The Quick Change Room

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Fashion Statement

Actors Theatre stages a stylish finale

By Daedalus Howell

CHANGE IS GOOD, but The Quick Change Room is better. Actors Theatre’s season finale (penned by Nagel Jackson and directed by Joe Winkler) doesn’t shortchange with this rambunctious and touching portrait of a Russian theater company in the wake of perestroika.

Set in the quick-change room (the diminutive chamber where players undergo elaborate costume changes in seconds) backstage at the Kuzlov Theater in St. Petersburg, the play finds young ingenue Nina (Laura Odeh), the daughter of Marya, the wardrobe mistress (a wonderfully kvetching Laurie Whiteside), freshly cast as the youngest sister in a revival of Chekhov’s The Three Sisters. An aging Ludmilla Nevchenka (Sheri Lee Miller) attempts to thwart Nina’s rising star, however, after she is accidentally sent onstage with her bloomers bared by Nina’s mother.

Meanwhile, Boris (a note-perfect Kevin Lingener), the box office manager and a burgeoning capitalist, butts heads with the company’s director and resident aesthete, Sergey Sergeyevich Tarpin (Lyle E. Fisher), over the theater’s repertoire. The result is a slapdash musical spinoff-ovich of Chekhov’s masterpiece, less one sibling, dubbed “Oh, My Sister”–Jackson’s stinging indictment of the crass commercialism that infects art when greed replaces inspiration.

Out of Actors Theatre’s seven-play season,The Quick Change Room is the third play the company has produced that is concerned with theater itself (Moon over Buffalo and Private Eyes played earlier this year). And why not? Provocative and hilarious, AT’s The Quick Change Room is hot in three ways: the production is full-throttle fun, the partially clad actors are sexy (many tantalizing moments occur in the quick-change room as the players’ onstage costume changes reveal bustiers and other assorted lingerie), and, unfortunately, the theater space itself is stifling because of the late-spring swelter.

Miller plays her matronly grand dame, Ludmilla, with great comic gusto in what is regrettably her farewell performance on local stages (she has heeded the call of other interests and will surely be missed by audiences and thespians alike).

Odeh is stellar as her Nina makes the telltale transformation from plucky, starstruck ingenue to ambitious (read: conniving and mercenary) coquette and is easily Actors Theatre’s finest discovery this season.

Sasha, a young electrician disgruntled over the seeming chaos perestroika has wrought on financially strapped Russia, is wonderfully played by Matt Proschold, whose understated style makes for great comic contrast amid the frequent onstage blowouts.

Fisher’s Sergey Sergeyevich is a convincing depiction of a man whose artistry is being bulldozed by commercialism and the ambition of others–namely, his persnickety assistant Timofey, played by a scene-stealing Jason Breaw.

Tim Earles delivers a droll performance as company everyman Nikolai, an actor with a penchant for donning the wrong hat before hastily making his entrances. Anna, another Kuzlov comic (Beverly Bartels), takes an eloquent turn as she is forced to choose between selling out to commercial lunacy or being out of a gig. Likewise, Joan Feliciano’s excellently played assistant dresser, Lena, illustrates the hardships of post-Communist Russia during a poignant scene in which she discovers her daughter makes the rent by making it with tourists.

The Quick Change Room is a fine study of art’s perversion into insipid entertainment disguised as financial survival. At one point Ludmilla waxes philosophic about the company’s changing artistic climate with “We used to do it for life; now we do it for a living.”

Thankfully, the players at Actors Theatre still do it just for life.

The Quick Change Room plays Thursdays-Saturdays through June 24 at 8 p.m.; and Sundays at 2 p.m. Actors Theatre is located at the Luther Burbank Center, 50 Mark West Springs Road, Santa Rosa. $10-$15. 523-4185.

From the May 25-31, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Chemical Weapons at Sonoma County Airport

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Something rotten in Santa Rosa: Bill Carpentier, director of the Pacific Coast Air Museum at the Sonoma County Airport, says the Army’s disposal procedures at the facility left lots to be desired.

Blasts from the Past

Fifty years ago, the U.S. Army buried chemical weapons at the Sonoma County Airport. Is there still danger?

By Juliane Poirier Locke

SOMETIMES the past comes back to haunt us. In the fall of 1982, workers were overcome by a mysterious white gas, rising ghostlike from a ditch they were digging at the Sonoma County Airport. For a few weeks, the gaseous specter remained unexplained. Then a backhoe operator who was working at the airport in the same area–and who happened to be a bottle collector–saw a glint in a ditch he was about to cover with dirt. He stopped his equipment and got out to pick up the object he thought might be an old bottle.

The glass object looked like a foot-long test tube, about an inch thick and sealed at both ends. The strange vial passed hands a few times before reaching the office of airport manager David Andrews. It took Andrews 18 months of investigation to figure out what he had in his office, and he sent the final lab results to the Pentagon.

Only then did someone from the Army show up.

“It was mustard gas,” says Andrews, referring to the glass ampoule of 5 percent lewisite solution left in the ground from the World War II years. The act of digging had broken a whole cache of the ampoules and released a poisonous reminder of that distant war.

Lewisite, a chemical weapon used in World War II, was designed to cling to human skin and blister it. If you breath the stuff in, your lungs become a real mess. When the Sonoma County Airport was used as a fighter-training base, soldiers were instructed in identifying the smell of common chemical weapons. These ampoules were used for the scent-identification training.

“In World War I, the Germans were the worst offenders in using poison gas,” says one veteran of World War II. “The vets homes were full of guys who were disabled from breathing poison gas because the World War I guys weren’t that well trained. In order to train the World War II guys they developed these ampoules.”

What were those ampoules doing in the ground almost 40 years after the war?

Until around 1950, disposing of chemical warfare materials by burial was considered an acceptable practice. When the war was over, military personnel simply dug a hole, dumped the stuff in, and covered it up. This practice was accepted at military bases all over the country and in U.S. territories.

Once the burial was complete, says Louise Dycen, a U.S. Army representative in Maryland, “they poured decontamination solution on top.”

What kind of decontamination solution? She can’t say.

The Army and all other U.S. armed forces have been required to clean up the messes left from the war years under the terms of the Chemical Weapons Convention, an international treaty signed by the United States in 1993 and ratified by Congress in 1997. The treaty requires the military to destroy all the chemical weapons and chemical weapon production facilities that still exist in this country. The idea, according to a government publication, is to create a greater sense of global stability.

But it’s an open question how well the military has carried out those obligations.

Sonoma County residents are not in any immediate danger from buried chemical weapons, according to Andrews. “I don’t think there is any way to make sure it is all gone, but is there any appreciable amount? No.”

THERE ARE 200 sites in 38 states, in the District of Columbia, and on Johnson Island in the Pacific Ocean, where U.S. military chemical-weapon matériel is buried. These buried weapons are designated as nonstockpile, as opposed to weapons in storage at military bases.

In California, there are three other sites, besides Santa Rosa, where weapons were sent for cleanup. Fort Ord, nine miles north of Monterey, was the dump site for chemical weapons solutions, unexploded ordnance, heavy metals, and residues from explosives. Mt. Shasta, in the Siskiyous, had been the test site for 100-pound M47A2 butane bombs, and an unexploded 100-pound bomb was found there a few years ago, still full of butane. Finally, Edwards Air Force Base in Kern County was used to test air-dropped chemical bombs. In 1992, three bombs were found at the site with fuses still intact. They were detonated.

Nonstockpile chemical weapons can be a bit problematic for the Army, since military personnel can’t always remember precisely whether or where they buried them. In Sonoma County 20 years ago, for instance, there was some uncertainty about where exactly the ampoules of chemical-weapon solutions were buried. There is still some uncertainty about whether there are more under the ground. So much toxic material was dumped on the land back then, it might be difficult to keep track.

Bill Carpentier, director of the Pacific Coast Air Museum at the Sonoma County Airport, is a historian and a veteran of World War II who recalls how toxic disposal was carried out back then. “Fifty years ago nobody knew when you dumped a can of gas on the ground that anything was going to happen other than emptying the container,” Carpentier says.

Once, during the closing of a World War II U.S. military operation, Carpentier watched while a soldier, who had orders to dispose of a bunch of Harley-Davidson motorcycles, simply pushed them over a cliff into the ocean. Airplane mechanics, Carpentier says, would empty oil and fuel into the ground.

Carpentier explains that the Army was not alone in this kind of environmentally insensitive behavior–these were not enlightened times, and there were no state or federal environmental protection regulations back then. The grounds around the airport–almost 1,600 acres–soaked up whatever oil and fuel was routinely poured on them. The land bore the additional insult of being covered in paint, part of an attempt to make it look as if crops were growing there to disguise the location of the fighter-training base.

When the chemical-solution ampoules were bulldozed into the ground after the war, it was business as unusual, according to Carpentier. But he insists that all the ampoules have since been cleaned up.

ARMY RECORDS show that the ampoules were cleaned up in 1983. But when more were found in 1985, this time in jars the size of baby food containers, the site was cleaned up yet again by the Army Corps of Engineers, with assistance from the Army Toxic and Hazardous Materials Agency. There was an additional assessment of the site in 1992, and they’re still wondering what might be under the ground in the places they didn’t check.

Because there is no technology that can locate glass below the ground, the possibility that more ampoules may exist at the site has prompted the Army Corps of Engineers to advise the county against excavating the area–a site bordered by state, county, residential, and commercial property. A 1996 survey and analysis report by the Army notes that excavations are required and will be performed by the Army Corps of Engineers before the county does any construction work in the area.

The county detention center is built over the site where the ampoules were found, Andrews says. The detention center used to be the county honor farm. And the second site, where jars of chemical gases were uncovered, is “about 100 feet from the fence around the detention center.”

As long as the county does no development at the airport, there is no danger to public health from the buried ampoules. Andrews is not aware of any local construction projects in the works. However, the growth of development in many parts of the country is digging up the past and its sleeping dangers.

According to Ron Baker of the California Department of Toxins, the Army’s nonstockpile sites are not the biggest cause of war-related environmental and public health problems in the state. The real trouble is sitting under the dirt at 183 sites throughout the state–unexploded bombs at testing sites for defense manufacturers.

“A lot of it has to do with urban growth,” says Baker. “Most defense contractors were located way out in the boondocks. But the boondocks are becoming tomorrow’s cities.” Baker explained that “duds,” the bombs that don’t go off during tests, sit in the ground and can explode later when someone wants to develop the property.

A housing project in Benicia has been delayed five years because the property is adjacent to a former munitions factory and the ground is full of bombs. Construction has been halted on several occasions so bombs could be taken care of by experts. It’s uncertain whether the homes will ever be completed.

One large defense contractor in Southern California wants to turn part of its property into a housing development, Baker explains, but there is a real danger there. Heavy-metal poisoning in the ground may contaminate home gardens.

And if a homeowner wants a pool, he adds, there’s a good chance a backhoe could unearth and detonate a stray bomb left underground on the site. This same defense contracting corporation has tear gas and mustard gas buried on its land.

While the military is obliged by international treaty to dispose of its buried chemical weapons and clean up the environmental damage done to test sites, private defense contractors are not. Bombs being shipped to Vietnam from a private defense contractor during that war once got derailed near the town of Roseville, according to a government source in Sacramento. The shipping car turned over, and many bombs exploded. Others were buried, intact, by the pressure of the explosion.

Those bombs are still being found, even after the site was supposedly cleaned of all bombs.

Apparently, locating buried bombs is not an exact science yet. Contractors who made and sold chemical weapons did not keep records of where they left duds or explosive castoffs. The makers of these weapons are evidently not subject to the provisions of the same treaty under which the military is obliged to clean up the wastes of wartime.

AT THE PACIFIC Coast Air Museum, Carpentier shows a visitor the Santa Rosa Army Airfield map, painted beautifully in camouflage colors, as it was in the 1940s. The soil back then, masked by a painted-on uniform, served the war effort simply by being permeable and, like a good soldier, stoically taking whatever was dished out.

“At the end of 1945, all of us had one goal–to get the hell out of the military and go home,” says Carpentier. That’s when chemical weapons were buried and considered disposed of. “The environmental problems only surfaced about 30 years ago,” Carpentier says. “Guys like me who are hunters and fishermen noticed there was a depletion in game.”

In the small museum building, itself relic of World War II, Carpentier points to the ceiling, hung with models of World War II fighter planes. Photos of local pilots are posted with histories of successful and unsuccessful missions. In a glass case is a headless uniform wearing a gas mask.

Carpentier, like others who served in World War II, is ready to pick a fight with anyone who would disparage the military. But while he still proudly defends his country of half a century ago, he recognizes that mistakes were made in disposing of toxic materials.

“I wish that there hadn’t been a war . . . that gave rise to this pollution,” says Carpentier.

From the May 25-31, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

‘Gladiator’

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From English accents to the meaning of “Cohort,” Riders in the Sky take on ‘Gladiator’

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.

It is High Noon in Reno, Nevada. The sky is smeared with a gravy-gray gloom, and the midday air is growing chill in anticipation of an oncoming storm. Cooling my heels, I wait beside the box-office of a big downtown movie theater. Across the street is John Ascuaga’s Nugget Casino, where a massive light-studded marquee is gleefully flashing the words “Riders in the Sky! Performing Tonight!”

I check my watch, and continue my surveillance of the Nugget. From beneath the marquee a door finally opens, and out strides Woody Paul, the “King of the Cowboy Fiddlers.” Seeing me waiting, he hurries over. A mild-mannered MIT graduate and one-time plasma physicist, Woody Paul traded his test tubes for a cowboy fiddle 25 years ago, hitting the trail with the very same band whose name is now blinking 50 feet above his head.

Riders in the Sky, a quartet of singing cowboys who park their ponies in Nashville, are in Reno for a series of concerts at the Nugget. With a high energy act that combines roping, yodeling, and home-on-the-range harmonizing, the Riders (ridersinthesky.com) dress and sing in the grand tradition of Roy Rogers and Gene Autrey–with an added dash of cowboy camp and innuendo a la Mel Brooks’ Blazing Saddles. After thirty-plus albums, two T.V. shows, a long-running NPR radio program, and almost 5000 performances, the Riders in the Sky are currently enjoying a happy boost in popularity, due in part to Woody’s Roundup, the kitschy Randy Newman song they sing in Toy Story 2. Last week, in fact, they completed work on a new CD, to be released in September by Walt Disney. The recording will feature a passel of new Rider’s songs “suggested by” the Toy Story characters, none of whom remotely resembles the blood-drenched macho men in Ridley Scott’s Gladiator, the film I am about to see with Riders in the Sky.

Woody ambles up to collect his movie ticket, and we step out of the windy gloom into the theater, where the other Riders–stand-up bass-player Too Slim, guitar-strumming head-yodeler Ranger Doug (“The idol of American youth”), and master accordionist Joey the Cow Polka King–are already waiting.

“Howdy!” they all say.

“I watch a lot of movies,” drawls Woody Paul, taking his seat. “We’re always travelin’ so I see videos in the RV. I buy ’em for two dollars at truck stops along the way. You can buy some pretty good movies at truck stops. I just watched Citizen Ruth last week. That was great.

“Been a long time since I saw a good gladiator film, though.”

Starring Russell Crowe as wronged Roman general Maximus, Gladiator is a veritable pageant of blood, death and betrayal. After Maximus, faithful follower of Emperor Marcus Aurelius, is betrayed by Aurelius’ evil son Commodus (Joaquin Phoenix), the general is sold into slavery and eventually is forced into service as a gladiator. He broods. He fights. He dreams of freedom. Eventually, he is brought to Rome, where he faces off against his old enemy Commodus.

The cowboys loved it. More or less.

“It kind of bothered me to see a Roman with an English accent,” says Woody, gobbling oysters after the show. “All the Romans sounded like Rex Harrison.”

Heads nod around the table.

“On the other hand,” Ranger Doug points out, “if they’d spoken in Latin, it would have been impossible for people to understand.”

“Only historians and old Roman Catholics would have known what was going on,” agrees Too Slim, aggressively buttering a 10-inch bread stick.

“I want to know why we didn’t see more animal fights,” says Woody.

“I want to know who really did succeed Marcus Aurelius,” says Ranger Doug, “and why didn’t he have a better barber?”

“What I want to know is if Commodus inspired the commode,” asks Joey.

“You know, if we were all Romans,” Ranger Doug decides, “Joey would have to be called Squeezius Maximus.”

“Slim would be Thumpus Continuous,” says Joey.

“And Ranger Doug would be Yodellus,” Too Slim suggests.

“Or Twangus Out-of-tunus,” Ranger Doug adds.

What about Woody?

“Fiddilus,” offers Ranger Doug. “Or just Woodimus Paullus.”

Woodimus Paullus. The Emperor of the Cowboy fiddlers.

“I like that,” shrugs Woody.

Turning to Slim, Ranger Doug remarks, “I’m sure you noticed the correct use of the word ‘cohort’?”

“Sure did. I was thrilled for you,” Slim grins, explaining, “Ranger Doug can’t stomach misuse of the word ‘cohort.'”

“You might call him a cohort-phobe,” adds Joey.

“You see,” says Doug, “according to Webster’s, a cohort was a group of Roman soldiers numbering 480 men or more. Ten cohorts formed one legion. But frequently, people come up to me for autographs after a show, and they’ll say, ‘Hey, where are your cohorts?’

“Cohorts? Cohorts? Sorry, but there aren’t that many of them.”

Just when it seems as if the conversation will never turn serious, Too Slim offers an interesting theory.

“The theme at the heart of Gladiator is really an old western theme,” he says. “Maximus is like the Sheriff, a dangerous man with a pure spirit, thrust into the corruption of Rome or Tombstone, Arizona, with the thought that maybe he’ll have a positive impact, that his uncompromised integrity will be a flash-point for the moral development and enhancement of the whole town, or for that matter, of the whole entire race. That’s a powerful theme within Western Civilization, a powerful religious theme, a powerful theme in movies and literature. It strikes really deep and makes you sit up in your chair.”

Once again, heads nod all around the table.

“I’ll tell you how much I liked this movie,” concludes Woodimus Paullus. “I’ll say it right now: Someday I will go to a truck stop and pay as much as three dollars–make that three dollars and a half–and then I’ll watch it all over again.”

From the May 25-31, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Right to Know Genetically Engineered Food Labeling Ballot Initiative

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By Greg Cahill

THE RECENT DRIVE to garner 413,000 signatures to qualify the California Right to Know Genetically Engineered Food Labeling Ballot Initiative for the November state election fell far short of its goal. Organizer Bob Cannard and a cadre of volunteers collected just 100,000 signatures in the 150 days allowed under state law. Cannard plans to reassess the effort, which would have required manufacturers and retailers to label GMO products, and may take another shot at it.

Last month, the federal Food and Drug Agency released its long-awaited recommendations on GMOs–Cannard was one of hundreds who spoke at a series of four public hearings held nationwide by the FDA. The decision: The FDA will not require food-safety testing or additional labeling of GMO products.

Meanwhile, Cannard reports several “hopeful signs” in the campaign to inform consumers about their food sources. State Sen. Tom Hayden has introduced a GMO labeling bill in the California Legislature, Rep. Lynn Woolsey is co-sponsoring a similar bill in Congress, and Sen. Barbara Boxer has followed suit. Cannard urges voters to write to legislators and support those bills.

In the corporate world, concern about consumer backlash has led fast-food giant McDonald’s to stop using GMO potatoes for its french fries, and Frito-Lay has instructed contract farmers not to grow genetically engineered corn for the company’s chips.

Further information about the biotech debate and Cannard’s organizing efforts is available at www.calrighttoknow.org.

From the May 25-31, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Jazz Night at the Movies

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Round Midnight, is featured in rare clips at the Healdsburg Jazz Festival film archive program.

Clip Art

Film collector’s rare jazz footage premieres at Healdsburg Jazz Fest

By Paula Harris

AS A LOS ANGELES kindergarten teacher, Mark Cantor may spend most days wiping runny noses and reciting nursery rhymes. But once school lets out, his role switches to Mark Cantor, music film archivist and historian in search of buried cinematic treasures.

Endowed with a lifelong love of music, Cantor, 51, has turned an all-encompassing hobby into a second full-time job. For the past 30 years, he has researched, located, preserved, and collected rare and historic music performances on film.

His vast collection of footage includes more than 4,000 individual film clips dating back to the early 1920s. It consists of mostly jazz performances, with a sprinkling of blues, country and western, and rhythm and blues.

“It all started as an outgrowth of early record collecting,” he explains. “I found I loved doing this because it gave another dimension to the music.”

Cantor will be delving into his extensive archive to combine a series of rare clips for “Jazz Night at the Movies,” a two-hour presentation and discussion that kicks off the second annual Healdsburg Jazz Festival, on Thursday, June 1. The unique footage will offer rare glimpses of about 25 noteworthy jazz performers.

“They’ll be very well-known artists. What’s unknown is that these particular performances are exceedingly rare and can’t be seen anywhere in the world,” says Cantor. “There are a number of films, [such as] many European television programs, that have not been seen in the United States and that have never been rebroadcast in Europe, which we will be screening for the first time at the Sonoma County event.”

The presentation includes footage by such musical legends as Wes Montgomery, Dinah Washington, Dexter Gordon, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Ben Webster, and Eric Dolphy. The program also features historical clips of jazz giants Duke Ellington, Louis Armstrong, Charlie Parker, and Billie Holiday.

Filmmakers, television producers, and journalists regularly rely on Cantor’s expertise relating to jazz music and its documentation on film. And Cantor taps into a specialized network of collectors, preservationists, and historians to amass footage from many sources all over the world.

These include old movies and obscure television programs. In addition, some of the footage comes from jukebox film shorts, from an era when technically elaborate machines known as “soundies” were a fixture in bars, restaurants, and roadhouses. For a few cents you could peer into the box and see a few frames of film along with the sound.

Cantor is writing a book on the phenomenon, which was a kind of 1940s precursor to MTV.

THE QUALITY of the clips that Cantor receives varies widely. “Some are crisp originals, some muddy duplicates, and some are actually videotapes that must be transferred to film,” he says, adding that he is sometimes able to improve the quality, especially by digitizing the sound.

“Each clip has its own feel, just as each jazz performance reflects the feelings of the artists involved,” says Cantor. “Passionate and exciting are certainly [a good way to describe them]. Also fascinating, swinging, inventive, instructive, sometimes even funny. And almost always compelling. Remember, we’re talking about jazz and blues, which is a music of spontaneous creation.”

Cantor, whose interest in jazz ranges from early ragtime to the most contemporary expressions of the art form, says he cannot place a monetary value on the film collection. But, he says, the music itself is a national treasure.

“It’s the most original contribution Americans have made to world culture,” he explains. “[My collection is] a part of this treasure, and I wouldn’t know how to begin valuing it in terms of dollars and cents.”

So what’s the biggest high to be had when collecting such a kaleidoscopic view of jazz history captured on film?

Uncovering a real gem, says Cantor.

He cites as an example the late bebop trumpet master Clifford Brown’s only film appearance, which Cantor says “was rumored for years and only recently discovered. It’s truly exhilarating. Sort of like locating King Tut’s tomb, I guess. One loves the music and the artist, who has been dead for years. Now one can actually see him in live performance. Presto, change-o . . . the genius of Brownie lives on!”

Cantor believes the presentation will strike a real nostalgic nerve with local jazz buffs. “It’s going to be an opportunity to see historic performances by artists who have since passed away,” he explains. “This collection is their legacy–and it’s an exciting one.”

Jazz Night at the Movies hits the big screen on Thursday, June 1, at 7 p.m. at the Raven Film Center, 415 Center St., Healdsburg. Tickets are $8. For more information, call 433-4633.

Fest Highlights

THE SECOND ANNUAL Healdsburg Jazz Festival promises to be an antidote to the endless river of smooth jazz poisoning the airwaves. The fest opens on Wednesday, May 31, with a gala dinner and solo piano concert with pianist Fred Hersch ($125), at Villa Chanticleer. Hersch also performs two sold-out shows with Jane Ira Bloom on Friday, June 2, at the Raven Performing Arts Theater. Film archivist Mark Cantor serves up a “Jazz Night at the Movies” at the Raven Theater on Thursday, June 1, at 7 p.m. The great sounds continue on Saturday, June 3, at 1 p.m. when the George Coleman Quartet, with George Cables, Victor Lewis, and acclaimed tenor saxophonist Pharoah Sanders, who played for two years with the John Coltrane Quintet, perform outdoors at Rodney Strong Vineyards ($32.50). Also on June 3 at 8 p.m., the Von and Chico Freeman Quintet hits the Raven Theater ($22.50); and on Sunday, June 4, at 1 p.m., the legendary Charles Lloyd Quartet–featuring John Abercrombie (above) and Billy Higgins (and local guitar prodigy Julian Lage)–performs outdoors at Geyser Peak Winery ($22.50). That program also features a Children’s World Music Workshop, led by Tacuma King. Tickets are available at Levin & Co. in Healdsburg or by phone at 433-3615.

From the May 25-31, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Carlo Marchiori

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Art in high places: Carlo Marchiori shows off the ceiling of his gallery in Calistoga.

Living Color

Calistoga artist Carlo Marchiori opens his stunning house to the public

By Shelley Lawrence

INTERNATIONALLY renowned artist Carlo Marchiori has been sought out by such clients as Disney, Donald Trump, and casino mogul Steve Winn. His work has been featured in galleries and museums in nearly every corner of the world. But his mother was never happy with his career choice. She wanted him to be a priest.

“Or a bookkeeper!” Marchiori says with a laugh.

But despite his mother’s wishes, the artist didn’t stick around home for long. Born in 1937 in Bassano del Grappa, near Venice, Marchiori attended art school in Italy from age 15 to 18, and then moved to Canada, where it was easy to obtain citizenship. Since then, he has lived and worked in countries around the world.

A 13-year resident of Calistoga, where he lives in a remarkable house of his own design, Marchiori phased out a second home in San Francisco last June after opening his gallery, Ca’Toga Galleria d’Arte, in Calistoga.

Now, in a rare treat for North Bay art lovers, his Paladian-style villa (which also houses his studio) and grounds will be open to the public on May 20 and 21 as a benefit for the Sharpsteen Museum of Calistoga.

Built in the style of Renaissance Italian architect Andrea Palladui, the interior of the villa is enhanced by Marchiori’s art. Many walls feature huge frescoes filled with mystical gods and monsters, and whole rooms are painted to look like caves or forests.

Like Marchiori’s Ca’Toga gallery, the house is a remarkable monument to his versatile talents. He began his career as a graphic artist in the advertising industry, doing animation and magazine and book illustrations for the Canadian National Film Board. He made his first animated film short in 1967: “The Drag” was an anti-smoking piece that was nominated for an Academy Award.

After leaving Canada, Marchiori spent six years in Japan doing animated television advertisements, then a year and a half in Brazil and a year in New Zealand, arriving in 1979 in San Francisco, where he decided to make his permanent home because he liked the weather. But he found the climate for his work was not so agreeable.

“When I came to San Francisco, I realized that the art world was restricted in the areas of magazine illustration, and to continue in that line [of work] it would have to be in L.A. or New York,” he explains.

Instead of moving, Marchiori switched from animation and commercial design to painting trompe l’oeil, a form of “artistic trickery” related to illusionism, an art that deceives the eye into believing that something painted is actually real.

“I thought I could do it a little better than what was currently out there because I’d apprenticed to do that in Italy,” he says. “I started working with Las Vegas casinos, doing mirages.”

Since then, Marchiori has been commissioned to create many large works, like painting the spa in the Trump Plaza in Atlantic City, the ceiling of the Raffles Hotel in Singapore, and Tokyo’s Yebisu Garden Palace.

Ca’Toga is the artist’s first gallery, which he designed and built after tiring of being interrupted at home by requests to buy his work. The gallery’s exterior reminds one of an Italian plaza, although the building stands alone. It’s painted a faded mustard, with stone plaques carved in Latin.

The 1,300-square-foot gallery features mostly watercolors and hand-thrown ceramic plates and bowls, beautifully painted in browns and blues. One important theme in the artist’s work is the myths of traditional Venetian culture, with the 17th-century Harlequin clown Pulcinella playing a major role. Marchiori’s international influences are expressed in his striking opera plates, one of which shows a Japanese geisha with her mouth wide open, belting out a phrase in Latin.

THE GALLERY ITSELF is something of a work of art, featuring muraled walls with inlaid tile and insets of large sculptures. In the salmon-colored courtyard, aged stonework abounds, and a pillared portico sets the building back from its overlook of the Napa River.

Perhaps the most striking feature is the gallery’s painted ceiling. Arching high above the room, the ceiling mural is a Ptolemiac-style depiction of the heavens, full of allegorical figures of the zodiac, ancient mythical creatures, and representatives of each continent in full-color glory. The ceiling, which is actually 11 canvas panels painted by Marchiori over a four-month span, was inspired by a 16th-century fresco in Villa Farnese in Caprarola, Italy.

In the left corner, Marchiori has painted himself, piloting a boat with his two pet basenjis present (each dog painted larger than the boat). The stone floor shows a pre-Copernicus universe, complete with a full lunar cycle with the earth in the middle, into which is deeply carved the Latin inscription “HIC ES” (You Are Here).

Marchiori painted the ceiling as a “nice punch in the eye, a piece to give an idea of the kind of work that I do.” He placed his favorite piece on the ceiling because “a ‘not for sale’ sign creates disappointment, and nobody’s going to ask to buy my ceiling!”

The villa tour takes place Saturday and Sunday, May 20 and 21. Buses run from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m., departing every 15 minutes from the Sharpsteen Museum, 1311 Washington St., Calistoga. Tickets are $25. For details, call 963-4171 or 963-4171. The Ca’Toga Galleria d’Arte is located at 1206 Cedar St., Calistoga. For details, call 942-3900.

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

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Tape Traders

Photograph by Michael Amsler

Net Gain?

Tape traders find the Internet provides wide world of new musical resources

by Natalie Sibert-Freitas

WHEN I FIRST began trading tapes via the Internet, I felt something like Daffy Duck waiting for his next comic book. There was the anticipation, the arrival, and the final thrill of popping a new cassette into my tape deck, wondering just what aural pleasures would greet me.

OK, so I admit it: I’m addicted to music, can’t help it–it’s in my genes. I’ve made cassettes for friends and parties for years because I love to share good music, having been a college radio DJ. But my musical life changed greatly when I moved to Sonoma County about three years ago. Suddenly I found myself without my old urban resources for hearing underground music.

But my initial motivation for surfing the Net was to find web sites that might link to that of Neosoreskin, the ska band I was managing at the time. I immediately found myself lost in a miasma of information without a clue to how to sort through it all.

It was kind of like walking into a warehouse full of really great goodies but no rhyme or reason to how things were stocked.

Back to square one–go with something I already know: David Bowie. I found fan sites about the man, and his own official site. The first few I checked out had bulletin boards for exchanging ideas about lyrics and how to get concert tickets and all things Bowie. In my searching, I had a few experiences that launched me headfirst into trading tapes.

First, I made contact with a woman from Japan named Tomoko, whose web site is linked to a Bowie page. Looking at her site, I found a few uncanny similarities in our musical tastes. I decided to e-mail her. We soon were communicating regularly and discovered we were about the same age and had similar interests on a variety of levels.

I sent her a Neosoreskin CD. She sent me a tape of some Bowie music and a poster that she’d worked on.

My appetite whetted, I next found myself in a chatroom that was supposed to be dedicated to music. Chatting is an odd thing. My first few experiences were less than thrilling–people talking about their messed-up lives, people looking for cybersex, and others just there to stir things up.

Thankfully, I met a handful of sincere people who were genuinely in the room to discuss music. I quickly discovered that the best way to unearth such folks was to name drop the names of a few of my favorite bands and see who responded. Worked like a charm.

When I mentioned Bowie, old punk-rock bands like the Dead Kennedys, and arty Goth bands like Bauhaus, I discovered there were actually quite a few chatters who did want to talk music. One of my first chat trades was with Frank from New Jersey. Though a big Sinatra buff, he was also interested in new music. So I sent him a Neosoreskin CD and a mixed tape. In return, he sent me a collection of Sinatra and big-band tunes.

Be forewarned: chatting is time consuming, and I had loads of free time when I initially got into it. Making tapes for people can also take up a lot of time, especially if one wants to make a cohesive compilation of a variety of artists.

I’m a nitpicker and won’t send anyone a tape with uneven sound levels or songs that get cut off at the end of one side. I make tapes much as I used to plan my radio shows: pull out far more music than I need and figure it out as I go. When the tape was completed, a trip to the post office was in order since, for example, I’d no clue to how much it costs to ship a tape to England.

The types of recorded material traded over the Internet range from made-at-home compilations and concert bootlegs to out-of-print releases and band demos. Many lesser-known bands thrive on people trading their material just to get heard.

However, copyright issues are not to be taken lightly, as demonstrated by the recent slugfest between Metallica and the online music company Napster. Music publishing companies such as ASCAP or BMI are adept at monitoring public performances of artists who are under their wing, and they take it very seriously when someone sells unlicensed material.

“It’s a [legal] gray area,” says Greg Loescher, editor of Goldmine, a popular record collector’s magazine. “According to the law, if taped for home use or to give to someone, it’s OK. If it’s for a tape exchange, that’s a gray area. Obviously the industry as a whole would rather someone purchased music from a retail source. The danger lies in what the legalities and ramifications of taping are. . . . People think that just because they can tape music it’s OK to use it in any way they see fit.

“Some bands,” Loescher continues, “such as the Grateful Dead, encourage taping at concerts. But it’s tricky if done by other means, shuffling off the Net, etc. We have people who trade using [ads in] our magazine, so it’s not that we’re against it.”

It’s obvious that recording artists and their labels are more focused on the threat posed by the latest trend–MP3s or digital-audio recordings available on the Net.

“The problem is not just trading songs but full albums off the Internet in digital format,” says Ron Rodrigues of Records and Radio. “Control of intellectual property is lost if the sound is as good as on the album.”

As for tape trading, Rodrigues agrees that “it’s not a top concern in the industry. However, taping something for someone else does go against copyright rules.”

Trading Tips: Advice and related websites.

LEGAL QUIBBLES ASIDE, tape trading offers something MP3s do not–the fun of making personal connections around the globe. I’ve traded with people from England, Japan, Australia, Canada, and all over the United States. Of the people I’ve interviewed, most traded internationally as well. Brazil, Germany, Holland, Czechoslovakia, Russia, and Switzerland were mentioned. Additionally, I’ve also found that the United Kingdom is oozing with fellow traders.

Most people I queried have been trading for about two years–some for as long as four years, others for only a couple of months. I’ve traded with people between the ages of 19 and 40. Some of the best tapes have come from college students who are completely immersed in the independent music scene.

One of my favorite tapes came from an advertising student in Toronto named Kevin. He had his own fanzine and sent a very comprehensive tape of Canadian bands. Susan, from Australia, got involved with trading tapes over the Net because of her love of the band Mr. Bungle. Despite a dedicated following in Australia, their material isn’t always so easy to find there. Susan and I share a love of an ’80s Aussie band called Hunters and Collectors, which is what got us chatting originally. I almost dropped my teeth on the floor when she mentioned Mr. Bungle, whose members hail from Arcata.

Tape trading not only fills a musical void; it’s introduced me to interesting people from around the globe. Though I have less time for it these days, I’ll always be trading with someone I’ve connected with. As for copyright worries, I have none. Gray areas work well for someone like me who trades to promote music, not profit from it.

Right now, I’m pulling some music from my collection to tape for a young man in England. How could I resist yet another opportunity to share music I think is wonderful with an attentive audience?

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

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Southern Rock

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Southern Rock Is Gonna Rise Again

By Greg Cahill

IT’S HOG HEAVEN. You can stick your nose up at Southern rock, but the boisterous spirit of that sub-genre is alive and well in this slick, postmodern, tech-geek age. And Konocti Harbor Resort and Spa on the shores of Clear Lake (which is home to some of the most aggressive red ants this side of the Rio Grande) has become a mecca for rowdy rebel-yelling music fans who know how to infuse a rock concert with the over-the-top energy usually reserved for a raging kegger.

This summer is no exception (though I’m sure everyone will be on their best behavior).

The Southern rock season kicks off Friday, May 26, with a stiff shot of the Charlie Daniels Band (featuring every urban cowboy’s favorite on fiddle and plenty of good ol’ hippie boy vibes), plus Lynyrd Skynyrd soundalikes Molly Hatchet.

On June 10, .38 Special, featuring Donnie Van Zant (brother of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s late Ronnie), bring their gut-crunching ’70s rock to the resort.

Singer/songwriter Waylon Jennings, whose outlaw ways inspired the first wave of Southern rock innovators, has had plenty of cards up his sleeve of late. He holds court on Aug. 11.

And the sanctified Allman Brothers Band, the fellows who started it all in 1969 with their twin-lead guitar-driven jams and bluesy sensibility, will show why they’re still the best of the bunch Sept. 3, when they provide the grand finale for the resort’s summerfest.

And that’s worth a rebel yell.

Konocti Harbor is located at 8727 Soda Bay Road, Middletown. For ticket information, call 800/660-LAKE.

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

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Usual Suspects

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Traffic School

SRJC parking a nightmare for some, a cash cow for others

By Duane De Witt

“THEY PAVED paradise to put up a parking lot,” Joni Mitchell once lamented in song. But over at Santa Rosa Junior College the refrain is always the same: “We need more parking.” With nearly 30,000 students, the school has a parking shortage that is a major headache for them and a possible impediment to future growth at the school. Also the problem spills over into the surrounding neighborhoods, annoying business owners and residents more than a mile away.

This summer the school is preparing to cut down a stand of pine trees close to adjacent Santa Rosa High School to add 60 more parking spaces, but critics say that will do little to ease the problem.

“The stand of pines is infested with bugs and needs to be taken out,” says Nancy Morehead, manager of facilities operations, adding that no redwood or oak trees are scheduled for removal to add the extra parking spaces. To accommodate more spaces in the acres and acres of parking lots on campus, the school is also going to be restriping lots to shrink the space size.

According to SRJC Police Chief Terry Stewart, there are 3,300 parking spaces on campus. Of those, 2,500 are for students and 800 for faculty and staff.

But one nearby resident, John Perpinan, says that isn’t enough. He thinks that the school needs to build parking garages on campus to handle the thousands of students who regularly drive to school and clog the local streets, using up limited parking spaces. The problem is complex because the city has made a “residential parking zone” to protect the ability of nearby residents to park by issuing permits to them while limiting everyone else to one-hour parking.

However, Perpinan has had his fill of parking tickets dispensed by the ever-efficient Santa Rosa city parking-control officers who sweep through the residential parking-permit zones around the campus on their daily hunt for offenders. They ticket Perpinan and his family and friends when they overpark the one-hour limit also.

“Homeowners and residents only get two permits,” he says, not enough for a family or guests.

He echoes the sentiment of many who think that the city unfairly exploits the situation for financial gain. Many students have also complained over the years because the permit system around the campus is for only one-hour parking while most classes are two hours long.

“The residential parking zones are only put in place when the neighborhood petitions for them,” says Bill Gallagher, parking programs coordinator for Santa Rosa. He notes that neighbors around the campus have been complaining about parking for decades and that the residential parking permit zones were enacted in the late ’80s to protect the residents.

But Perpinan disagrees, saying the city parking-enforcement program is “extorting” both the students and the residents now in an unfair pursuit of money.

That may be true.

WHILE CITY OFFICIALS claim they don’t have the exact figures on revenue from fines in the campus area, the SRJC residential parking zone is the biggest of the city’s parking zones and garners the largest amount of fines, according to one city worker, who asked not to be named. City accountant Guy Ross says, “For the entire city, the amount of parking fines revenue for 1998-99 was $547,000. For 1999-2000, the year-to-date total is $423,491.”

Perpinan wants to find out just how much money the city is milking from the area. He has been fighting his parking tickets in the court system, saying the fines are unfair because residents were promised exemptions when the zones were enacted. However, a city ordinance regulating the residential permit-parking program states, “A motor vehicle on which is displayed a valid residential parking permit . . . shall be permitted to stand or be parked . . . without being limited by time restrictions. . . . Any vehicle which does not display such a permit shall be subject to the parking regulations and consequent penalties in effect for such area.”

But Perpinan is urging students to fight their tickets, too. He wants the city to change the time limits to two hours and give residents more permits for unlimited parking.

“These zones were supposedly set up to help us residents,” he says, “not to rip us off with parking fines.”

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

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

© Metro Publishing Inc.

‘Where the Heart Is’

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An optimist looks at life, rock-and-roll, ups and down, and the new film Where the Heart Is.

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.

“I want to thank you,” sighs Chris Stewart, turning in his seat to face me, his cheeks wet with tears, his British-accented voice slightly strained from the effort of prolonged sobbing. “Thank you for encouraging me to see this. I thought it was exquisite. I think it’s a masterpiece.”

We’ve just seen Where the Heart Is, starring Natalie Portman.

The enthused and grateful giddiness with which my guest has received this new film–a so-called “chick flick” about the Karmic fortunes of a golden-hearted trailer-trash dreamer named Novalie Nation–can best be explained by pointing out a couple of facts:

One, the movie, contrary to sneering dismissals from Neanderthal critics, is a genuine charmer. There are powerful performances from a solid ensemble cast (including Ashley Judd and Stockard Channing) and a flawed-but-indomitable heroine (Portman) whose spirit of goodness and generosity, as it carries her through everything from bad boyfriends and murderous tornadoes, is nothing short of inspiring.

Fact number two, Where the Heart Is marks the first time Chris Stewart has been inside a movie theater in over 20 years.

A former drummer for the rock group Genesis–he performed on the band’s first album and was then replaced by Phil Collins–Chris Stewart has lived a life every bit as surprising and chance-filled as Novalie Nation’s. After dropping out of the music biz in the early 70s, he became a professional sheep shearer and a some-time writer for Rough Guides, publisher of travel books for economic adventurers. Thirteen years ago, having saved a few thousand pounds, Stewart and his wife Ana bought a little farm in the Alpajurras, a remote region of Spain at the foothills of the Sierra Nevada, where they’ve lived without running water, in relative poverty and “extreme happiness” ever since. Another twist occurred when , on a whim, Stewart agreed to write a book about his life in Spain. Called Driving Over Lemons: An Optimist in Andalucia, it was published in Britain last year, and became an enormous, instant best-seller (a quarter million books and counting), unexpectedly transforming Stewart into a wealthy man.

The American edition, published by Pantheon Books, is on its way to becoming a word-of-mouth hit in the states as well.

Which brings Stewart to Where the Heart Is.

Now on the last legs of a massive book-signing tour, the drummer-turned-farmer-turned-celebrity author–“I feel like a pole-cat in a poodle parlor,” he says–accepted my offer of an afternoon at the movies, and is still reeling from the over-amped stimuli of state-of-the-art stadium seating, cupholders, deafening THX sound system promos, and grossly expensive snacks.

“Where I come from this could feed an entire family,” he notes, hoisting a small bag of popcorn.

“People must be entertained,” allows Stewart, basking in the warm sun after the show, “so art should be entertaining, but an artist can also set out to change the world, to somehow reduce the sum total of human swinishness and human misery.

“And this film has achieved that,” he adds, waving an arm at the theater, “because we were both so inspired by its story. It’s made us want to be like Novalie Nation, to go out and commit some decent act in the middle of our otherwise rotten miserable lives.”

Though anything but rotten and miserable, the extremely well-liked Stewart–a committed environmentalist who has successfully introduced the notion of organic farming to his fellow farmers–argues that environmentalism is not the greatest of virtues.

“Being environmentally friendly is very easy to do,” he says. “To leave our farm in a better state than we happen to have found it is a black and white matter. No trouble at all.

“What’s difficult,” he chuckles, “is dealing with other people as you should do.”

We pause to watch observe a one-footed blackbird, until now quietly snatching crumbs from the sidewalk, attempting to defend himself against a noisy attack from a marauding two-footed black-beaked bullies.

“Birds are like that, you know,” he remarks. “You shouldn’t learn messages from nature, because nature is a bitch. Nature is fascism at its purest. No deviations are tolerated. You can’t run the world like nature unless you want to run a fascist dictatorial society.

“I talk about nature as if it were the enemy, and yet I live in the middle of it in Spain. But nature is the enemy. Nature is the beast that stops your vegetables from growing by putting slugs and caterpillars and diseases and fungi and God knows what else.

“Nature fights you at every turn.”

Musing on the twists and turns of his own life, Stewart takes a characteristically optimistic view. He claims no bitterness at having just missed mega stardom as a rock-and-roller.

“I sort of know what my life would have been like had I remained with Genesis,” he says, “and I think I’ve had the better life. I think about it a little, now and then. Those fellows have had wonderful lives, certainly, but I’ve had the opportunity to take advantage of twists and turns that they’ve never been able to take. Those decisions we made so long have lead me into a different part of the maze. And it’s been a life of great contentment.”

In the film, Novalie says, ‘You’re whole life can change with a single breath,” and every change brings pain, new opportunities–and more change.

Stewart’s own twists and turns are far from over.

“I learned a couple of months ago that they ‘re going to build a long-delayed dam in our valley,” he reveals. “It won’t flood the valley but it will raise the river, possibly within the next five years.

“Here I’m using expensive organic fertilizers,” he laughs, “taking great care with the land in every way. And now it looks like it’s going to be buried under the bed of river in a few years time.

“It’s wonderfully ironic, isn’t it?”

Stewart knows that even this tragedy will bring new twists and turns, good and bad, to his own remarkable story.

“As my publisher said to me,” says Stewart, “when I told him about the dam, ‘Well, that’s the most awful thing I’ve ever heard. It’s so terribly sad. But there may be another book in it.'”

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

© Metro Publishing Inc.

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An optimist looks at life, rock-and-roll, ups and down, and the new film Where the Heart Is. 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...
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