Planned Communities

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One alternative: Michael Black, an architect by trade, helped initiate Two Acre Wood, an intentional housing development that opened last August in Sebastopol. The project, says Black, is based on sound humanistic principles.

A Different Path

Intentional communities gain a foothold

By Yosha Bourgea

MICHAEL BLACK is not a guru, but he looks like one. From the Taj Mahal gleam of his bare scalp to his attentive gaze and calm, well-considered speech, his appearance evokes a sense of harmony that is reflected everywhere in his self-designed home near downtown Sebastopol.

A wide arch above a counter defines the boundary between kitchen and living room without the presence of a wall. Around the perimeter of the main space, a row of small, square windows above eye level brings in daylight without sacrificing privacy.

Behind the house, a redwood deck leads out to a hot tub. And from the front door, a paved footpath leading down a slope connects to the other homes in the new intentional community of Two Acre Wood.

The only flaw in this otherwise serene picture is one that Black, an architect, did not design. Just a few yards up the hill, on the other side of a low fence that marks the edge of the lot, a row of identical beige houses rises like a wall above the oak trees. This is Stefenoni Court, a conventional housing subdivision that dominates the western horizon.

The tenants of Two Acre Wood began moving in last August, and already the community has seen the death of a dog and the birth of a child. Despite a storm of protest from neighbors concerned about the impact of traffic on their quiet road, Black, the initiator and designer of Two Acre Wood, succeeded in persuading the Sebastopol City Council to approve the zoning for the site.

Now the community of 25 adults and nine children is working to establish positive relationships, both internally and in the greater neighborhood. There also are plans, Black says, to plant vines along the western fence to block the view of the subdivision next door.

But there’s no concealing the fact that, like all intentional communities, Two Acre Wood is still an exception–an island in a sea of tract housing.

THE ORIGINS of the term “intentional community” can be traced to circa 1950, according to the website of the Fellowship for Intentional Community. Definitions are as abundant and diverse as the people who live in places like Two Acre Wood, or Monan’s Rill in eastern Santa Rosa, or the Sowing Circle west of Occidental.

While most agree that an intentional community consists of a group of people sharing land or housing in a cooperative spirit, there are myriad ways that such a group can be structured. From private would-be utopias and religious enclaves to public-service-oriented groups and co-housing developments, the movement toward intentional community is growing.

The FIC website lists almost 100 such communities in California alone–and those are only the ones that requested to be on the list.

The site estimates that there are several thousand others throughout the country.

For those unfamiliar with contemporary intentional communities, the image of a hippie-laden commune is often the first to come to mind. Communitarians do tend to be left of center politically, and some have roots in the counterculture of the ’60s and ’70s; Black’s wife, Alexandra Hart, was a founding member of the controversial Morningstar Ranch in Graton. But the raucous, laissez-faire ambiance of such places has proven difficult to sustain, particularly from a financial standpoint.

The rallying cry at the now-defunct Wheeler Ranch commune was “No Rules!” But today, few of the people who can afford to invest in home ownership in Sonoma County would be willing to chant that particular mantra.

ALTHOUGH A SHARED ethos is central to most intentional communities, another factor drawing many people to consider participation is the economic advantage of community living. “What you tend to see more of around this area is highly enlightened real estate deals,” says Mary DeDanan, one of a group of people working to establish a small intentional community near Jenner.

“If you look at what median housing goes for versus what we’re offering, it’s pretty affordable.”

Prospective members of Wild Iris Ranch, must pay a $1,000 nonrefundable “earnest money” fee to show the seriousness of their commitment to join. That fee is part of the down payment, which is $15,000 for a single member and $20,000 for a couple. At buy-in, the membership is $105,000 (including the down payment), with monthly mortgage payments expected to average $900.

Compare that to the conventional market, where the median resale price last year hovered around $255,000 for a house or $140,000 for a condominium, and intentional community starts looking like a pretty smart idea. Of course, not everyone would be comfortable with the cozy living situation at Wild Iris Ranch.

“We’re taking the housemate concept to the nth degree,” DeDanan says. “A lot of people don’t want that.”

To comply with rural zoning laws, which allow just one house plus a granny unit per 40 acres, DeDanan and fellow core-group members Marcin Whitman and Chris Carpenter are designing a community that is a hybrid of co-housing and shared housing.

In addition to a single-bedroom granny unit that is already finished, the group plans to build a large structure, incorporating three to four separate bedrooms, around a common living space. Because the building will have only one kitchen, it can be legally defined as a single house.

“People want their own little piece of property,” DeDanan says. “[But] the individualistic model, with 50 little houses each with their own washer and dryer . . . the planet can’t sustain this kind of stuff.”

Michael Black agrees. “We’re founded on humanistic and ecological principles,” he says. “We live closer, more modestly, to not use up the surface of the planet for housing.

“We should not live isolated lives.”

IRONICALLY, many intentional communities find it necessary to isolate themselves from mainstream society in some way, if only to preserve their sense of integrity. Some are cautious about revealing their location or welcoming visitors who are not familiar with the priorities of the group. Concern over the possible impact of this article on a precarious relationship with neighbors also led one community member to request “vague” descriptions.

Monan’s Rill, one of the most firmly established intentional communities in Sonoma County, has survived (and thrived) for a quarter of a century by protecting the privacy of its residents.

“When we first came here 25 years ago we were a little overwhelmed, and we tried not to have too much notice paid to us,” says Russ Jorgensen, one of the founding members.

“Now that we’re a mature group and more stable, we don’t mind having visitors when we can be helpful.”

Still, when an unknown reporter requests a visit, Jorgensen says he’ll need to talk it over with the other residents at a general meeting before he can give a definite answer. Like many intentional communities, Monan’s Rill governs by consensus, a process that is less impersonal but more time-consuming than majority rule.

The need of the community to deliberate openly is crucial, an outsider’s deadline notwithstanding.

“There’s a stance of using consensus that is inherent in co-housing,” says Black of Two-Acre Wood. “It’s not about the power of the majority.”

A common problem within intentional communities concerns the division between private and public space, and the balance between individual freedom and community standards. As a new community, Two Acre Wood is just beginning to address some of these issues. Some residents, Black says, consider their front porches private space and use them for storage. Others see this as a disruption of the neighborhood’s unified look. But as with any other conflict, a resolution will come when all the neighbors sit in a circle, speaking honestly to one another and listening with respect.

“Consensus is the glue that holds us together,” Black says.

New College of Santa Rosa (99 Sixth St.) will host “Finding and Financing an Intentional Community,” a forum introducing the skills needed to start a co-housing project, on Saturday, Feb. 12, from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. The cost is $100. Call 568-0112. Meanwhile, a new co-housing group is enlisting participants for a planned community in downtown Cotati. For details, call Geof Syphers at 510/891-0446.

From the February 10-16, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Botanica Erotica

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Evangelists of eroticism: Dae Williams and Diana DeLuca.

Natural Urges

Founders of Botanica Erotica preach healing power of pleasure

DIANA DELUCA and Dae Williams are on a mission from God. Or Goddess. Or both, depending on one’s point of view. Their calling–and to hear the Sebastopol women talk, it’s clear that this is a calling–is to spread the simple but unexpected message that pleasure heals. “We’re telling people,” says Williams, “that pleasure is good, that when you are experiencing pleasure, it heals your body–and it also heals the planet.”

“A lot of people need to be given permission to enjoy their bodies,” says DeLuca, who adds a potent, practical piece of advice that she is glad to share with others.

“If your mouth waters,” she says, “or if your nipples get hard, know that it’s your body telling you, ‘This is good!’

“Of course,” she adds with a matter-of-fact smile, “this goes for men as well as women.”

DeLuca (a local teacher, writer, and herbalist) and Williams (a licensed aesthetician and co-owner, with her sister Gina Williams and Andrea Spanzo, of Sebastopol’s happily hedonistic Sensuality Shoppe boutique) are the brains and spirits behind Botanica Erotica, a one-of-a-kind line of all-natural, handcrafted, mostly edible, aphrodisiac balms and lotions intended to enhance the sensual experience of our own and others’ bodies.

These “erotic botanicals” bear enticingly playful names like Bawdy Budder (edible spreads that come in a choice of flavors, including dark chocolate, white chocolate-almond-orange, and chocolate-tangerine) and Love Balm (exotically flavored lovemaking “lubricants” made from natural coconut oil and other organic ingredients). Along with such intriguingly titled offerings as Lust Dust, Love Licks, and Aphrodisiac Love Elixirs, the Botanica Erotica products–based on recipes that DeLuca has been sharing for years now in her phenomenally popular herbal sensuality workshops–have officially been on the market since 1998, granting grateful consumers’ previously unanswered wish for healthful erotic delights.

“A lot of folks really care about what they put into their bodies, and they care about what they put on their bodies,” explains Williams, sitting with DeLuca in the resplendent surroundings of the Sensuality Shoppe, one of several Bay Area stores that now carry Botanica Erotica products. “Women would tell us, ‘You know, we grow our own vegetables. We buy all-organic foods. We only want good yummy things for all bodies–but there’s nothing out there with all-natural erotic products.’ And it was true. I wanted to create an alternative to that.”

At that point, Williams was already successfully blending and marketing a line of all-natural face- and body-care products under the name Rejuvenescence, later changed to Sensuous Beauty. A fortuitous crossing of paths occurred, and she joined forces with DeLuca, who, it turns out, taught a workshop in the early ’90s that was Williams’ first inspiration to go into the organic beauty-product business.

Working in a large, festively decorated space out in the country (“Imagine the most awesome restaurant kitchen you’ve ever seen,” suggests Williams), the dynamic duo manufacture and package all the products with their own hands–and those of a growing sisterhood of gleefully hedonistic helpers.

“Concocting is always fun,” says DeLuca. “To say that we enjoy our work is an understatement.”

As proof of the dynamic duo’s spiritual intentions, every jar and bottle of Botanica Erotica comes inscribed with the phrase “Pleasure Heals.”

Buy the Book: Botanica Erotica founder Diana DeLuca’s book, Botanica Erotica: Arousing Body, Mind, and Spirit.

WHILE MANY of the products arise from experimentation and “happy accidents,” and some are based on, as Williams puts it, “yummy things we started making for ourselves and our loved ones,” a number of Botanica Erotica products evolve from suggestions offered by customers. Among the most popular of these is the Nether Petal Pomade, a “sacred” moisturizer otherwise known as Yoni Lip Balm.

“It can serve as a lubricant, but we already had lubricants,” says Williams.

The Beautiful Breast Balm, one of Williams’ own creations, is another invention that seems to be flying off shelves, tapping further into that need for sensual anointments. “It’s not just some lotion to slap on your body before you throw on your clothes,” Williams says. “There’s intention there. You warm your hands and massage it into your breasts, and you have to be conscious about that. It’s about loving your body.”

“Then there’s our Pleasuring Cream for Men,” DeLuca offers.

“I can’t tell you what a big deal that product is,” Williams says with a grin. “It’s like giving permission to men to masturbate. Men pick this up and look at it and go, ‘Wow!’ They see it’s out in the open, it’s being honored. ‘I can have my own little jar of cream just for that purpose?’ It’s about giving permission to pleasure yourself.

“Let’s face it, it’s a pretty natural instinct.”

And natural instincts are what DeLuca and Williams are all about. As the proprietors of Botanica Erotica, they’ve become reigning evangelists of eroticism, the high priestesses of pleasure, the patron saints of sensuality–and they love it.

“What better way could you have for being in the world,” preaches DeLuca, “than to have a lot of pleasure and to create a lot of pleasure for other people, so it comes right back around to you and you get to have even more pleasure.”

Adds Williams, “It’s a really good business to be in.”

And business is good.

AFTER BUILDING a significant local base of clientele through word of mouth and a handful of product placements in natural-food and beauty stores, Williams and DeLuca recently floated a few high-profile test cruises into the turbulent waters of national advertising, taking out a display ad in Herb Companion magazine. The response, according to Williams, was overwhelming.

“We heard from women all over the country, including places like Texas and Alabama,” she says with a laugh. “Then, after sending out the orders, we began to get these amazing calls. Women from all over saying, ‘The most beautiful thing is happening. I’m falling in love with myself just by putting this stuff on.’ ”

“They’ll say, ‘My husband and I sat down and went through the whole catalog, and we’ve decided on these two. What do you think?’ ” relates DeLuca, happily. “And you know they spent an hour together just letting themselves become all tantalized.”

Says Williams, “Every time we send one of our little packages across the country, we say, ‘Well, the scale’s going to tip a little bit more in this direction. Here comes another person over to the pleasure side.’ ”

From the February 10-16, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Sex Tips

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Operating instructions for the sexually challenged

AS ANYONE who pays attention to the news–and to politics in particular–must surely be aware, there are certain nefarious forces afoot these days that claim, quite loudly and vociferously, that the institution of marriage, if not exactly being faced with imminent extinction, is surely being seriously threatened.

While one might agree that marriage–the spiritual union of any two loving and committed souls–is not always what it should be, one could strongly disagree with the solution proposed by these political troublemakers: namely, that the legal definition of marriage be confined to couples of separate genders (i.e., one man, one woman).

This solution will never save marriage. It will only limit it to the group of people who, all on their own, have managed to push divorce rates so high that modern marriages have a mere 50/50 chance of lasting. The real threats to marriage are such things as husbands who sleep with women other than their wives, and such things as prenuptial contracts and social pressures that force young people into unhappy shotgun liaisons merely because someone got too frisky to use a condom.

Then there’s the No. 1 threat to modern marriage: boring sex.

As the great philosopher/comic Phyllis Diller once said, “Marriages are pretty much like apples on a tree. They’ll go bad if someone’s not plucking the fruit now and then.”

With this in mind, here’s a short list of Valentine’s Day gifts, specially designed to add a little spice to any couple’s bedroom. For best results, however, it is suggested that these helpful books, games, and the like be employed regularly throughout the year, not just on Valentine’s Day or wedding anniversaries.

101 Great Quickies by Laura Corn is a novel twist on the standard sex guides that fill bookstore shelves. The pages of this book are actually sealed envelopes, 101 of them, each containing a separate suggestion for a short, spicy commingling. With such curiosity-provoking titles as “Delicious Torture” and “Lickity Splits,” the possibilities are obvious.

The Sensuality Shoppe, in Sebastopol, is a treasure trove of potential marriage-enhancers, from negligees and silk boxer shorts to Botanica Erotica organic massage oils, edible lotions (see “Natural Urges,” page 16) and, er, toys. Among the most ingenious and psychologically satisfying offerings are an array of bedroom board games, with titles like “ForePlay” and “Speak Love/Make Love,” specifically created to strengthen the bond between lovers as they get certain juices flowing. A good one is “Romantic Rendezvous,” a game of love, intimacy, and adventure, in which the two players toss their dice and move around a board, stopping on squares with pointed suggestions–from kisses to declarations of love to, well, you get the idea–that must be acted on immediately before play resumes. The nice thing about these games, of course, is that everyone wins.

For a more cerebral approach, may we suggest some good steamy poetry. The Love Poems of Rumi, translated by Deepak Chopra, offers some of the most tantalizing words of love ever crafted in any language. For a more modern touch, Diane Ackerman’s collection of poems The Jaguar of Sweet Laughter includes some of the most heart-rate-accelerating poems in recent memory.

InterCourses: An Aphrodisiac Cookbook, by Martha Hopkins and Randall Lockridge, is perfect for the couple that feels the urge to cook together. Beautifully illustrated, the book reveals such tantalizing treats as grapes rolled in almonds and ginger and Thai chicken with peanut sauce, recipes in which the preparation is as stimulating and the, um, consummation.

Who knows, with such relationship enhancers as these, even Newt Gingrich might have stayed married. May he have better luck with his next partner, whoever she–or he–might be.

From the February 10-16, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

‘Amadeus,’ ‘La Cage aux Folles’

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Amadeus.

Music Makers

Two theatrical productions strike high notes

By Daedalus Howell

CURSE the ephemeral nature of live theater! Though it will be gone from the stage in just a few weeks, Sonoma County Repertory’s production of playwright Peter Shaffer’s Amadeus should be bottled and shared with the generations.

Expertly directed by Jim DePriest, Shaffer’s masterpiece is based on real-life speculation that 18th-century composer Antonio Salieri hastened the demise of his prodigiously talented rival Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

As a young man, Salieri (John Moran) wants nothing more than to be a composer and eventually finds patronage with Emperor Joseph II (played here by a comically superb Gerald Haston). But when the vainglorious Mozart (Ben Stowe) sashays into the Viennese court, the maestro’s perspective sours. As he recounts, “Was it so early that I began to have thoughts of murder?”

In a profound turn in his career on local stages, Moran offers a pitch- perfect portrayal of the court composer–a man whose artistic envy is so dark that he launches a one-man hate campaign against God.

To say Moran does his usual laudable best here would be an insult to this performance. For the duration of this show, the man simply is Salieri in all his wit, whimsy, and wretchedness. Moran’s performance of the famed “mediocrity” speech is both exquisite and harrowing as the character realizes that his work, unlike Mozart’s, was of its time, but not timeless.

Fans of the Academy Award-winning film version of Shaffer’s play may liken some of Stowe’s stage-borne antics to those originated by actor Tom Hulce (namely, the signature giggle), but the young actor is ultimately successful in finding his own voice for Shaffer’s text.

Though its length may have playgoers of lesser stamina hearing lullabies, in the end, SCR’s Amadeus is music to the ears.

THE SANTA ROSA PLAYERS’ production of the gender-bending chestnut La Cage aux Folles isn’t all a drag. Directed by Bob Rom, this saucy send-up of sugar and spice and all things vice is set at a French cabaret famed for its female impersonators.

Alpha-she-male Albin (Vance Smallwood), all mascara and moxie, turns in the performance of his life posing as the mother of his gay lover’s grown son when the young man brings home his conservative future father-in-law.

An avalanche of mini-disasters ensues (both in the plot and onstage), but the show makes up for its lack of polish with a handful of rousing song-and-dance numbers. Thank its gaggle of Gagelles (the faux broad-squad that works as sort of a Greek chorus throughout the show). The energy these boys muster is simply atomic.

Though their va-va-voom isn’t always the pinnacle of grace–some of the femmed-up fellas look like piano movers despite their clean-shaven bodies–they invariably land on their feet. At times one may wish this production was simply a revue of its estimable musical portion, since many of the acted segues are ham-handed or even inaudible. But the cast excels with the acrobatic dance routines cooked up by choreographer Anthony Gianchetta and can carry a tune when backed by the tight five-piece orchestra led by talented young keyboardist Paul Stroba.

Like La Cage‘s signature tune, “We Are What We Are,” this production is what it is–a light, frivolous spectacle.

‘Amadeus’ plays Thursdays-Saturdays at 8 p.m. and Sundays, Feb. 13 and 20, at 2 p.m. through March 4, at the Sonoma County Repertory Theatre, 415 Humboldt St., Santa Rosa. $10-$15. 544-7278.

‘La Cage aux Folles’ plays Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m. and Sundays at 2 p.m. through March 5 at the Lincoln Arts Center, 709 Davis St., Santa Rosa. $11-$13. 544-7827.

From the February 10-16, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Murphy’s Irish Pub

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Seasonal spirits: Larry Murphy keeps the ale–and the good times–flowing at Murphy’s Irish Pub in Sonoma.

Suds ‘n’ Grub

Murphy’s Irish Pub: a casual hangout with lots of lively atmosphere

By Paula Harris

IT’S A DRIZZLY DARK night in downtown Sonoma. For once, the historic plaza is quiet and seems almost empty. We amble down one of the narrow cobblestone alleyways. The cheery sound of singing and pulsating Cajun accordion music is emanating from one building. We find that the noise is flowing from the former dining room of Babette’s Restaurant, which closed last year. No signs of the upscale, ultra-expensive French eatery remain–Murphy’s Irish Pub, formerly located on the opposite side of the alley, has moved into the site lock, stock, and (beer) barrel.

Babette’s once swanky “red room” (a romantic dining room decorated with velvet, brocade, and white linen, where the well-heeled dined on such delicacies as foie gras with white nectarines) is now a basic wood-paneled area serving no-nonsense pub grub.

The pub itself (also with dining tables) is separated inside by a corridor and outside by a charming facade of a little Irish street with three false front doors, complete with brass knockers and little windows bedecked with lace curtains. The jaunty music and neon signs glowing warmly in the windows lure us inside. There, the Frères Chapeaux, two fun-loving fellas in checkered shirts and felt hats, are gyrating in one corner. They’re belting out Cajun, Creole, and zydeco songs and accompanying themselves with a squeezebox and a fiddle.

They’ve just finished loudly performing something called “C’est la Vie.” Grinning pub-goers are applauding and raising their pints in approval. “Bet Chuck Berry never thought that song could be done by an accordion player,” declares the frère with the squeezebox. “Or by you,” dryly quips the frère with the fiddle.

According to Murphy’s calendar of events, live music is an ongoing fixture at the alehouse four nights a week. Everything from traditional Irish and contemporary Celtic to folk and blues. There are also periodic team Trivia Quiz Nights and Literary Nights, when local actors read and perform selections from famous Irish playwrights like James Joyce and George Bernard Shaw.

There will likely be plenty of St. Paddy’s Day celebrations.

And, yes, families are welcome.

IN THIS COMFORTABLE, informal atmosphere we settle right in, sliding into old wooden bench seats at a particularly antique-looking table with a slightly scarred marble top. The decor consists mainly of family photos on the walls and ledges lined with empty beer bottles.

Of course the beer is the big draw. Murphy’s offers a variety of suds ($4 an imperial pint, $2.50 a glass), including Guinness Stout, Murphy’s Irish Stout, and Harp Lager from Ireland. Additionally, the bartenders pour Bass Ale, Bitburger Pilsner, Fuller’s E.S.B., Gordon Biersch Marzen, Red Tail Ale, Young’s Special London Ale, and Bellhaven Scottish Ale. Hard cider, a small selection of wines, and soft drinks are also available.

But don’t overlook the food. Many of the items are homemade and, though not fancy, make hearty accompaniments. For instance, garlic chips ($4) and popcorn chicken ($4), both served atop greaseproof paper on a plastic tray, make good beer buddies.

The chunky French fries are hot, slightly greasy, and golden-crisp with tender middles and are sprinkled with salty, garlicky flecks. The supergenerous portion of popcorn chicken is enough for four! The deep-fried pieces of chicken breast (served with ranch dressing) are hot and crunchy with an unexpected spicy afterbite.

A housemade soup ($4 a bowl, $2.75 a cup) this night is a wintry white bean and vegetable. Thick and hearty and served with housemade raisin-studded Irish soda bread, it warms and comforts.

We aren’t too impressed by two stew dishes: a vegetable mixture of broccoli, carrots, potatoes, cabbage, celery, and barley ($6.50); and a classic Irish lamb stew with cabbage, carrots and potatoes ($7.50). The veggie version has a very watery sauce. And the Irish stew (although boasting a few tasty tender pieces of lamb) lacks depth of flavor and would be improved with a less glutinous sauce.

The best entrée in our book is the piping-hot shepherd’s pie ($9.50), with its seasoned ground beef and vegetables baked with a delicious topping of smooth mashed potatoes and mild cheese, which is heated under the grill to crisp the potato topping and melt the cheese. Very satisfying, especially with a glass of Kenwood merlot ($5). Most items are served with a choice of side dishes, including mushy peas (to which you might add salt, pepper, and malt vinegar for extra ooomph).

Murphy’s offers one dessert: a sourdough bread pudding ($4). It’s a heavy plateful served with caramel and Jameson whisky sauce.

You’ll likely leave the establishment with a warm glow–not just from a bellyful of carbs, but from an enjoyable casual evening spent in the lively, hospitable environment of an authentic Irish pub.

Murphy’s Irish Pub Address: 464 First St. E., Sonoma; 935-0660 Hours: Sunday-Thursday, 11 a.m. to 11 p.m.; Friday and Saturday, 11 a.m. to 12 midnight Food: Pub grub includes many housemade items Service: Friendly, chatty Ambiance: Casual, frequently with live music; families welcome Price: Inexpensive to moderately inexpensive Wine list: Small selection since most patrons drink beer or cider Overall: 2 stars (out of 4) for the food; 3 stars for the atmosphere

From the February 10-16, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Douglas Coupland

Road rules: Gen X author Douglas Coupland may be tired of talking about his new book, Miss Wyoming, but the critics aren’t–the novel is being hailed by some as a signpost of maturity in Coupland’s unorthodox writing career.

The Ride Stuff

A short, strange trip with Gen X author and tired traveler Douglas Coupland

IT IS A DECIDEDLY low-energy Douglas Coupland who crouches at the curb in front of his San Francisco hotel. Bearing the weight of too many early mornings after too many long nights, he peers into the open doorway of an ultra-sleek black stretch limousine. As he contem-plates the vehicle’s cavernous interior, his face is a sloppy mix of sleep deprivation and mild embarrassment.

“Um, omigod,” he finally proclaims.

Generously arranged for by Coupland’s publisher, the imposing limo has been sent to transport the mild-mannered reluctant icon (author of Generation X, Shampoo Planet, and Microserfs) to the airport, where he’ll catch a flight to Seattle for another full day of interviews. With an audible sigh, Coupland clambers in and takes a seat, making room for me.

“Suddenly this feels really silly,” confesses my host, as the uniformed driver securely shuts the door behind us.

“I feel like we’re on our way to the senior prom or something,” says Coupland, peering through the tinted windows as we sail away from the sidewalk. “I feel like I should have brought you a corsage.”

Coupland, 38, a native of Vancouver, Canada, is currently finishing up a months-long book tour to promote his latest uncategorizable opus, Miss Wyoming (Pantheon Books; $23), the comic-tragic tale of two Hollywood players, one a seasoned producer of direct-to-airlines cinematic schlock and the other an emotionally wounded B-level starlet who was once a child beauty-pageant queen.

Taking advantage of strange twists of fate–he suffers a mystical near-death experience, while she is believed to have disintegrated in an airplane crash–they each drop out of their former lives, disappearing from the world’s cultural radar. The central story is about what happens after they reappear and accidentally merge into each other’s lives.

Short Cuts: An excerpt from ‘Miss Wyoming’ by Douglas Coupland.

Critics are divided over this latest offering, just as they have been since Coupland trampolined into the mainstream with 1991’s phenomenon-sparking, bestselling novel Generation X, the bible of the slacker generation. Yet the new book is widely recognized as the work of an increasingly confident (dare we say mature?) writer of idiosyncratic yet genuinely compelling fiction.

Which brings him to the West Coast, where he’s spent the last few days schlepping from bookstore to bookstore. He was hoping for a little free time to, you know, catch a movie or something, but no such luck for Coupland, who’s been receiving a surprising amount of media attention for a guy some critics wrote off years ago.

At the moment, though, Coupland wouldn’t mind a tiny bit less attention.

“I’m so tired of talking about my book,” he confesses, as our 35-minute ride begins. In demonstration of this point, he feigns snoring. “Promise me you won’t ask me anything about the book.”

“Well,” I think to myself, “although I understand how repetitious such book-hawking interviews can become, I nevertheless am a professional–as are you–and feel that I must ask you a number of precisely planned questions specifically focused on your latest novel.”

But what I say is “OK, I promise not to ask anything about the book.”

Fortunately, Douglas Coupland is the kind of author who has a lot on his mind and needs very little prompting to divulge it. In fact, the man who claims to have become an author only by accident–his book jacket lists his occupation as “designer and sculptor,” a reference to his art-school education and favorite hobby–seems to have something amusing to say on almost every subject.

He talks about movies–“1999 was just the best movie year. In the old days you would go to a movie and know everything that’s going to happen, but nowadays you go to a movie and you never know what’s going on.” And he talks about the mental habits of overly verbal people–“Even as I say these words to you, I’m seeing the words before me, like on a TelePrompter. The only time I don’t see them is when I’m sculpting”–and about the problem of Prince Charles’ face. But more on that later.

“‘Kssssshkk. This is your captain speaking,'” Coupland intones, skillfully rendering an echoey impression of airplane intercom blather. “‘Tonight’s in-flight movie will be . . . ksssshhkk . . . Sister Act 2.'”

Which brings up another of Coupland’s favorite subjects: airline flight.

“For this one-year-and-a-half window, Sister Act 2 was like this spawn from Hell that followed me on every flight I took anywhere in the world,” he complains. “The current spawn from hell is Kevin Costner and Kelly Preston in For Love of the Game. ‘Kssssshkk. Tonight’s in-flight movie will be For Love of the Game with Kevin Costner and Kelly kssssshkk Preston.’ I’ve seen it so many times I know it by heart.”

Coupland’s corner: The author wearily contemplates the next interview.

THERE IS, in fact, just such a reference in Miss Wyoming. When the movie producer character plunges into his near-death experience, the doctor who attempts to resuscitate him gripes about the in-flight omnipresence of the filmmaker’s latest film, The Other Side of Hate, of which the doctor says, “They might as well have shipped the dailies directly up to the Boeing factory.”

“Perhaps,” I wonder, “if I mention this correlation, he’ll accidentally say something about the book.”

I boldly give it a try.

“Mmmmm,” Coupland acknowledges, nodding–then offers an entirely different observation about flying.

“I sat next to Josh Brolin once on an airplane,” he says. “It’s a rule of airline flight: you never get to sit next to Jody Foster or someone cool. It’s always like, ‘Excuse me. Are you Suzanne Pleshette?'”

The airport looms in the distance.

As a last-ditch effort, I ask Coupland to name the best or worst question he’s been asked during the tour.

“Well, there have been a lot of really good ones,” he muses.

“Bingo,” I think, envisioning some penetrating query from one of Coupland’s hyperintelligent fans.

“The best question,” he reveals, “was probably ‘How do you feel about genetically modified food?’ ”

Come again?

“It’s a big deal in Canada,” he grins. Then, following some hairpin tangent that takes my breath away, Coupland is suddenly reminded of . . . Prince Charles.

“See, someday Prince Charles is going to be on our money and our postage stamps, and we’re all really dreading this. As long as he was married to Diana it was ‘Well, at least we might have an attractive person on our money.’ Then they got divorced and we all went, ‘Fuck. Now our money’s going to look like shit for decades.'”

As the limousine arrives at the terminal, gliding up to the white curb, Coupland adds, “The ironic thing is that Charles is this big anti-genetically-modified-foods person.”

And so our journey ends. As the driver unloads Coupland’s luggage, he stands up in the early afternoon sunshine.

“This was fun,” he says, meaning it. “Let’s do this again on my next tour.”

And with a handshake and a final spirited yawn, Douglas Coupland vanishes through the double doors of the terminal. I climb back in the limo for the return trip, thinking, “Well, at least he’s a funny guy. And I did like his book, even though he wouldn’t talk about it. Next tour? It’s a date.”

Next time, though, I want a corsage.

From the February 10-16, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Bruce Cockburn

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Personal Touch

Folk-rocker Bruce Cockburn’s other side

By Alan Sculley

LIKE MANY ARTISTS whose music sometimes contains a topical thread, Bruce Cockburn has often seen his songs divided into two distinct camps–the ones that are political and the tunes that are personal in nature. To Cockburn, that sort of categorization misses the major point behind his music.

“They’re all the same,” Cockburn says of his songs. “They all come from the same place. I understand the convenience of that distinction between the personal and the political song, but for me there’s no distinction. When I address an issue, for want of a better way to say it, it’s because that issue has touched me in some way and aroused an emotional response that produces a song. The same thing is true of songs about personal growth or spiritual things or sex or stupid things people do.

“The political songs, although some people may not see them this way, to me are not manifestos or anything,” he said. “They’re attempts to share my feelings about something with people. The something may be an issue people have not been aware of before or maybe one that everybody’s out of their minds [about]. But this is how it touched me.”

Having released his 25th CD last year, Breakfast in New Orleans, Dinner inTimbuktu (Ryko), the Toronto-based Cockburn has certainly covered extensive territory within his music in the 30 years since he released his first album.

As he suggests, Cockburn, 54, has written his share of intensely personal songs. Since he’s a Christian, spirituality has been a recurring, if often subtle, theme.

Cockburn, of course, has also written his share of pointedly political material. In fact, one of his biggest hits in the United States, the 1985 song “If I Had a Rocket Launcher,” was triggered by his travels to Guatemala, where he witnessed firsthand the horrors of civil war in that Central American country. He recently performed at the Luther Burbank Center–where he returns next week–with Emmy Lou Harris, Steve Earle, and others at a Landmine-Free World benefit concert, and his 1997 CD Charity of the Night featured a track, “Mines in Mozambique,” about how that country is one of the most heavily mined regions on the globe.

Cockburn has no problem with people who don’t care to tune in when he writes about political or social events. Of course, he will point out that even though the problems of Guatemala or Mozambique may seem far removed from the lives people lead in the United States or Canada, such events have more impact than many people realize.

“People are busy. Not everybody has the energy or the inclination to look very far beyond their immediate concerns,” he says.

“But the fact is that what goes on in every part of the world affects every other part of the world. And while people may not choose to notice it or may be uncomfortable noticing it, a war in Central America has led to the existence of garment sweatshops in Central America, which is taking work away from U.S. garment workers, for instance. It comes home.

“Everything comes home.”

Breakfast in New Orleans, Dinner in Timbuktu is the latest example of Cockburn’s political involvement filtering into his music. Many critics have called it one of the most personal CDs of Cockburn’s career. Possibly the most overtly political tune on Breakfast is “Let the Bad Air Out,” a rather humorous half-sung, half-rapped rant about government corruption.

BUT COCKBURN says the latest CD was flavored by yet another of his fact-finding journeys. In 1998 he was invited to participate in the making of a documentary on the efforts of people in Mali in West Africa to reverse the effects of desertification.

“The issue of desertification is aggravated in Mali because of its proximity to the Sahara,” Cockburn explains, noting that Mali borders that famous desert. “My role in the film is just to kind of be the eyes of the North American, basically, looking at how people live, particularly with respect to the issue of desertification. It’s a problem in a lot of places, but very obviously so in Mali.

“We ended up with a pretty good little film, I think.”

The new CD bears many of the stylistic and sonic trademarks of Cockburn’s work. Though a bit more acoustic and spare than his recent records, new songs such as “Last Night of the World” (a song that got considerable radio play last year) and “The Embers of Eden” find Cockburn striking his familiar understated blend of folk, blues, and rock.

But perhaps the most intriguing moment on Breakfast in New Orleans, Dinner in Timbuktu is Cockburn’s unconventional cover of Fats Domino’s “Blueberry Hill.” Judging by the mixed critical response the song has received, it is also the most controversial song on the CD.

Those used to the strolling original will be startled to hear “Blueberry Hill” turned into a languid version built around chiming guitars and a meditative tempo. This pace allows a real sense of sadness to emerge within what many consider a nostalgic good-time song.

“It’s one of the features of a song that becomes hugely popular and so much a part of the landscape that you tend to forget that it actually says something,” Cockburn notes.

“And that song, the reason it became popular is because it talks about an emotional experience that lots of people have had.”

Bruce Cockburn performs Tuesday, Feb. 15, at 8 p.m. at the Luther Burbank Center, 50 Mark West Springs Road, Santa Rosa. Tickets are $25. 546-3600.

From the February 10-16, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Usual Suspects

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Bench Press

Pat Gray candidacy stirs storm of protest

By Janet Wells

THE RACE for Sonoma County Superior Court Judge, Office No. 2, is heating to a roiling boil, with intimations that incumbent Patricia Gray is angling to deep-six, or at least cast doubt on, potentially unfavorable results from a Sonoma County Bar Association survey.

As is standard practice before every judicial election, the Sonoma County Bar Association distributed surveys to 1,348 attorneys just after the holidays, asking for their opinions on candidates’ abilities. By the Jan. 31 deadline, 166 responses had arrived, and local attorneys expected the results to be available this week. On Tuesday, the bar released the results for the five candidates running for a separate Superior Court seat being vacated by retiring Judge Lloyd von der Mehden. But results for the race between Gray and challenger Elliot Daum were conspicuously absent. A statement from the bar offered the provocative explanation that results were being withheld pending the outcome of a bar association board investigation into a complaint concerning the survey.

A handful of local attorneys and Daum supporters held a press conference Tuesday at Courthouse Square in downtown Santa Rosa, equating the bar association’s actions with censorship.

Apparently the bar association board will be looking into a complaint that an action by a bar staff member tainted the results of the survey. In a twist worthy of a Scott Turow plot, Sonoma County Bar Association Director Dan Schurman acknowledges that Gray is the source and that he is the subject of the complaint.

The trouble started because of his support for Daum, Schurman says. “I hosted an event where I invited my friends to come meet him,” he explains. “It wasn’t in my capacity with the Sonoma County Bar Association, but I sent [the invitation] from my Sonoma County Bar e-mail account. Pat Gray is claiming that was improper and voids the survey sent to 1,350 lawyers.”

Schurman says the bar distributed the survey a month before he sent the e-mail invitation to 12 lawyers. “[The invitation] was immediately followed by a second e-mail that this was not related to anything the bar association was doing, and that my support of Elliot does not reflect the Sonoma County Bar Association taking any position. It is a tempest in a teapot. It is absolutely ludicrous,” Schurman adds.

Gray’s complaint will be presented to the bar association board at its Feb. 14 meeting, but it is unclear when–or if–the survey results will be released.

“I trust that the Bar Association will conduct their investigation and report their findings in due course. There is no reason to speculate as to the reasons or the result of the delay,” Gray says in a statement released Tuesday through her campaign manager, David Williams. “To do otherwise is [to] speculate unfairly and cast a shadow on the Bar Association.”

SEVERAL ATTORNEYS, however, are willing to speculate that the survey will reflect a resounding lack of support for Gray. “There are a lot of people out there . . . that don’t feel that she should be a judge [because of] her temperament, her demeanor, her competency,” says Santa Rosa attorney L. Steve Turer.

Santa Rosa attorney Michael Fiumara says he was once a staunch fan of Gray’s. “I really believed in her. [But] she was very unpredictable,” he says, referring to Gray’s behavior during a case he tried in her courtroom. “One minute she was quite nice and cool, the next she was like a raging bull. She was so moody. I was terrified for my clients.”

Meanwhile, Gray’s candidacy has become a divisive issue among local Democratic Party officials and insiders, even though it’s a nonpartisan race. The Democratic Central Committee has endorsed Gray–an active party member–but Democratic Club of Santa Rosa members split on their support of Gray. One party activist reports that some club members recently asked the committee to rescind its endorsement, but were met with threats that the club’s charter might be revoked to penalize Daum supporters.

In Sonoma County’s other, mellower, judicial race, candidates received a rating of “exceptionally well qualified” from the following percentages of the bar survey’s respondents: Gregory Jilka, 37 percent; Cheryl Martinsen, 12 percent; Frank Briceno, 7 percent; James Bertoli, 2 percent; John LemMon, 1 percent.

Greg Cahill contributed to this article.

From the February 10-16, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Mel Graves

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All This Jazz

Local composer Mel Graves offers world premiere of ‘Spirit Changes’

MEL GRAVES is what some might call “a spiritual guy.” He can talk easily about meditation, Buddhism, or sacred Sufi poetry. He’s built his own spiritual practice, devoting two hours a day to prayer and study, reflecting on the thoughts of teachers ranging from the Dalai Lama to Neale Donald Walsch (Conversations with God). He can quote Pablo Neruda and Lao-tzu and Sri Ramakrishna.

But he’s also a master of the bass guitar who plays and teaches jazz, as well as writing demanding musical compositions for the likes of the Kronos Quartet. It is through jazz, in fact, that Graves’ eclectic skills and interests have found a comfortable home.

“The thing about jazz,” he muses, “is that old idea of, you know, ‘being in the moment.’ Well, to play really good jazz you have to be in the moment, and it takes an incredible amount of concentration to be in the moment–to be able to go anywhere, musically, with whomever you are playing with.

“I try to do my life the same way,” he says, “to really be in the moment, not to be thinking all the time of the past or the future, but just to really be there performing whatever is before me.”

This weekend, Graves will have a very special opportunity to be in the moment, and in the spotlight, when he joins a team of world-class musicians–New York vocalist Thomas Buckner and the award-winning Turtle Island String Quartet–for the world premiere of his newest piece, a remarkable 13-movement composition titled Spirit Changes.

Commissioned by Buckner, for whom Graves has composed twice before, the demanding piece draws on several obscure yet luminous texts, from Sutta Nipata’s Discourse on Good Will (“May all beings be filled with joy and peace; may all beings everywhere . . . be filled with lasting joy”) to Robert Bly’s adaptation of an ancient Zuni prayer (“This is what I want to happen: that our earth mother may be clothed in ground corn four times over; that frost flowers cover her entirely”).

Spirit Changes will be performed three times in February, beginning with the premiere on Saturday, Feb. 5, at SSU’s Evert B. Person Theatre, followed by a Sunday night show at Herbst Theater in San Francisco and, later in the month, a performance at Lincoln Center in New York City. Graves devoted six months to the writing of Spirit Changes, following a solid year spent searching through libraries for the right half-dozen texts.

“I looked at writings covering the last couple thousand years of Hindu, Buddhist, Taoist, Zuni Indian, and Jewish thought,” he says, “looking for texts that would provide a positive message for the millennium.” The time paid off. On the strength of the finished work, Graves was able to build a team of musicians that is nothing short of top-notch.

“I really feel fortunate to have all the people I wanted in the piece,” Graves says, nodding slowly. “Turtle Island was essential, because the piece requires a string quartet that can do all the contemporary classical stuff, but can also improvise over the jazz material. They all solo throughout the piece as well. Turtle Island is one of the very few groups that can do that.”

A player on the jazz scene for over 35 years, Graves, originally from Ohio, has lived in the Bay Area since 1967. He spent some time at the San Francisco Conservatory as a composer and bassist, after which there were occasional moves away–to San Diego, to New York, and then to Italy for a lengthy residence. But Graves kept returning to Northern California. In 1981, he was asked to teach a few jazz courses at Sonoma State University, a gig that turned him into a full-time local. Graves is now a full professor of SSU’s Jazz Department, one of the few places on earth you can take a four-year degree program in jazz studies.

ONE OF HIS FIRST pupils was flute player Bob Ofifi–“My first star student,” says Graves with a grin–who’s made a name for himself as a versatile musician able to swing easily from classical to jazz. Ofifi will be joining Graves and Turtle Island for all three performances, along with drummer George Marsh, pianist Smith Dobson, and Jon Crosse on winds.

As for the sound and style of Graves’ admittedly ambitious composition, Spirit Changes is mainly a “third-stream, world-concept piece,” with a foundation of contemporary classical music that frequently soars off into segments of full-on improvisational jazz, with multilayered passages revealing Afro-Cuban and Brazilian influences, as well as touches of reggae and Indian music.

“In terms of the rhythmic fields of the tunes,” says Graves, “it’s jazz and all the outshoots of the umbrella of jazz.”

Of the 13 movements, six are settings of the poem, six are jazzlike vehicles for the musicians to improvise on, “and the 13th,” explains Graves, “is a real mix of things.” With a gentle chuckle, he says, “I can’t really describe it, but it’s the most avant-garde thing in the piece.”

Graves points out that Spirit Changes is dedicated to his father, Clyde Graves, who died last summer, as his son was completing the piece.

“My father was one of my most important spiritual influences,” notes Graves. “He was a very giving, very generous man. And jazz is a very giving musical form. To play really good jazz with a band, you have to give generously to the other players, you have to be interdependent.

“That’s what I love about it.”

Catch the premiere of Spirit Changes on Saturday, Feb. 5, at 8 p.m. at Sonoma State University’s Person Theatre, 1801 E. Cotati Ave., Rohnert Park. Tickets are $15 for general admission, $8 for students and seniors. For details, call 664-2353.

From the February 3-9, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Alton Kelley, Stanley Mouse Poster Art

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Poster Kids

Kelley and Mouse psychedelic art takes center stage at Petaluma event

By Greg Cahill

FLASHBACK TO 1967–the waning days of the Summer of Love. America is yet to limp away from its “conflict” in the steamy rice paddies of Southeast Asia. Alabama Gov. Lurleen Wallace tries to foil federal court attempts to accelerate school desegregation. And a young San Francisco Giants captain named Willie Mays reminisces in local newspapers about last year’s pressure-cooker finish and makes predictions for the close of the ’67 baseball season.

Meanwhile, surfer boys and beach bunnies frolicking in the hot summer sun this Labor Day can forget their troubles and flip through the pages of Life magazine, past the exposé on Costa Nostra mob bosses and fashion notes on miniskirts to the cover story about “The Great Poster Wave.”

Splashed across the pages of the Sept. 1 issue is a kaleidoscope of vibrating color, chronicling the latest national hang-up: poster art. Life scorns the phenomenon as “expendable art . . . selling more than 1 million copies a week and gobbled up by avid maniacs who apparently abhor a void.”

The article names five seminal San Francisco poster artists–Alton Kelley, Stanley Mouse, Victor Moscoso, Rick Griffin, and Wes Wilson–as the “phantasmagoria of best-selling avant-garde.”

Two of those artists–Kelley and Mouse, who collaborated on dozens of posters, including works for the Grateful Dead–now reside in Sonoma County.

Their work will speak to rock-poster collectors Feb. 5 at the Petaluma Masonic Hall.

Interest in poster art is running high these days (even first- and second-generation reproductions of psychedelic posters can command hundreds of dollars from collectors). But in the ’60s, West Coast artists seldom earned more than $100 for their designs, whereas New York-based graphic designer Peter Max and a few others reaped a commercial windfall.

In fact, Kelley and Mouse, along with their San Francisco counterparts, didn’t realize any royalties from the innovative concert posters for Winterland, the Avalon Ballroom, and the Fillmore Auditorium that launched the poster craze.

FAST FORWARD TO 1986. Sixties nostalgia is running high. Publication of vintage rock-poster art in San Francisco Rock (Chronicle Books, 1985) by Marin author Jack McDonough led to a lawsuit by ex-Family Dog manager Chet Helms, who claimed that Chronicle Books had violated his copyright on the artwork. That was a revelation to the five poster artists, who believed that they were the legal owners of the rock posters they’d created between 1965 and 1968 to promote concerts by the Family Dog production company.

The artists formed a partnership called Artist Rights Today, suing Helms to recover ownership of their work. The effort proved futile.

“It was like losing the deed to the artistic ranch,” Moscoso, a Yale-trained painter who had settled in west Marin, said at the time.

Kelley and Mouse scored their first big hit with “Zig-Zag Man,” a well-known Family Dog poster plugging a June 1966 Avalon Ballroom concert with Big Brother and the Holding Company, plus the Quicksilver Messenger Service. The poster, which displayed the Zig-Zag trademark logo, helped make the then-fledgling cigarette-rolling-paper company an overnight success and catapulted the artist duo into the spotlight.

In the book The Art of Rock (Abbeville Press, 1986), author Paul Grushkin noted that the duo’s free appropriation of commercial trademarks like Mr. Peanut and the Sunmaid Raisin girl showed “a healthy sense of irreverence toward narrow propriety values.”

During a 1989 interview, Kelley simply smiled at that notion. It was only natural that the poster artists should draw on the “image bank . . . or the graphic flea market” for inspiration” he said. “Those images had been with us all our lives.

“But when Stanley and I did that poster, we got really paranoid. We figured, ‘Oh no. Now they know we smoke dope!’ And we took what little pot we had and flushed it down the toilet. But we wanted to create something that was visual and would make people stop in the streets and read and figure it out.

“It worked like a charm.”

NO ONE KNEW then that Kelley and Mouse would have an impact on the art world that continues to this day. “In the early days, it was real good,” Kelley recalled, describing the San Francisco underground in 1965 shortly after he arrived from Connecticut. Back then, he was just a wayward helicopter mechanic, motorcycle racer, and hot rod-era cartoonist with a knack for drawing monsters and winged eyeballs.

Mouse, a Detroit native, had a lucrative T-shirt painting business centered around the hot-rod and custom-car industry before moving to San Francisco, where he met Kelley.

The scene was “superhip,” Kelley mused. “But there was no such thing as the word hippie. I mean, it was a brand-new thing.”

In the spring of 1965, Kelley moved from the Family Dog’s Haight Street commune to Virginia City, Nev., to help build the notorious Red Dog Saloon. The now-defunct dancehall was the summer lair of the Charlatans, a San Francisco folk-rock band (Dan Hicks and Boz Scaggs were among its members) with a taste for turn-of-the-century gambler chic and potent hallucinogens–and a penchant for packing sidearms onstage.

It became a popular watering hole for Bay Area bohemians and Sierra residents keen on its Wild West flair and psychedelic atmosphere.

“What I remember most about the Red Dog was all the guns,” said band member and poster artist Michael Ferguson in an interview for The Art of Rock. “That’s the only thing we spent our money on–bullets. One of my favorite things was going down to the dump and spending an hour setting up cans and bottles, then finding an old chair, sitting down, and plunking away.

“It was a real loose Western scene.”

It also became the birthplace of the rock poster and helped inspire the freewheeling San Francisco concert scene that nurtured poster art.

That artwork, in turn, helped foster the street life that served as a focal point of ’60s counterculture. “You could not separate [the artist’s] role from that of the musician. . . . It just seemed like part of the puzzle,” Grushkin wrote in The Art of Rock. “When you take all these people as a group, they represent a revolution that was so palpable and so obvious that you couldn’t walk down the streets of San Francisco or be a kid on the East Coast and not hear the reverberations.”

Alton Kelley and Stanley Mouse will make an appearance Saturday, Feb. 5, from 1 to 5 p.m. at an event sponsored by the Rock Poster Society at the Petaluma Masonic Hall, 9 Western Ave., Petaluma. Admission is $5/members, $10/general public. Their work also is featured through this month at an exhibit of poster art at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, 151 Third St., San Francisco. 415/357-4000.

From the February 3-9, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

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