Robert McChesney

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American original: Petaluma painter Robert McChesney wields an offbeat brush.

Enduring Visions

Local retrospective shows off Robert McChesney’s abstract paintings

By Daedalus Howell

AS THEY SAY, “Home is where the art is.” For over 50 years now, home for artist Robert McChesney has been atop Petaluma’s Sonoma Mountain, but seldom has his work been exhibited in Sonoma County. Instead, the abstract expressionist’s paintings and assemblages have met art lovers abroad or in such museums as New York’s Whitney, the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, and the Art Institute of Chicago.

Starting Friday, July 14, however, “Robert McChesney: An American Painter” goes on exhibit at Santa Rosa’s Kress Building. The six-week retrospective features nearly 70 paintings and represents half a century of the 88-year-old artist’s oeuvre. Interestingly, the retrospective is only the fourth showing of McChesney’s work in Santa Rosa and the first since 1988.

“The works I’ll be exhibiting are all abstract paintings. My experience is that throughout life an artist is influenced by everything. He has the ability to digest this and get that out onto his picture plane,” says McChesney, one of the progenitors of Bay Area abstract expressionism, which flourished in the 1950s and continues to inform artists today.

“It is my whole experience that I’m working to produce,” he continues. “Of course. you can never reproduce all your experiences–that’s ridiculous– but you see things in these patterns, abstractly, that imply culture of all kinds, and that’s how you do it.”

McChesney’s recent paintings are strewn with evocative natural forms composed in a distinctly Southwestern palette. They appear as organic as they do organized and have been variously described as suggesting micro-slides, intergalactic phenomena, or aerial views of crop circles.

The more discerning viewer, however, sees the work as McChesney does: “There’s nature in them, there’s architecture in them, there’s cities in them–but they’re not that in the objective sense.”

The usual adjectives used to describe active octogenarians don’t apply to McChesney. He isn’t spry, for example–he’s goddamn robust. His conversation is peppered with such anachronistic hipsterisms as “You dig?” and his eyes actively search his surroundings.

Often garbed like some order of beatnik cowboy in a turtleneck, cowboy hat, and full silver beard under which lurks a bolo tie, McChesney is more than an “American painter.” He’s an American original–and it shows in his art.

Among the many occurrences that set McChesney on the path of abstract expressionism was one that took place in the navy. As a merchant marine in World War II, he bided his time between shifts, painting on an easel improvised from his bunk and some plywood and watching the water.

“We’d be tied up outside before going into port and they always had this platform down below, for landing,” he explains. “I’d go down there, and they’d have this light on, and the shapes and forms I saw in the water were just absolutely amazing.

“I was doubtlessly influenced by that,” he adds. “I didn’t copy that, but I used the forms. This went on until the war was over, and by that time I had hundreds of paintings.”

McChesney relishes the opportunity to showcase his work locally. As his wife, artist and author Mary Fuller McChesney, points out, “There really weren’t many opportunities for artists to show work in Sonoma County until recently. Robert has had more retrospectives in Fresno, of all places, than in his own home county.”

THE RETROSPECTIVE groups McChesney’s work chronologically, arranging pieces in their original series collections, from 1946 to 2000. That arrangement helps underline the enduring power of the artist’s work, according to Sandy Thompson, who is curating the show on behalf of City Vision’s Arts and Culture Committee, which previously presented the Christo exhibit at the Kress Building.

“His work is incredibly strong,” says Thompson. “He is one of the original, and probably one of the last, Bay Area expressionist painters. . . . Robert sees in a very unique way, and I think he’s able to translate that consistently and dynamically. You look at his work over 55 years and it stays strong. He has stuck to his vision–he gave no quarter and he gave no compromise.”

McChesney’s creative process is deceptively simple. He lays the work-in-progress flat on the floor and applies various paints with a squeeze-bottle. He then distributes found objects upon the plane that work simultaneously as stencils and antennae for the fortuitous bedlam he later molds into art.

“When this whole thing sets up, I’ve got what I call a ‘chaotic condition,’ and it’s my job to get rid of the chaos and build an abstract composition,” says McChesney. “It’s amazing–the different shapes and forms and how they colorize together and produce this chaos. After it sets up, that’s where the work begins.”

“Robert McChesney: An American Painter” opens Friday, July 14, with a reception from 5:30 to 7:30 p.m. Regular visiting hours are Fridays-Sundays, noon to 4 p.m. The exhibit continues through Aug. 26 at the Kress Building, 613 Fourth St., Santa Rosa. Admission is free. For details, call 578-7259.

From the July 6-12, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Labor and Social Action Summer School

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FOR THE THIRD straight year, Sonoma State University plays host to the Labor and Social Action School. The event, which is sponsored primarily by the North Bay Central Labor Council, is an ambitious effort to “educate for action” on labor, environmental, and civil rights issues.

The weekend starts with a bang on Friday, July 7, when political maverick and author Jim Hightower speaks on “The Struggle for Economic Justice in the Era of Globalization.” Hightower speak at 7:30 p.m. at the Person Theatre. Tickets are $7 to $10 on a sliding scale and are available at Copperfield’s Books in Sebastopol and downtown Santa Rosa and at North Light Cafe and Books in Cotati.

The summer school continues on Saturday, July 8, with a series of workshops on a variety of topics, such as growth, working women, labor history, sweatshops, and income inequality.

The workshops begin at 9 a.m. at Stevenson Hall. SSU, 1801 E. Cotati Ave., Rohnert Park.Admission to the whole conference is $50. For details, call 545-7349, ext. 22.

From the June 29-July 5, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

‘Sylvia’

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Heavy petting: Vanessa Severo and Gregory Joseph Allen star in Sylvia.

Doggone Good

‘Sylvia’ offers fetching tale of puppy love

By Daedalus Howell

SANTA ROSA’S Summer Repertory Theatre invites local theatergoers to allay the dog days of summer with their own dog show, A. R. Gurney’s canine comedy Sylvia (marvelously directed by Irwin Appel). About a love triangle between a woman, her man, and his dog, this supremely satisfying production comes in on a Gurney but certainly doesn’t leave on a stretcher.

In it, empty-nesters and suburban refugees Greg (Gregory Joseph Allen) and Kate (Carrie Baker) have moved to Manhattan to embrace the latter halves of their lives. Greg’s career and emotional well-being flounder in the new environment, however, as his wife’s career teaching Shakespeare to inner-city kids flourishes. Yearning for emotional connection with the bustling world surrounding him, Greg impulsively adopts a stray mutt named Sylvia (Vanessa Severo).

Sylvia seems to converses with Greg as though she were human, but soon becomes a “bone of contention” between him and his wife. Threats of the pound loom as the dog, described as a “male menopausal moment,” effectively becomes “another woman.”

Vanessa Severo is the kind of actress with whom audiences (and theater reviewers) instantly fall in love. Excruciatingly beautiful (or should that be fetching?), the winsome actress bounds onstage as the breathless and blathering Labrador-poodle mix Sylvia, and the house nearly caves in from laughter and adoration.

Severo’s performance is vivacious, kinetic, and poignant–her parody of puppydom is as effortless as her wit is surefire. Beyond the exquisite emotional shading Severo brings to her canine character, the actress proves herself an adept physical comedienne. After being groomed with bows and a boa, she prances about the living-room set with her ass and nose so far in the air they’re practically airborne.

Greg Allen, as a commodities trader gone astray, provides the perfect ballast for Sylvia’s spitfire antics. More than delivering a lovable lug hung up on his pooch, Allen develops Greg’s arc such that it both sells the absurdity of his constant lovelorn doggerel (“Ahh, who’s a good girl?”) and draws a memorable portrait of a man on a fox hunt for happiness.

Throughout, Carrie Baker’s Kate, an upright, cosmopolitan schoolmarm with a penchant for quoting the bard , serves as the play’s voice of reason. Baker brings a cool sophistication and attractive mien to her exasperated character, who’s forced to choose between obliging her husband’s bestial obsessions and going solo.

Heidi Tokheim proves herself the chameleon of this stellar cast by appearing as different sounding boards for Greg and Kate. Among them are Tom, a Central Park regular whose dog Bowser is the object of Sylvia’s desire prior to her getting spayed and Leslie, the sexually ambiguous marriage counselor who explores gender issues in his/her spare time.

No bones about it: SRT’s Sylvia is more than a shaggy-dog story. It’s inspired, moving theater. Not to sound dogmatic, but audiences should sit and watch this show or have their noses rubbed in regret.

Sylvia plays through Aug. 5, Tuesdays-Saturdays at 8 p.m. and Sundays at 7:30 p.m.; plus some matinee shows (call for details). SRJC, Newman Auditorium, 1501 Mendocino Ave., Santa Rosa. Tickets are $12 for adults and $10 for seniors and youth. 527-4343.

From the June 29-July 5, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Community Cookbooks

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Reading Recipes

The historical significance of community cookbooks

By Marina Wolf

COMMUNITY cookbooks. Most of our mothers had at least one of these rickety assemblages of “tried-and-true recipes,” collected by a committee, plainly published, and sold by the stack to raise funds for some unspecified charitable project. My mom has one mimeographed volume dating from 1956, whose cover is charred in a spiral pattern that bears a suspicious resemblance to an electric burner. But in spite of this fascinating mark, I never wondered about that book, or even about what my mom was cooking while she was burning the cover off. Now I’m rethinking my obliviousness, thanks to some scholars who are mulling over such seemingly mundane material.

Recipes for Reading: Community Cookbooks, Stories, Histories (University of Massachusetts Press, 1997) takes a good hard look at the questions a curious reader may find in community cookbooks. Why do some contributors to these cookbooks use their husbands’ names and others use their own names? Why do some cookbooks not mention names at all? Why is one dish included five times? Why are instructions usually so terse? Why, for example, are there nonkosher recipes in a Jewish women’s auxiliary cookbook?

Underneath these seemingly trivial questions, however, are real issues: What does a collection of recipes reflect about its community’s group dynamics and aspirations? What is the effect of ethnicity or economic status on the language and content of the cookbook? How does the process of creating these cookbooks dovetail with the creation of women’s communities?

In answer, the scholars set out a veritable feast of possibilities in the field of women’s culture. One Recipes for Reading essay examines the syntax and semantics of pie recipes to provide a linguistic background for the communities that created and used them. Another deconstructs Like Water for Chocolate as a complex blend of community and self in the kitchens of Mexico.

In her own contribution, editor Anne Bower identifies narrative elements of community cookbooks that combine to tell stories of history, moral triumph, or the integration and assimilation of a smaller community into the larger society.

THE ASSIMILATION plot line was common in community cookbooks before World War II, according to Bower. Until then, books produced by women from various ethnic backgrounds called upon Mom, God, the flag, and eight recipes for apple pie. It was a natural phase of the immigrant experience, says Bower: “These women were asserting themselves as middle-class Americans. They wanted to show that they ate whatever was current and that they lived the good life.”

Later, as wars and international politics sped up the globalization of American tastes and tolerances, immigrant communities felt more comfortable, and their cookbooks began to include native recipes, native languages, and a palpable sense of ethnic, cultural, or religious pride.

Meanwhile, women’s roles in the home changed, which necessarily affected the tone of their community cookbooks. Early books emphasized the power of women to affect the physical and moral health of their families through the meals that were served. Bower writes, “They used a lot of terms like ‘domestic scientist’ or ‘minister of the family state,’ ” perhaps as a way of compensating for or distracting women from the constricted sphere in which they lived.

In time, women edged out into the world of business, and the standards for domestic mastery expanded to include speed and convenience as well as healthfulness and taste.

Most cookbooks, however, still enforced the notion of the woman as the cook, regardless of her social or professional standing (witness the defensive title of the 1955 National Women’s Press Club cookbook: Who Says We Can’t Cook?).

Today, many community cookbooks have occasional male contributors and a much-heightened awareness of health and ecological issues. But in fact, says Bower, the cookbooks still display old attitudes about women and cooking.

“It’s still mostly women writing the books, and they’re still in charge of our health. We still believe that we can make the world a better place by what we feed our families.”

THIS WAS certainly true of my mother, though she was never very skilled as a cook. I recently went back to her charred cookbook to see what culinary stories she had picked up as a young woman. The cookbook came out of Utah in the mid-’50s, so women were the kitchen authorities, gentle tyrants of the stovetop, feeding hungry men and eager children (as depicted in the crudely drawn cartoons at the front of each chapter).

There were the scientific-looking tables of measurements, the chapter full of thrifty household hints, and the obligatory poem on how to keep your husband happy–important reading for my mother, who was a single student at Brigham Young University at the time. With the pressure surrounding unmarried women of that time and place, she surely would be studying the pages of these and other cookbooks not only for guidelines, but also for fantasies of the wedded life to come.

MY MOTHER, being a newcomer to this congregation, contributed no recipes of her own, but, like many a dedicated student of other literary genres, she wrote copious marginalia, noting prices of various cuts of meat and cutting recipes by two-thirds, her singlehood revealing itself.

The community she joined consisted of sturdy, practical women whom she would come to know well (relatives of her friend and soon-to-be sister-in-law were major content providers). Most of the recipes were modest and made large quantities; their directions assumed competence and Mormon utilitarianism, with the possible exception of the desserts, which took more pages than any other category.

Perhaps the contributors wanted their friends to think they made desserts often, or maybe this was just a manifestation of a dream, an image of the sweeter life that everyone wanted in those postwar years.

Maybe on my second reading I can get to a discursive analysis of the salad dressings. Someday I might even get Mom to confess to the circumstances of the burnt book.

But I’ve read enough to recognize this fading set of recipes for what it is: a rich primary text for the story of my mother’s life.

From the June 29-July 5, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Santa Rosa and Petaluma Master Plans

Master Plan

A tale of two cities and their approaches to planning

By Stephanie Hiller

MORE HOUSES? High-rises downtown? Traffic and more traffic? Here comes the “g” word–not “growth” this time, but “general plan.” This year, Sonoma County’s two biggest cities, Santa Rosa and Petaluma (as well as Rohnert Park), have each embarked on a periodic revision of their general plan, that unwieldy document that guides development. Both have employed Dyett & Bhatia as their consultants, but there the similarity ends.

While Santa Rosa is doing a routine, every-fifth-year update of its plan, Petaluma has launched an ambitious exercise to create “a comprehensive general plan for the whole community–kind of a 20-year business plan,” according to Pamela Tuft, who holds the unique position of general-plan director in Petaluma.

Petaluma City Councilman Matt McGuire, sounding more like John Seed than the typical city official, talks about “honoring the interconnectedness of all things,” measuring and quantifying the environmental impacts and then “using that as a framework to direct us in how we structure our general plan.”

Back in staid Santa Rosa, you’ll hear no such inspired talk. Yet that city’s general-plan revision, humdrum as it may sound, will have significant impacts on the quality of life. General plans matter: through legislation and through case law, the general plan has assumed the status of the “constitution for all future development,” according to LAFCO (Local Agency Formation Commission).

Enviros say that “it’s not the plan, it’s the planning.” For local housing activist Sonya Taylor, Santa Rosa could do better. “This is the first revision since the urban growth boundaries [were voted in four years ago, limiting the city’s sprawl for 20 years], and growth pressures are stronger than ever before. It would have been a good time to do a major update [in Santa Rosa].”

To begin with, Santa Rosa city officials were not going to invite citizens to offer their views, but, according to Taylor, they got pressured into it. The 18-month process now involves monthly workshops in each of the four quadrants of Santa Rosa, after which the city’s planning management team, which is made up of staff and volunteers, will make recommendations to consultants, who will draft a general plan and bring it back to the citizenry.

“Ultimately it’s those four votes on the City Council [that will decide the fate of the plan],” says Ken Wells, a citizen member of the planning management team. Wells would like more emphasis on environmental impacts than he sees happening. “One of the more troubling areas is that everything’s paid for by development. Unless the community is willing to tax itself, it’s impossible for jurisdictions to raise money.”

The surging economy and growth of jobs have produced a terrible imbalance in the housing sector, especially affordable housing, which is, in Taylor’s view, “the issue of the decade.”

“We’ve taken a strong stand for mixed-density housing,” says Santa Rosa City Councilwoman Noreen Evans, referring to the council’s recent directive that Safeway’s latest project at the old Yardbirds site must include affordable housing. “The reality is that people are coming here, so we might as well put them where we want them!”

Santa Rosa Mayor Janet Condron agrees. “We want to establish more mixed use,” she says, “higher densities, more affordable housing.”

WHAT’S STOPPING IT? Money, says Steve Burke, director of Santa Rosa’s Housing Authority. “It’s not the plan that does it. What we need most is the source of revenue.”

Builders would rather construct upscale, market-rate housing, with its higher profit margin; they’re tired of being asked to bear the costs of affordable housing. City leaders hope that a study currently in progress will show the most effective ways of securing that money, whether through raising in-lieu fees paid by developers or requiring businesses to cover more of the costs of the housing their workers will need.

It’s become commonplace to blame urban growth boundaries for the high cost of housing, since they put the brakes on annexations. But analysts say that Santa Rosa–one of five Sonoma County communities to adopt UGBs–still has plenty of space within those boundaries to meet its growth-requirements projections for 20 years, as well those of the Association of Bay Area Governments. Since ABAG was created in 1961, the agency’s projections have set the pace for city planning throughout the Bay Area. City planning must accommodate ABAG numbers in order for a city to get certified and funded. But there are no penalties if those houses never get built.

ABAG tries to distribute the growth through the nine-county region it represents, but since Marin County has a no-growth policy, the pressure for additional North Bay housing gets pushed on Sonoma County, which is expected to grow by 25 percent in the next 20 years, owing more to the birthrate than to newcomers.

USING a median income of $58,100, ABAG predicts a need for 5,465 new units in Santa Rosa in the next seven and a half years. Of those, some 1,800 houses must be built for very-low- and low-income families.

The solution, in the parlance of today’s “smart planning,” is higher and mixed densities in appropriate sections of the city, like the downtown area.

“We could build single-family sprawl,” says Taylor. “But we’ve seen what happened in Silicon Valley. What we’re trying to do is build higher densities in certain areas to get affordable housing and to get better neighborhoods. Then you can designate more land for parks.”

It’s the public that is most resistant to the idea of higher densities. “People don’t like change” is the mayor’s explanation.

But Taylor says sympathetically, “The bottom line is that growth brings a huge amount of problems. Transportation gets worse and roads don’t get better. There’s a perceived loss of privacy. Schools get more crowded.”

But a mixed-use neighborhood, where shopping is close at hand and public transportation is available, offers convenience that can be a boon for elders and creates lively streets that attract young people. “I think it’s Santa Rosa’s responsibility to convince people that mixed density will maintain a higher quality of life,” says Taylor.

Must we have those higher densities? Lisa Kranz, a city planner working on the general plan revision, “can’t say.”

But for attorney Dick Day of Concerned Citizens for Santa Rosa, the picture is quite clear: “We don’t have a tremendous need for starter castles on the hill, yet that’s what they’re building. What we need is a growth management and allocation plan that will insist that 50 to 70 percent of new houses are affordable.”

Will it be done?

Wait and see, or join the process. Monthly meetings are coming up in the next six months for southeast and northeast Santa Rosa.

From the June 29-July 5, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Hamburger Ranch and Pasta Farm

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Blue-collar burgers: Chef/owner Ray Pesce is carrying on the working-class tradition at the Hamburger Ranch and Pasta Farm in Cloverdale, which has served local ranchers, loggers, and travelers for more than 50 years.

On the Road

A rustic haven for hungry travelers

By Paula Harris

THE HOGS ARE packing the parking lot of this old roadside barbecue and burger joint–motorcycles, that is. Gleaming Harleys are lined wheel-to-wheel, three and four abreast, while cars and trucks clumsily vie for space in the dusty parking lot under the trees in Oat Valley.

We pull our car into the last remaining spot–and it’s a tight squeeze. I gingerly open the door, careful not to send a nearby cluster of motorbikes sprawling dominolike across the gravelly ground.

Seems everyone’s here at Cloverdale’s Hamburger Ranch and Pasta Farm this Saturday lunchtime for the same reason: to grab a burger and a cold beer before heading back onto the freeway. The place is swarming with scores of men (and a few women) wearing leathers and black shades and jabbering loudly.

The bikers crowd the outdoor seating areas, sprawling on plastic chairs beneath the green-and-white striped umbrellas, tossing back lagers. A big ol’ barbecue pit is smoking merrily; a pile of logs is stacked to one side ready for the evening barbecue (summer weekends between 5 and 9 p.m.)

The building that’s now the Hamburger Ranch and Pasta Farm restaurant started out more than 50 years ago as the Top o’ the Hill Texaco Gas Station and segued into a popular watering hole and eatery for local ranchers, loggers, and travelers.

It’s an old-style mom-‘n’-pop place, with clunky, rustic wooden chairs and barstools, plastic squeezy color-coded ketchup and mustard bottles on the tables, and oldies on the sound system. It’s the kind of place you’d still expect to find 25-cent hamburgers and 10-cent coffee–of course the prices are a bit steeper than that these days, but still a deal.

The scarred wooden wall panels are plastered with postcards. “Your place takes me back to the 1950s and family vacation time,” reads one dog-eared card in a cheerful scrawl. “It’s a real blast from the past.” Another describes how the smoky-sweet smell of the barbecue lured a carload of motorists headed for Elk off the road and into the restaurant.

We manage to find a small booth near the cash register. There follows a long wait with a lot of noisy activity. With every jarringly loud door slam accompanied by a jangly bell, more bikers come inside to pay for their lunches at the counter.

The line forms for the cash register right by our table, and since they’re at our eye level, we’re condemned to watch a constant parade of leather-clad biker butts awaiting their turn. Shiny black. Shiny black. Shiny peacock green with black drawstrings. Shiny black. Shiny black almost resting on our tabletop.

The “entertainment” wears pretty thin after about 35 minutes.

THE WAITRESS, an overwhelmed young woman edgily snapping gum, finally gets to us. “Is it usually like this?” we yell above the din. “No, today we’ve been ambushed by a biker club,” she hollers with a shrug and a gum pop.

We order a hearty, stomach-filling fettuccine with homemade marinara sauce ($5.75/half order). The half order is generous enough. The sauce is crammed with mushrooms and tomatoes. It’s good, tasty roadside fare–a dish that could keep you going till way past Elk.

The award-winning “World Famous Hamburger” ($3.20) sounds promising. But we’re disappointed by the burger, served in a plastic basket on a sheet of greaseproof paper. The textureless meat is woefully thin, dry, and badly burned (we’d requested medium-well and this is, well, well). It doesn’t look or taste homemade. The only saving grace is a golden heap of excellent French fries–wedge-cut russets with the skins left on and deep-fried in canola oil.

The grilled garden burger ($3.95) is even worse than the hamburger–and rock-hard around the edges to boot–but the accompanying scallion-flecked potato salad is very good.

The food is far better when we return on a Thursday evening. There are still plenty of diners, but the atmosphere is calmer. Tiny lights illuminate the trees outside, and Louis Armstrong plays on the sound system.

A half order of cheese-filled ravioli ($5.75) in delicate pesto cream sauce is a luscious treat (the same dish would cost double in an upscale Italian trattoria). A turkey burger ($4.25) is a succulent oval flecked with herbs and black pepper. The texture of the patty is good–almost shredded rather than ground. Very tasty.

We order the half-pound burger called “International Connection” ($6.95), and this time everything’s as it should be. Ordered “medium,” the juicy meat is cooked perfectly, with a homemade taste and texture. It’s a trucker’s dinner–a thick half-pound patty on top of two hunks of garlic bread wrapped in melted jack and heaped with jalapeños, pickles, tomatoes, lettuce, and grilled onions. Good stuff.

A bottle of Fetzer 1997 Home Ranch Zinfandel ($18), selected from the small wine list, is the perfect inexpensive burger wine. Although most folks here drink beer.

One quibble (apart from the slow service) is that this time no fries come with the burgers and we have to order them separately (ranch fries, $1.55). Unfortunately, they finally arrive only after we’ve eaten our burgers.

The only homemade dessert offered is a little gem: a pumpkin pudding cake ($2.25) that offers a smooth pumpkin-cinnamon custard and a comforting slice of nostalgia. All at once it’s Thanksgiving in the middle of June.

There are a few glitches, but for price and funky atmosphere, Hamburger Ranch and Pasta Farm is well worth a detour.

Hamburger Ranch and Pasta Farm Top of the Hill–Cloverdale, 31195 N. Redwood Hwy., Cloverdale; 894-5616 Hours: Daily, 7 a.m. to 9 p.m. Food: The name says it all, plus barbecued items on summer weekend evenings Service: Either overwhelmed or just slow Ambiance: Old-fashioned mom-‘n’-pop roadhouse; loud, intense, and crowded on weekends; more comfortable outside Price: Inexpensive Wine list: Small selection of inexpensive wines Overall: 2 1/2 stars (out of 4)

From the June 29-July 5, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Usual Suspects

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Petaluma Fever

County gives Payran area residents a clean bill of health, despite charges of an official coverup

By Dawn Pillsbury

RESIDENTS of the flood-plagued Payran area are not ill because of any discernible environmental cause, the Sonoma County Department of Health Services has found. Still a handful of residents reportedly are charging that the county is covering up the truth. J. J. Krug, director of environmental health for Sonoma County, says that though the department looked carefully for any commonality or pattern in the illnesses reported by Payran residents to the department hotline, it did not find any.

“It’s not unusual for people to notice something unusual,” he explains. “The classic example is a cancer cluster. Then you go in and you might find something that was giving people cancer. But we didn’t find anything.”

Krug says the department could not run its own tests of the area because the reported symptoms did not point to any probable environmental cause. “It would be like trying to hit a piñata blindfolded,” he says. “You have to know what to test for before you go in.”

Daymon Doss, CEO of the Petaluma Health Care District, says the cases came to the district’s attention about a month ago, when a woman phoned a district triage nurse to report symptoms and said others in her area had similar problems. The district nurse informed a Health Services nurse, and the department authorized testing of any Payran resident who had similar complaints.

Reported symptoms include gastrointestinal problems, various coldlike and flulike symptoms, upper respiratory distress, shortness of breath, skin rashes, polyps, burning eyes, migraines, and anxiety.

“The county was looking for a commonality of symptoms,” Doss says. “As far as I know, they didn’t find any.”

He adds that several of the residents who complained of symptoms are district patients, and their cases will be followed up individually.

But some local residents–already distrustful of public officials after repeated mishandling of flood relief in the flood-prone neighborhood–have complained to the press that they believe the county is covering up the truth.

AS FOR PAYRAN residents’ criticism of official handling of the symptoms, Doss says: “The department was very straightforward with us.”

The project under way in the Payran neighborhood that has some residents concerned is the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers’ and the city of Petaluma’s flood-control project between Lynch Creek and the railroad bridge south of Lakeville Street.

The Petaluma River has flooded the neighborhood five times in the past 20 years in a neighborhood in which about 1,000 people live.

Some 600 residential and commercial buildings are built on the 100-year floodplain. The project is scheduled to be completed next year. Tom Hargis, director of water resources and conservation for Petaluma, says that the Army Corps of Engineers did extensive testing of the Payran basin soil in conjunction with the project.

The only toxin discovered was from two abandoned diesel tanks, which he says were removed along with the contaminated soil around them.

“We do know the workers who have been in constant contact with the soil have not had those illnesses–none of our workers and none of the Army Corps of Engineers’,” Hargis says.

Mike Osborn, whose house backs on the river, says he has not had any problems because of the river. “Nobody around here has had any illness because of it,” he says. “And I know almost everyone on the block.” But, he says, he does not allow his 3-year-old daughter to play in the river, or even go near it.

The hotline for Payran residents who are suffering possibly related symptoms is 575-4747.

From the June 29-July 5, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Spins

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Do-right woman: Candye Kane solidifies her career change.

Ear Candye

Gut-bucket blues from ex-porn star

Candye Kane The Toughest Girl Alive (Bullseye)

HERE’S AN antidote to all those squeaky-clean, teeny-voiced teen divas polluting the airwaves. Blues belter Candye Kane–a former topless model and onetime blue-movie queen–returns with her third album of sassy swing, gut-bucket blues, rollicking rockabilly, and fun-loving shtick from a stacked singer who has gone from teen mom to welfare mother to battered wife to fat girl to bisexual recording artist. Often naughty and bawdy, Kane strikes with a lot of charm. It would be a real mistake to write her off as a novelty act, though that might be the impression if you’ve ever seen her play piano with her breasts. Guests include Dave Alvin and Marcia Ball. Greg Cahill

Marah Kids in Philly (E-Squared/Artemis)

LATELY, traditional rock ‘n’ roll on indie labels has been an alternative to “alternative” mainstream major-label acts like Matchbox 20. On Kids in Philly, Marah do what the big pop-rock boys don’t do: they concentrate on human- interest detail, they don’t ham-fistedly overstate their seriousness, and they sound as though they’re enjoying themselves. It’s a busy, crowded sound, where elements like banjo and xylophone work as propulsion rather than accent–often scruffy, always exuberant. Imagine the Counting Crows as a Jersey bar band, or Bruce Springsteen’s early “E-Street Shuffle” era as part of the current neo-folk Americana scene. Classic rock? How about classically yearning rock idealism? Karl Byrn

doubleDrive 1000 Yard Stare (MCA)

THERE’S MUCH more to the “nu-metal” of Korn and Limp Bizkit than mere rap-fusion. A separate musical identity lurks beneath the surface of their popular rap-metal angst, and doubleDrive crystallizes it. 1000 Yard Stare is as crisply focused and doggedly consuming as its title implies, mixing the speed of punk with the big bluesy riffs of Black Sabbath–and if that sounds like a formula for ’80s thrash, the fresh magic spark is the reflective questioning of ’90s alternative. Musically, they’re a missing link between Pearl Jam and Iron Maiden–a link Metallica is still trying to find. K.B.

From the June 29-July 5, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Sonoma Valley Poetry Fest

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Word play : Kyrie Dawson is helping with promotion for this annual event.

Valley of Verse

Poetry seizes high ground at Sonoma Valley Poetry Fest

By Daedalus Howell

THE MONTH of July is generally reserved for fireworks, fond remembrances of the Revolution, and domestic beer. But in Sonoma Valley, the fireworks come in the form of words, the revolution is part of the rediscovery of poetry sweeping the nation, and the beer is most likely ale from Murphy’s Irish Pub.

Now in its fifth year, the Sonoma Valley Poetry Festival presents a slate of 15 poetry events during July at a dozen venues throughout the valley. The festival features the verse of local and nationally acclaimed poets. The diverse offerings include work by poets young and old and even dead.

“When Bill Moyers came, he said, ‘Poetry is the heart of democracy,’ ” recalls local writer and educator Arthur Dawson, speaking of the venerated journalist and author whose appearance at the first poetry festival continues to galvanize the community.

“[Moyers] explained that democracy is partly about government, but it’s also about people being willing to listen to each other,” Dawson continues. “I think that poetry is a way we can listen to each other and create community.”

Dawson, a member of California Poets in the Schools, admits that poetry was once relegated to the ass-end of the body politic, or shoved off into the fringe world of greeting cards. But as early as the mid-’80s, Dawson began to recognize a shift in the form’s popularity, which was buoyed by the advent of the Apple Macintosh and the subsequent maelstrom of desktop and small-press publishing that brought the work of many poets to the public eye.

“I think poetry gives people a chance to express who they are and what they’re thinking, but it’s also the last stronghold of noncommercial messages. Nobody writes poetry to make money. There are those of us who write poetry–and teach–who may make part of a living from that, but there are very few poets who can make a living just by writing poetry. The payoff is more of a spiritual and psychological payoff,” says Dawson, whose publication credits include his poem “Why I Might Have a Problem with Human Cloning,” published in Mothering Magazine.

“There’s no Nike poet, and God forbid if there ever was,” he adds. “I think poetry is riding a really strong wave right now, and it seems like it’s still building, but it’s hard to imagine it becoming trendy.”

Though it may not be trendy, the Sonoma Valley Poetry Festival, which operates under the aegis of the Sonoma Valley Educational Fund, has been known to turn a buck. All profits go to the California Poets in the Schools program, which brings working Golden State poets to students. This year, all contributions received by the festival will be matched by the Morris Foundation, an adjunct organization of the festival.

“We’ve been involved with the Poetry Festival off and on for about five years. We think it’s a wonderful experience to have poetry in the community. It brings everything to life,” says Readers’ Books proprietor Andy Weinberger, who with his spouse, Lilla, is putting together a slate of nationally recognized poets on Saturday, July 22, that will include Oakland’s Forrest Hamer, author of Call & Response: Poems, who is a recent recipient of the Beatrice Hawley Award.

At the General’s Daughter restaurant, poetry has been added to the dessert menu on Sunday, July 9, so diners may order up a live poetry reading as the “Nonfat Special,” “The Gourmand’s Delight,” or “The Works.”

Murphy’s Irish Pub, the popular watering hole that held the recent Bloomsday celebration in honor of James Joyce’s Ulysses, shifts to the works of another Irish son on Tuesday, July 11, when actors will recite from the work of William Butler Yeats.

A “Dead Poets” event on Wednesday, July 12, at Gundlach Bundschu Winery offers the fans a chance to read poems by their favorite deceased versifiers.

Other events include a double bill of “Soap Box Poetry and Multimedia” on Saturday, July 22, when poets are invited to rant and rave ˆ la the political barkers of London’s Hyde Park, presumably in the medium of their choosing.

ANOTHER PROGRAM that may pique the interest of local troubadours is the “Song Line Sonoma,” which encourages poets to cavort and bestow bon mots at selected pit stops throughout the city of Sonoma.

“Some aboriginal cultures don’t have a written language so what they do is sing songs and recite poems about all the places they’ve beenÑnot only in their lives but [in the lives of] generations preceding them as well. ‘Song Line Sonoma’ is our small version of that,” says Russ Bedford, one of this year’s festival organizers, who adds, “Poetry is entertainment.”

“Almost any poem, no matter how trivial or light it may be, whether it’s a limerick or an ode, is really a sincere expression on the part of the poet,” he says. “My own definition is that poetry is probably the most honest kind of expression there is because you know it’s the poet’s view and his mood and attitude toward a given subject at that moment. As a poet, you sweat.

“It’s difficult.”

Bedford sees the poetry festival as part of a movement of poetry-related events springing up in small towns across the country–a phenomenon he hopes continues.

“I think that poetry is becoming more accessible. Sonoma County is so active, with so many poets, from professionals to amateurs,” says Bedford. “You look around and you see that there are a lot of other towns that have active poetry readings and events.”

Dawson, who will helm readings of his students’ work as part of the Trinity Poetry Series at Trinity Episcopal Church, attributes much of success of such events to the fact that many of those in poetry audiences are often poets themselves.

“It may surprise you, but there are more poets than you would ever expect. I meet many people and later find out that they write,” he avers. “That’s one thing that the poetry festival doesÑit allows people to sort of come out of the closet and try out reading some of their poems and sharing what may be a hidden passion.”

The Sonoma Valley Poetry Festival 2000 runs July 2-30 at various venues throughout Sonoma Valley For maps, a schedule, and more information, call 935-POET.

From the June 29-July 5, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Jim Hightower

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Texas Twister

Lefty-at-large Jim Hightower blows into town

By Patrick Sullivan

A SEA OF SOFT MONEY swirls like sewage around our ankles as the American public watches a pair of empty-headed presidential candidates twitch feebly at the end of their corporate strings. Our nation’s media conglomerates grow fatter on a daily basis, sucking up smaller rivals and spitting out a growing array of business-friendly pabulum. Like Darth Vader turning the keys on the Death Star, megacorporations rev up the World Trade Organization, determined to extend Social Darwinist-style capitalism around the globe.

From a progressive point of view, politics these days are no laughing matter.

Unless, that is, you’re a lefty from the Lone Star State. In a strange geographic irony, the conservative state of Texas, home of red-meat-Republican Sen. Phil Gramm and the deadliest death row in the union, offers a parade of political activists and writers (like, say, Molly Ivins) with a virtue progressives are often accused of lacking–a good sense of humor.

Why Texas? It makes perfect sense to author, columnist, and political commentator Jim Hightower, the state’s former agricultural commissioner and current lefty-at-large who matches Ivins in his populist politics and his unshakable sense of humor.

“I guess we have a pretty well-refined sense of outrage here, as progressives generally do,” explains Hightower, speaking from his office in Austin. “But in Texas, there’s so much outrage around that you’ll either learn to laugh about it or it’ll drive you crazy.”

North Bay progressives will get a chance to laugh along with Hightower on Friday, July 7, when he gives a speech to kick off the third annual Labor and Social Action Summer School at Sonoma State University (see “Social Activist Summer School,” next page).

If anyone can offer advice on the riddles posed by progressive politics in a conservative age, it ought to be the 57-year-old Hightower. Born in the little town of Denison, the Texas native was immersed in the populist tradition from an early age, listening to political discussions around the Coke machine outside his father’s main-street newsstand. In high school, weighing in at a mere 111 pounds, he was an undersized but extremely scrappy linebacker. “My coach was so embarrassed, he listed me at 150 in the program,” he explains with a laugh.

The determined young ball player grew up to be an even scrappier political activist. After college, Hightower led citizens’ groups, ran campaigns for populist candidates, edited the legendary Texas Observer, and served two terms as the state’s ag commissioner, where he ignited furious opposition from agribusiness and the chemical industry by promoting organic farming and environmental safeguards.

These days, Hightower concentrates on spreading the populist word through his bestselling books, his newsletter (The Hightower Lowdown), and his syndicated radio show (Hightower Radio, which reaches more than a million listeners every week).

Fresh off the publication of his second book, If the Gods Had Meant Us to Vote, They Would Have Given Us Candidates (HarperCollins; $25), Hightower will speak to his Sonoma County audience on a topic that’s near and dear to his populist heart: the struggle for economic justice in the era of globalization.

“I’ll be talking about the failure of either of the two major political parties to address what I call globaloney,” he says in his distinctive Texas twang. “In the name of globalization, we’re essentially resorting back to trickle-down economics writ large, saying that if only our global corporations can be unleashed from any concerns about wages or workers’ rights or human rights or environmental contamination, then somehow or other magically this will result in prosperity for all and the bluebird of happiness will sing and peace will break out everywhere.

“We’ve had a long history of experience with this theory,” he adds. “And it hasn’t worked, in this country or anywhere else it’s been tried.”

You’ll find that argument made in greater detail in Hightower’s new book. But, as the title suggests, If the Gods also offers some acerbic commentary on the upcoming presidential race, which pits a millionaire member of a powerful national political dynasty against, well, another millionaire member of another political dynasty.

But Gore and Bush have something else in common besides their cushy backgrounds, says Hightower. Simply put, it’s easier to laugh at both men than with them.

“Both of those guys, and particularly Bush, are creatures of the political system,” he says. “They’re creatures of their consultants and their pollsters and their focus group coordinators and their speechwriters and their money interests. So they don’t seem to have any genuine humor beyond some sort of crude fraternity-boy sort of humor in Bush’s case, and a sort of stiff, scripted kind of humor by Gore.”

Take Action: Sonoma State University plays host to the Labor and Social Action School.

BACK WHEN he was in state government, Hightower was a Democrat. He says he still supports progressive Demos, but he displays a growing disgust with the party’s increasingly conservative tendencies. “Some say we need a third party,” he writes in his new book. “I wish we had a second one.”

It’s that sentiment that’s led Hightower to champion a bevy of alternative political organizations, from the Labor Party to the New Party. Just last week, he gave the nominating speech that put Ralph Nader at the top of the Green Party ticket, telling his audience at the convention in Denver, “Campaign 2000 just got hotter than high school love.”

Some might think that an oddly passionate sentiment to voice about Ralph Nader, who, whatever his strengths, doesn’t radiate much more excitement on the stump than Al Gore.

Indeed, some critics believe the growing support for Nader’s insurgent campaign will simply mean that the nation will end up with a Republican president in the White House.

“I think that’s a legitimate concern, but everybody’s got to decide on this issue for themselves,” Hightower replies. “Are we going to continue to back up and just fight defensive battles, or are we finally going to go on the offensive? Are we going to keep taking the lesser of two evils, or are we actually going to create candidates we can be for?

“As a farmer friend of mine once said, ‘Hightower, the status quo is Latin for the mess we’re in,’ ” he adds. “More and more people recognize that.”

BUT IF THE GODS doesn’t simply dis the carefully scripted candidates of the two mainstream parties. Among the most compelling parts of the book are tales of ordinary people taking progressive stands against corporate power. Those stories speak to what Hightower believes is a growing trend.

“I think that people are more ready now than they were five years ago or 10 years ago to go right at the issue of corporate power in our country,” he says. “The mainstream media don’t cover these things, these positive examples that I cited and many, many more that are out there. So I thought it would be useful in the book to highlight some of these so folks don’t feel they’re alone. People in Portland, Oregon, are fighting the same bastards that the people in Portland, Maine, are fighting. They just don’t know about it.”

Of course, the splashiest example of that stiffening popular resistance to corporate power is last November’s Battle in Seattle.

The huge street protests by environmentalists and union activists against the World Trade Organization’s meeting did more than shake the city’s image as a quiet haven for latte drinkers. Suddenly Americans who had previously imagined WTO to be, perhaps, a brand of motor oil were debating the ins and outs of world trade, discussions ignited by the dramatic scenes captured by television cameras of civil disobedience and police brutality.

Hightower was in the middle of that whirlwind, broadcasting his radio show from the streets and getting a good look at this budding social movement.

“It was very inspirational,” he says. “These were 50,000 uninvited guests to this obscure meeting of an arcane trade organization, and the people who came knew why they were there, knew what the issues were, and they were focused on the central issue, which is ‘Who the hell’s in charge these days? Who elected this bunch of corporate trade bureaucrats to rule the world?’

“Particularly I was inspired by the young people, who were knowledgeable, fearless, and organized,” he adds.

Many of those same protesters will be demonstrating outside the Democratic and Republican conventions this summer. In August, Hightower will join them at the Democratic Convention in Los Angeles.

He’s also rewriting If the Gods for an updated paperback version due out in January. With the radio show and the newspaper column and the newsletter, he certainly has enough to keep him busy.

But some of his most fervent supporters think there’s one more thing he could do: run for political office.

Don’t hold your breath, Hightower says.

“No, I’ve been cured of that,” he says with a laugh. “Basically I’ve found a way to run my mouth rather than running for office. And it’s a lot more satisfying, and I reach a whole lot more people.

“We try to give people strength, give people information, give people organizational encouragement,” he continues. “So that’s why I think this role of messenger that I’m engaged in right now is the best use of me.”

From the June 29-July 5, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

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