Avignon, and Einstein would publish his special theory of relativity.

Martin’s play portrays the duo as two wild and crazy guys–a pair of impassioned wags whose charm is proportionate to their talent. Interestingly, such depictions fly in the face of a recent spate of biopics suggesting that, at his worst, Picasso was a boorish womanizer and that Einstein was some order of emotional despot. But this ain’t history, bub, it’s theater.

SCRT’s production of Picasso at the Lapin Agile suffers a bit from uneven casting and takes a few missteps. Opening night was marred by jitters and cast members trouncing on each other’s lines. But the whole thing ultimately works, thanks to several hearty performances.

Xavier Lavoipierre does a brawny turn as the cubist-in-the-works Picasso. Clad in the ubiquitous black-and-white striped pullover that costume designers insist dominated Left Bank fashion in the early part of the century, Lavoipierre portrays the self-enraptured artist as both comic and impassioned, though he delivers a handful of his lines inaudibly (throughout, the players wage an often losing battle with the theater’s air conditioning).

Likewise, Eric Thompson’s ruddy-cheeked Einstein is a humorous amalgam of gee-whiz-can-do spirit and narcissistic conceit. His performance is especially satisfying when he lambastes the ineffectual intellects of the other characters.

In one of her many incarnations in this production, Trisha Davis turns in a droll and sexy performance as Suzanne, a Picasso groupie, who grows charmingly world-weary and wise as the show progresses.

Jonathan Graham proves himself the great overlord of bombastic delivery with his boisterous Schmendiman, an inventor whose lasting contribution to the 20th century turns out to be the use of the word cheese to elicit photogenic smiles. Gerald Haston’s wisecracking cafe proprietor, Freddy, is also a delight, as is Peggy Van Patten as his romantically adventuresome wife, Germaine.

Picasso at the Lapin Agile bears the unique distinction of being populist as well as provoking theater, sure to blossom in the capable hands of SCRT as its run continues and the inevitable kinks are worked out.

Picasso at the Lapin Agile plays Thursdays-Saturdays at 8 p.m. (with Sunday performances on May 21 and 28 at 2 p.m.) through June 10 at Sonoma County Repertory Theatre, 104 N. Main St., Sebastopol. $10-$15. 823-0177.

From the May 18-24, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Russian River Redevelopment

The man with the plan: West county Supervisor Mike Reilly supports the recommendations of a $100,000 study urging redevelopment of impoverished Russian River communities, but constituents are unsure about the ultimate cost.

River Watch

Russian River-area residents look the redevelopment gift horse in the mouth

By Stephanie Hiller

TO HEAR IT from Sonoma County Supervisor Mike Reilly, the redevelopment sounds like the best thing to come down the river since the steelhead left: Monte Rio and Guerneville, forested river towns suffering from depressed economies, sharing in an estimated $185 million in new tax money over the next 45 years and transformed into lively little hubs, with nice structures tastefully redesigned and a flourishing tourist industry.

According to Reilly, redevelopment means money for housing renovation, river restoration, a new park by the historic old bridge, a community center, a park and trail in Monte Rio–“amenities that both visitors and residents could enjoy.”

But the community isn’t buying it, or at least 90 percent of the community isn’t, by activist Brenda Adelman’s reckoning. “We care about different things, and they’re not things you can put a price tag on,” she says. “We don’t want to look like the rest of the county. And we don’t necessarily want more tourists here.”

At the first meeting of the Russian River Forum, held May 3 in the supervisors’ chambers to give the public a chance to comment on the redevelopment plan, which was released last November, Guerneville resident Steven Spector, who followed the plan closely, painted a grim picture of tall hotels and parking lots from Rio Nido to the Rio Theater, sort of a biggest little city in the west county–Reno without the gambling halls.

Activist Lenny Weinstein calls this plan “affirmative action for developers.”

Although he believes Reilly is “sincere,” Weinstein suspects political ambitions are the ulterior motive. Others have accused Reilly of being in the pocket of the developers, a remark that makes the embroiled supervisor laugh.

“When all this is over,” he remarks, “we’ll see who is in whose pocket.”

REILLY HAS MADE his name in these parts by doing good for people who need help. The head of West County Community Services for 10 years and a committed environmentalist, he is especially proud of the establishment of the Guerneville Senior Center, which he got built with what he calls “guilt money” from developers.

In his first campaign for the supervisor’s post, four years ago, Reilly stressed his commitment to urban growth boundaries. “I’ve always been a limited-growth person, and I’ve said that we don’t need to be taking major residential growth into the west county.” Then what’s all the fuss about redevelopment?

“Fear of change,” he calls it.

We are sitting at a table on the outdoor patio at Reilly’s favorite hangout, the Northwood Restaurant, located on the golf course outside Guerneville. With its rich green lawns and golfers, it’s the closest thing to a country club the west county has to offer. Alluding to the hectic day he has just spent driving up and down the freeway to cover his beat, Reilly orders a pint of fawn-colored ale.

“Redevelopment will result in little if any residential growth,” he says. “The only new residential development even anticipated in the 30 years of the plan is for affordable housing. Everything else is focused on rehab of existing units.

“If there’s residential growth, it’s not because of redevelopment.”

Business development will occur only within the current “commercial footprint.” And the plan “will have to live within the bounds of the present infrastructure.”

As for the towering hotels, “there’s only one that I know of right now”–that is Kirk Lok’s proposed 150-room edifice, twice the size of his new Sebastopol hotel. One hotel not only can add to the tax base, but also becomes an “umbrella” to support smaller bed and breakfasts. The goal is to bring back the 300 or so rooms that the river area has lost over the past 20 years with the demise of Southside, River Village, Donovan’s, Hexagon House, and the like.

“I don’t think bringing that many [rooms] back will break the back of the river community,” Reilly says.

Maybe not, but many locals continue to feel they are being steamrollered into something that will change the face of their community.

Jim Neeley, spokesperson for Guerneville’s fire district, runs a tax and securities business in Santa Rosa. Only 20 percent of property tax increases from redevelopment will go to the fire district, he says. Instead, “developers can get cheap money. Probably tax relief, too.”

THE DREADED proposed regional sewer plant will have to be built, Neeley believes, to supply needed infrastructure. Like other opponents, he challenges the definition of blight on which the plan is based. “How did Northwood get to be a blighted area? There are half-million-dollar homes there!”

And why won’t the county reveal the addresses of these so-called blighted homes, asks Roni Bourque, 62, who has found “thousands of pages” on redevelopment abuse around the country on the Internet, and “something like a million lawsuits against it.”

She’s worried that her property taxes will be higher than she can afford and she’ll have to move. And “the practice of eminent domain is horrific,” she says, though Reilly has said that the county is not retaining that right over residential properties.

But Bourque is not persuaded by Reilly’s assurances. “This [plan] is money-driven, it has to be.”

Attorney Barbara Barrett, president of the Guerneville Chamber of Commerce, acknowledges that there have been problems with redevelopment, mostly prior to 1993. Since then, she says, laws have gotten stricter. She challenges the assertion that 90 percent of local residents are opposed to the plan. Supporters agree that redevelopment anxiety might be allayed if citizens had greater input in its implementation.

To that end, Reilly promises to recommend the formation of a citizens’ advisory committee that will review all building proposals. The county Board of Supervisors will have the final say, but only on projects that the committee recommends.

“At least the committee will have the ability to say no, which is an important control mechanism,” he chuckles, “maybe the most important control mechanism.”

From the May 18-24, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Usual Suspects

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Pepper-spray lawsuit restored

By Greg Cahill

IN A CLOSELY watched pepper-spray case in which Humboldt County law enforcement officers sprayed and swabbed the potent chemical directly into the eyes of peaceful protesters, the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals on May 4 issued a decision that restores a lawsuit against police.

The lawsuit claims that in three separate incidents in 1997 Eureka police officers and Humboldt County sheriff’s deputies used excessive force to remove nine Headwaters Forest protesters from the Eureka office of Rep. Frank Riggs, R-Windsor, from a logging site, and from Pacific Lumber’s headquarters in the mill town of Scotia.

The forest activists were protesting an agreement between Pacific Lumber Co. and the federal government that allowed the timber company to increase logging of old-growth redwoods in exchange for the government’s $500 million purchase of 7,500 acres of ancient forest.

In the lawsuit, the plaintiffs argued that their civil rights were violated, that they posed no threat or danger, and that they weren’t at risk of flight.

It is believed to be the first time pepper spray was used on peaceful protesters in the United States. The case is expected to set a new precedent for the use of chemical weapons on nonviolent protesters and for deciding immunity for law enforcement officers.

Riggs, an incumbent and rising star in the Republican-dominated U.S. Congress, decided against running for re-election after the incident. He was heavily criticized for characterizing the protesters as “reckless, wanton lawbreakers” who got what they deserved.

The case was appealed by the plaintiffs after jurors deadlocked 4-4 during the first trial. Federal District Judge Vaughan Walker–who had granted immunity to the police–dismissed the lawsuit.

The appellate judges ruled that Walker made a mistake when he granted immunity from damages to Humboldt County Sheriff Dennis Lewis and his deputies. “A reasonable fact-finder could have concluded that using pepper spray bore no reasonable relation to the need for force,” wrote appeals court Judge Harry Pregerson in the decision, adding that the decision to use the pepper spray “had nothing to do with the government’s purported interest in quickly removing the trespassing plaintiffs,” as had been argued.

In their decision, the 9th Circuit judges ruled that the plaintiffs have a right to a jury trial to determine if excessive force was used by authorities.

Eureka attorney Nancy Delany, who represented Humboldt County during the trial, reportedly plans to petition the court for a rehearing before the full panel of 9th Circuit judges.

Cinco de Mayo–No Más!

THINGS JUST KEEP getting curiouser and curiouser in this politically correct world. Usual Suspects received a phone call last week from the parent of a student at Lawrence Cook Middle School in Santa Rosa who complained that an announcement over the public address system last week had stated that any student displaying a Mexican flag or “authentic” Mexican clothing in celebration of Cinco de Mayo would be suspended.

“Our schools are teaching racism and I think it is inappropriate,” the distraught parent said.

Hmmm. A phone call to Principal Victoria Hewitt went unanswered, but a subsequent call netted a curious response from Assistant Principal Debra Cruz, who explained that the meaning of the announcement had been “misconstrued.” According to Cruz, children were allowed to celebrate at “breakout festivities” in classrooms and were permitted to bring items for that purpose. But a strict dress code policy that is “sensitive to gang colors” forbids the display of any flag: Confederate (understandable), Mexican (highly questionable), or American (whuh!).

“We need kids that are in khaki and white, or other colors besides blue or red or yellow or coffee brown [which are used to represent some street gangs], as directed by the Santa Rosa Police Department,” Cruz said.

And you were probably taught that the American flag is a symbol of unity. Did you ever think you’d see the day when Old Glory would be viewed as a threat to the Union?

Usual Suspects loves tips. Call our hotline at 527-1200 or e-mail us at In**@******re.com.

From the May 11-17, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Rural Heritage Initiative

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Wide-open spaces: Rohnert Park City Councilman Jake McKenzie is among those supporting the Rural Heritage Initiative.

Green Days

Battle lines being drawn in bid to save rural heritage

By Jeremy A. Hay

AN INITIATIVE intended to protect agricultural and rural land from development will likely qualify for November’s ballot–over the opposition of some of the Sonoma County’s largest agricultural interests, who say it may limit the future ability of farmers to do business.

The Rural Heritage Initiative, or RHI, needs 16,058 signatures by May 22 to qualify for the ballot. Supporters, hoping to provide themselves a wide margin of safety, plan to collect 22,000 signatures, and by the weekend had collected 20,000.

Should it win in November, the RHI would require voter approval of any proposal to redesignate or increase the density of any land that the county’s 1989 General Plan specifies as agricultural or rural. It would apply only to unincorporated areas, but would affect about 80 percent of the county’s land, or close to 800,00 acres.

Supporters say the initiative supports General Plan policies–backed by voters over the past several years in a series of urban-growth-boundary ballot measures–that call for “city-centered growth.” Without it, they say, the same technology industry-driven growth that has transformed Silicon Valley may well render Sonoma County unrecognizable 20, or even 10, years from now.

The reason for their concern is the region’s booming economy. According to the Association of Bay Area Governments, Sonoma County can expect a 47 percent increase in jobs over the next 20 years, along with 120,000 new residents.

“This is a rather simple idea,” says John Blayney, spokesman for the initiative effort. “What’s the future of this county going to be? Is it going to be Santa Clara County, or is it going to be a county that values its agricultural lands and open space?

“I think a lot of people in Sonoma County would agree that this is perhaps the biggest decision this county’s ever going to face.”

THE RHI IS sponsored by Citizens for Sonoma County’s Future, a coalition of the Sierra Club, Sonoma County Conservation Action, Greenbelt Alliance, and Friends of the Russian River. It is based largely on a similar initiative, Measure J, adopted in 1990 by Napa County voters and considered today a huge success by environmental advocates.

But while Measure J was backed by much of Napa’s agricultural industry, especially local vintners, the RHI may not enjoy the same support.

In what RHI supporters say was an unfortunate oversight, none of Sonoma County’s agricultural organizations were asked to help shape the initiative. Now those organizations, which include the Sonoma County Farm Bureau and the Sonoma County Wineries Association, are opposing the measure.

“The people who are going to be most impacted by it weren’t included or even consulted in the drafting of the ordinance,” says Judy James, executive director of the local Farm Bureau.

James notes that the architect of Measure J, Volker Eisele, was then president of the Napa County Farm Bureau. She says, “We didn’t have the opportunity here to help craft something that’s really good for agriculture.”

A rueful Peter Ashcroft, chair of the RHI steering committee, says James’ complaints are on target. “Some people were consulted,” he says, “but it’s clear in retrospect–and hindsight is always 20/20–that we should have done a better job of reaching out to the agricultural community.”

Ashcroft, who is chairman of the Sonoma County Sierra Club chapter, declines to say who was consulted, only that they were from local farming industries.

Jaimie Douglas, executive director of the Sonoma County Wineries Association, echoes James’ anger at being excluded from the initiative process. She suggests the slight may stem from “the grape-growing and wine-producing industries being kind of singled out as not being environmentally friendly, which is absolutely not the case.”

But Lynn Hamilton, former Sebastopol mayor and now director of the Town Hall Coalition, a recently formed citizens’ group that has crossed swords with grape growers over vineyard expansion, argues that the wine industry should welcome the initiative.

“This is really a chance to protect our ag lands for ag use, which I think the wine [producers] and grape-growing people should be wholeheartedly enthusiastic about,” Hamilton says.

Its detractors also criticize the initiative for being, as Judy James puts it, “so general and vague that it’s going to cause unintended consequences for agriculture.”

Among examples of those consequences James cites the possibility that a dairy farmer deciding to also produce cheese, or perhaps ice cream, might be prevented from obtaining the required use permit; or a farm family with producing vineyards might also, under the ordinance, be unable to obtain the required permits.

“There are a lot of gray areas in the initiative, such as the question of getting use permits for ag projects in the future,” James says, “and we really need them to be in black and white.”

Blayney says such concerns are unwarranted, because use permits are governed by specific zoning ordinances, not the General Plan. The zoning ordinances are more detailed land-use rules that are separate from the General Plan land designations and policies, although they are supposed to implement those policies.

“The only thing the ordinance would regulate is a change in the designation of land the General Plan designates as an agricultural or rural resource, or an increase in density,” Blayney emphasizes. “It does nothing to change the existing zoning ordinance.”

LAST FRIDAY, in a letter to Ashcroft, the Farm Bureau and the Wineries Association, joined by the Sonoma County Farmlands Group and United Wine Growers, urged a halt to the initiative effort.

The letter calls the RHI “flawed in substance and process” and says: “Only by withdrawing the initiative will it be possible for the agricultural community to join with your group . . . in pursuit of consensus regarding long-term agricultural preservation policies.”

Ashcroft says the steering committee discussed the possibility of delaying the initiative process, but concluded it “would be breaking faith” with the 20,000 people who signed petitions in support of the RHI, as well as with “the hundreds of” signature gatherers.

Blayney says he hopes to continue to meet with representatives of the agricultural community to allay their fears. “We don’t necessarily expect everybody to support [the initiative],” he says. “We just don’t want people to misunderstand it.”

From the May 11-17, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Salsa

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Salsa Savvy

Finding new ways to assess the sauce

By Marina Wolf

WELL, IT’S OFFICIAL: Salsa has become an all-American institution. In 1996 it surpassed ketchup as the most-used condiment in the United States, and now it is turning up in that most patriotic of pastimes: the food contest.

Some cynics might consider this just another example of America’s appropriation approach to food: take it in and make it ours. But I see it as a triumph, a major leap forward in our country’s consciousness about its own ethnic, cultural, and culinary diversity.

We have moved beyond hot dogs and apple pie–not a great diet to begin with–into an open acknowledgment of enchiladas, burritos, and spicy sauces as important additions to the American table.

A healthy debate on the merits of various salsas is appealing (though actually tasting 15 salsas in a row is, to me, as enjoyable as licking a scrubbing pad for an hour). Unfortunately, the consensus of most American eaters seems to have settled on one of two manifestations of the salsa ideal: (1) diced underripe vegetables stewing in a swamp of citric acid, or (2) boiled and bottled tomato pulp, whose most authentically ethnic quality is the artwork on the label.

The reality of salsa is much more interesting. Salsa in Spanish simply means sauce, and can apply to any number of sauces, some of which have been around as long as chile peppers have been cultivated: thousands of years. Salsas may be stewed, raw, roasted, grilled. Chile peppers are the defining ingredient, but the type and amount vary wildly. Tomatoes are usually indicated in traditional Central and South American salsas, but in the wake of fusion cooking and the increased awareness of regional specialties, even this boundary has been blown wide open, making room for such ingredients as corn, tomatillos, mangoes, apples, strawberries, and even sweet potato.

In the face of such anarchy, salsa competitions are a natural response, a community’s attempt to impose meaning and order on an unruly universe of possibilities. But the pressure is on to assess the entries according to the old rules, the Pace-based paradigm. Too often we elevate one or two of the simpler characteristics to the sole deciding factor and downplay others that are as important, or at least as interesting, to the avid salsa consumer. Tomato and nontomato is a cliché, as is the line between commercial and home-cooked (who exactly is being served by that distinction?). But what about chunky vs. smooth? Such vastly different approaches require almost completely different strategies in order to assess texture and flavor. (Peanut-butter aficionados will understand what is at stake here.)

What of the many gradations of heat? To keep “chile bullies” from dominating the field, we could just as easily divide and judge entries according to scientifically measured Scoville heat ratings.

Or–stay with me here–we could rethink the whole angle of competition altogether, make it less ferocious and more functional. The question would not be which salsa is best, but how well a given salsa works for the purpose for which it was mixed. Is it a dip, a side dish, a last-minute condiment, or an essential ingredient in a casserole? Is it served at parties or just at family dinners?

These are essential questions in determining the feasibility of a salsa.

FORM SHOULD follow function, in salsa as in everything. Smooth salsa is tricky in social situations: the liquid responds to gravity and the incline of a chip much more dramatically than does its chunky-cut counterpart. Considering the distance between the lips and the dip bowl, and the peculiar attraction between salsa and clothing (especially white silk T-shirts), party salsa should be chosen and created carefully.

A good party salsa has distinct flavors and crisp textures, whatever the ingredients, and enough substance to rest sturdily on a chip. In a casserole, however, this chunky salsa only confuses things. There’s too much going on, too much separateness and disunity. A smooth salsa, on the other hand, is just the thing to provide a common backdrop for the dish’s constituent parts.

The “topper” category would be the most challenging, if only because of the size of the pool. Every new restaurant has at least one kind of salsa on the menu, trailing artistically on or around a piece of protein. The field is wide open for contenders: smooth and chunky, cooked and fresco, fruit and vegetable. The salsa could be simply chile peppers moistened with tomato juice, or it could be the reverse, a tomato salad with a hint of heat.

But the judging would be simple: put a spoonful of each entry over a tiny piece of fish. Does it overpower or enhance? Does it clash or complement? Is it super or just superfluous?

I understand that this might be a difficult proposal for Americans to swallow. The whole thing smacks of socialism, of a touchy-feely “we’re all OK” mentality that is anathema to the fine American tradition of no-holds-barred competition.

But I would urge organizers of salsa contests to take the plunge, even if it does mean encouraging the sweet-potato crowd. The soul of salsa is in its diversity. And salsa lovers everywhere deserve a bite of the whole enchilada.

From the May 11-17, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Rene di Rosa

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California dreaming: A self-described “artcoholic,” Rene di Rosa has assembled a collection of California art that is as eclectic as it is eccentric–and it’s all on view to the public at the di Rosa Preserve in Napa.

Artful Refuge

California art finds a home at the di Rosa Preserve

By Richard von Busack

RENE DI ROSA is a tall, elderly man in farmer’s clothes, with the kind of nose you see in portraits of the Medicis. None of us, I think, recognized him as the man who ran the museum until he spoke up abruptly.

When addressed by a stranger, most urbanites look at their shoes. We studied ours as di Rosa started talking to the cluster of about two dozen visitors in the Gatehouse Gallery, on the grounds of the private art preserve that bears his name.

“I hope you’ll enjoy what you see,” di Rosa said. “This shuttle here”–he gestured out to the driveway where a jitney was waiting–“it takes you up to where I used to live.”

The Rene and Veronica di Rosa Preserve–located in the hills of Napa County–has to be the only world-class art collection whose proprietor greets you before you tour it.

From the gatehouse, it’s a short ride up the hill along Winery Lake to the three-story house and main gallery, which lies within sight of the busy Carneros Highway, not far from the Napa/Sonoma county line.

Nothing in the di Rosa preserve stops traffic. The gatehouse doesn’t look much different than the new prefab aluminum or steel barn buildings in surrounding vineyards. What most tourists would have eyes for is the pretentious jumbo replica of a French chateau that stands across the road.

But when you get away from the highway, you can see that di Rosa’s preserve is a very fine piece of property. In the 35-acre lake stand some of Veronica di Rosa’s steel sculptures of multicolored cows.

Veronica, an artist and writer, died in Normandy in 1991, falling from a path where she was picking wildflowers. The loss of his wife changed Rene di Rosa, it’s said. Once he was the kind of extrovert who’d wear a gorilla suit to public meetings to protest Sonoma County real-estate development. Now his energies are turned toward completing what could be described as a countercultural Hearst Castle.

It was a leaky barn when di Rosa found it; after much remodeling, it’s a handsome but not ostentatious turreted country manor overlooking the one-story steel gallery where most of the di Rosa’s art is displayed.

In addition to being a major gallery, the di Rosa Preserve is also a bird refuge. Waterfowl float on the lake. Padding in between the main gallery buildings are the peacocks, their fine feathers shining from the recent rains. I stopped counting after 20; later I learned there was 60, including a few calicos. “Mulattos,” di Rosa told me later. “There was a solid white one I had once, but they’ve interbred.”

IS THERE SUCH a thing as Northern California art–something in the people, as in the landscape, that makes Northern California special? Questions like these are best mulled over at the di Rosa Preserve. This private museum spells out its function in big chiseled stone letters: “divinely regional, superbly parochial, wondrously provincial . . . an absolutely native glory.”

Here in a group of buildings are some of the di Rosa Foundation’s 1,700 pieces of art–paintings, sculptures, and photographs by 600 artists, almost all from Northern California. The museum has been open for only the last three years, and the preserve is still little known because of rationed access caused by a traffic-retarding deal struck with the county.

With a collection this size, it’s hard to sum up the highlights. As collectors, Rene and Veronica had good instincts and an immunity to shock.

What stands out most are two works by the animistic yet feminist artist Joan Brown. Her 1975 Woman Preparing for a Shower sums up the tension of a placid, pretty woman on the edge of something otherworldly; it’s a bathing-woman painting without tease. Next to her, a strange dog stands on his hind legs, offering her a towel in his teeth.

Enrique Chagoya’s furious charcoal drawing, When Paradise Arrived, is an indelible satire of Southern California nativism. The colossal hand of Mickey Mouse prepares to flick aside a small dark-skinned girl, as if she were a sowbug.

Roy De Forest’s sculpture in the main gallery is both charming and disturbing, a prehensile-eyed, asymmetric critter sprouting wooden spindles, brushes, and a series of counterweights and pendulums to stay on its feet.

David Best’s art cars, a favorite, are studded with familiar objects, including poker chips, Stratego tiles, statuary, and spent ammo from a machine-gun belt. One hood ornament is a life-sized head of a rhinoceros. “Just cars with stuff on them. They ask nothing from the observer,” Best notes, as quoted in a recently published profile of the di Rosa Preserve, edited by di Rosa himself: Local Color: The Di Rosa Collection of Contemporary California Art (Chronicle Books; $35).

It’s a trick of the di Rosa gallery not to name the artists with the customary plaques. Instead, small notebooks in every chamber of the preserve have the names, titles, and dates.

This system could be seen to take away the identities of the artists, but di Rosa says he avoided title cards because it irked him to see visitors at a museum paying more attention to the text than the image. And the lack of captioning is meant to fit in with the origins of the di Rosa Preserve as a private home expanded to museum size.

The Yankee streak is still visible in the Boston-born di Rosa, in the way he laconically pronounces the name “San Fran-cis-co” when talking about the decline of the art scene there.

He was born in 1919, the son of the Italian consul and a Philadelphia woman. He went to Paris to write; couldn’t finish his novel; then came to San Francisco to work for the San Francisco Chronicle. During the 1950s he lived in North Beach, but he didn’t feel kinship with the beat scene.

“I’d come here from the Left Bank,” Di Rosa said, “not the left bank of the Sacramento River–and there didn’t seem to be a center of rebellion in San Francisco, or any artistic center. It wasn’t established. A new community hadn’t established itself yet.”

Years ahead of the back-to-the-land movement, di Rosa decided to become a farmer. He headed for the higher ground near the Sonoma/Napa county border on Carneros Road. In 1960, grapes hadn’t been grown in the area for almost 30 years. What phylloxera hadn’t ruined, Prohibition did. Planting cool-weather pinot noir and chardonnay grapes, di Rosa became a successful grape grower. In 1986 he sold 250 acres to Seagram’s and got out of the grape business.

Since then, di Rosa has been fully involved in the collecting of art. The self-described “artcoholic” has purchased about three dozen pieces in the last few months. A favorite prowling ground is student shows. He told me about a pair of a mixed-media pieces he acquired from Sonoma State University art shows.

“I like finding an emerging artist and acquiring their piece,” he explains. “It’s also art I can afford. Established artists are a little beyond my wallet.”

STUDYING agriculture at UC Davis in the 1960s, di Rosa became acquainted with some of the artists working in the art department there, including William Wiley and Roy de Forest. The Funk School, it’s been called. It’s very accessible art–playful, colorful, and insouciant.

Abstract expressionism has a seriousness of intent similar to the scholarly saxophone jazz of the era. Funk art is more like jug band music, with kazoos and banjos. The di Rosa collection has that homey streak; much of the collection is on the walls of the main house’s living rooms and bedrooms.

In the large gallery of the di Rosa Preserve is a bust by Terry Allen. Shoe is a bronze of a businessman with an upside-down shoe in his mouth. The footwear has been jammed in so forcefully that the ends of the man’s tie still swing in the breeze.

Allen is also a songwriter, the composer of an anti-New York art scene anthem called “Truckload of Art,” recently recorded by the Austin Lounge Lizards. In it, a truck of overvalued, blue-chip art from Manhattan crashes and burns: “A truckload of art is burnin’ near the highway/ And it’s raging far out of control./ What the critics have cheered are now shattered and queered/ and their noble reviews have been stewed on the road.”

If anything could sum up the di Rosa Preserve’s collection, it’s that song. Di Rosa’s unwillingness to act through curators and experts, along with his decision to go local and go for what he likes, is an example of the countercultural, eclectic, and unwilling-to-behave spirit that I’ve always honored and revered in Northern California.

This spirit of liberty and self-expression sometimes seems to be going the way of affordable housing. Still, a trip to the di Rosa Preserve revives those feelings of leisure and contemplation that ordinary life smothers.

You’ll find the Rene and Veronica di Rosa Foundation at 5200 Carneros Hwy. (Hwy.121), Napa. Tours are by reservation only. Call 226-5991.

From the May 11-17, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

‘Henry IV’

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Henry IV, Part 1.

Regarding Henry

Thoughtful ‘Henry IV’ makes history

By Daedalus Howell

A LONG TIME AGO, on a stage far, far away–ages before Star Wars and long before the upcoming troika of Lord of the Rings flicks–William Shakespeare was busy inventing the epic trilogy with his trio of history plays: Henry IV, Part 1; Henry IV, Part 2; and Henry V.

Marking the conclusion of the Cinnabar Theater’s Falstaff Festival, the Quicksilver II Theater Company presents Henry IV, Part 1, arguably the most successful play of Shakespeare’s tragical-history tour.

Directed by Deborah Eubanks, this production of the first installment of the Henry plays (which has been enhanced by adding a few lines from the other two plays in the series) is more concerned with the reformation of wayward Prince Hal (Jereme Anglin) than with his royal father, Henry Bolingbroke (soberly played by Lucas McClure), for whom the play is named.

Hal is a waggish wastrel who cavorts with thieves, drunks, and whores before “going straight” to quell the attempt of the young Hotspur (Rick Codding) to depose the king.

Anglin’s rebel-with-a-crown is an adept portrayal of the “nimble-footed madcap Prince of Wales” drawn so absorbingly in Shakespeare’s text. The actor employs a decidedly subtle approach as his character incrementally inches toward salvation. Instead of an aboutface from his once ne’er-do-well self, Hal evolves organically through a series of well-paced revelations that add credibility to his character arc and testify to Anglin’s stage-borne skill.

Al Liner’s fustian Falstaff has all the chutzpah of a New York City cabbie and a more innate understanding of the human heart than a cardiologist. Both riotous and disquieting, his rendition of Plump Jack’s famed “What is honor?” monologue marks an exquisite moment for local stages as he deftly treads the tightrope from humility to humanity before passing out drunk in the arms of a wench.

Rick Codding’s Hotspur–despite the “space-villain” duds designer Maureen O’Sullivan garbs him in–is a consummate depiction of a young man racked by his own ambition. Slicker than a sociopath with a charm-school certificate, Codding’s Hotspur is a note-perfect creep. This is one of the production’s breakout performances.

In a scene in Hotspur’s love lab, April Daniels shines as his wife, Lady Percy. She expertly traipses through a complicated array of emotions within the span of one finely crafted scene that is as much a credit to Eubanks’ direction as the players’ native panache. And Sean Casey’s comic, Pythonesque pepper-pot squawking as Westmoreland is well matched with Sam Misner’s ruddy-nosed rapscallion Bardolf.

Unfortunately, the swordplay between the various players that comes at the climax of the second act is a bit of a misstep, often looking like what would result if the Three Stooges did the Ginsu Knives commercials. And though this production is certainly more of a “sleeper” than a yawner, the fact remains that it sometimes seems like more of an endurance test (for both the actors and the audience) than entertainment as it creeps around the three-hour mark despite the obvious pains Eubanks took to prune the behemoth into a tidy evening of theater.

In the end, however, the production is more pensive than ponderous and, like the profligate prince’s line “redeeming time when men think least I will,” it also redeems itself with the sheer talent of its cast.

Quicksilver II Theater Company presents Henry IV, Part 1, through May 27, on Fridays and Saturdays at 8, and Sunday, May 14, at 3 p.m. at the Cinnabar Theater, 3333 Petaluma Blvd. N., Petaluma. $9 to $14. 763-8920.

From the May 11-17, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

‘Return to Me’

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Heart of the matter: Minnie Driver and David Duchovny star in Return to Me.

Crying Game

Author Jane Smiley on horse hearts, weeping at movies, and ‘Return to Me’

By David Templeton

Writer David Templeton takes interesting people to interesting movies in his ongoing quest for the ultimate post-film conversation. This is not a review; rather, it’s a freewheeling, tangential discussion of art, alternative ideas, and popular culture.

“GEE,” PURRS author Jane Smiley, reaching for the hand of her boyfriend, Jack. “I’m kind of sorry we can’t run right home, right now.”

The three of us–Smiley and Jack . . . and I (now feeling a bit like a fifth wheel)–are sitting in a darkened San Francisco theater, watching the end credits of the sentimental romance Return to Me. Still a bit misty-eyed from the film, Smiley wraps her arms around her similarly teary paramour, resting her head affectionately on his shoulder.

“Romantic movies,” Smiley happily confesses, “always put us in the mood to cuddle. We usually run right home and go to bed.”

Jane Smiley, the 1992 Pulitzer Prize-winning author of A Thousand Acres, has a habit of saying things like that.

In conversation, she is a constant wellspring of honest, unprotected proclamations so candid and personal they take you by surprise, offered in a confident, easygoing manner that somehow makes you feel all warm and cozy. The Monterey-based writer is, in fact, as disarmingly authentic and truthful in person as she is in the pages of her rich, insight-laden novels.

Smiley is currently in the midst of a book-signing tour for her latest novel, the delightful, fast-paced racetrack epic Horse Heaven (Knopf; $22), about the inhabitants–human, canine, and equine–of a Northern California horse ranch. Eagerly, the author has taken the afternoon off to go to the movies.

Which brings us to Return to Me, a romantic comedy in which a grieving widower (David Duchovny of X-Files fame) finds himself strangely drawn to an eccentric young woman (Minnie Driver) who is still recovering from a heart transplant. The catch is that, unknown to both of them, Driver’s heart donor was Duchovny’s first wife, a brilliant scientist who died in a tragic car accident.

“I liked it. The romantic comedy is an art form that really interests me,” Smiley says as we depart the theater and head for a sunny bench at a nearby park. “I think romantic comedies are very, very hard to make work, maybe the hardest type of movie there is.

“The problem is, the two stars are obviously destined for each other–the two biggest names in the movie are always destined for each other–so the audience knows from the beginning what’s going happen. A romantic comedy is all about keeping the stars apart for two hours until you can get the biggest jolt at the end when they finally come together.

“So in critiquing this kind of story,” she continues, “you have to ask, ‘Are they realistically kept apart?’ In this case, they were mostly realistically kept apart, but they lost me when they both discover the truth, that she’s got his dead wife’s heart, and they’re so overwhelmed that they run away. What was that about? Personally, I would have said, ‘Wow! Terrific! You’ve got her heart? That’s so cool!’ I would have instantly felt that it was a wonderful thing.

“But then, of course, you’d be messing with the very heart of the Hollywood romantic-comedy format.”

AND SPEAKING of hearts: Smiley–an avid equestrian and racing aficionado who now owns several racehorses–takes the opportunity to offer this fascinating factoid.

“The average horse heart weighs seven pounds,” she reveals. “That’s about seven times larger than a human heart. Horses, by nature, have big hearts. And the great racehorses, like Secretariat and Eclipse, have hearts that are even larger. Eclipse’s heart was 16 pounds. Secretariat’s heart was 22 pounds.

“The theory is that these hearts simply are much bigger pumps of oxygenated blood. Secretariat never showed fatigue. The longer he ran, the faster he went, and the better he liked it.

“When we say that a human has heart,” she continues, “we mean that they are kind or generous people. But when you say a horse has heart, it might be a nasty, unpleasant horse, but it’s a determined horse, a horse that wants to run and won’t stop trying.”

Those qualities, of course, are also prized in humans, “though they tend to be called stamina and pluck,” says Smiley. “My basic theory about the cinema is that movies are all about male endurance and female pluck. The most attractive men are the ones that seem to be suffering, but they endure it stoically–and David Duchovny does suffer nicely in Return to Me–while the most attractive women in movies are the ones that have a lot of, you know, oomph. Women who are down but not out.”

Like Minnie Driver?

“Well, Minnie Driver was a little bit plucky,” Smiley allows, “but she didn’t have quite enough pluck to make a truly classic Hollywood female.”

She was pluckier in Good Will Hunting. Or Grosse Pointe Blank.

“I loved Grosse Pointe Blank,” Smiley admits. “I love the scene where the hit man, John Cusack, was talking to his secretary on the phone while he was calmly, coolly making a hit. It’s one of the sexiest scenes ever put on film. That scene always turns me on.

“He was so totally cool, totally expert. Of course, he wouldn’t have had to be killing someone for that scene to be sexy. He could have been hammering a nail. It still would have been sexy.”

But did it make Smiley cry?

“Sure,” she laughs. “But I cry all the time. Crying is an important part of being alive. I think a good day is when you cry, when you laugh, when you eat something good, when you ride a horse, when you write something, and when you make love.

“That’s the recipe for a perfect day,” says Smiley. “You have to cry at least once or it’s not truly perfect.”

From the May 11-17, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Miles Davis/John Coltrane

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Miles to Go

New Miles Davis/John Coltrane box set showcases two jazz giants

By Greg Cahill

IT’S KIND OF A CURSE, this addictive urge to own every available recorded track of a favorite artist. So the newly released Miles Davis & John Coltrane: The Complete Columbia Recordings (Columbia/Legacy) is a six-CD, 58-track shot in the arm that will set you back $100 and deliver hours of stimulating sounds by a super sextet that remains legendary in the annals of modern music.

The whole package–replete with a 116-page booklet, featuring dozens of previously unpublished photos, a session analysis, and reflective essays–is organized in a hardbound portfolio and encased in a heavy red steel box.

Caveat emptor: Don’t be lured by that bright-yellow sticker that promises 18 previously unreleased tracks, unless you really need a fix that includes five versions of “Two Bass Hit,” four versions of “Ah-Leu-Cha” (including three stacked together on a single disc), and four consecutive renderings of “Sweet Sue, Just You.”

That said, this collection of spectacular tracks–recorded between October 1955 and March 1961–represents one of the most fertile periods in the long and illustrious career of trumpeter Miles Davis. And it’s an eloquent union of two remarkable jazz giants. Already written off by music critics as a relic of the bop era, Davis reinvented himself and jazz after assembling this sterling rotating lineup that at various times featured tenor saxophonists John Coltrane and Hank Mobley; alto saxophonist Cannonball Adderly; pianists Bill Evans, Red Garland, and Wynton Kelley; bassist Paul Chambers; and drummers Philly Joe Jones and Jimmy Cobb.

The recordings–illumined for eternity with a cool blue flame fed by the creative interplay of bold musical ideas–were featured on such LPs as ‘Round about Midnight, Milestones, and Someday My Prince Will Come. But the real gem is 1959’s Kind of Blue, the modal masterpiece that changed jazz forever and remains an essential recording. From the undeniable cool of “Freddie Freeloader” to the pastoral calm of “Blue in Green,” it’s easy to see why this material established the Davis/Coltrane unit as the premier jazz group of the decade.

In that regard, the completist approach is welcome. But unfortunately, there is little here to shed new light on those landmark sessions. For instance, the alternate take of “Flamenco Sketches”–which resonates with pianist Bill Evans’ meditative 1958 signature song “Peace Piece”–is available on the expanded edition of Kind of Blue, released three years ago.

For the casual fan, the bulk of this material can be purchased at less than half the total cost of this ambitious set. For cursed completists, well, you’ve just gotta own it, dontcha?

From the May 11-17, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

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