Senior Housing

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One of the lucky ones: With the help of the Petaluma Ecumenical Project, 72-year-old Arlene Morgan has found a one-bedroom apartment that costs just 30 percent of her gross annual income in rent.

(Not So) Golden

How the local housing market shortchanges seniors

By Yosha Bourgea

ARLENE MORGAN is one of the lucky ones, as she herself is the first to admit. Although her only source of income is a monthly Social Security check averaging $800, the 72-year-old grandmother and former university professor is still able to afford a roof over her head with enough left over for food, clothing, and an occasional trip to the Shodakai Casino north of Ukiah.

In Sonoma County, that’s no small trick.

With the help of the Petaluma Ecumenical Project, a nonprofit organization that provides affordable housing for the elderly, Morgan was able to obtain a one-bedroom apartment in a complex located a few blocks from Highway 101.

For the last three years she has paid 30 percent of her gross annual income in rent, and despite the close quarters she’s happy with where she lives.

“Senior low-income housing, a place like this, is ideal for people who don’t have many things,” she says, glancing around her simply furnished living room. “It’s a very small space.”

Fortunately, Morgan is used to packing light. In the 1970s, she left Mountain View to teach psychology at the University of Queensland in Brisbane, Australia. She returned to California in 1993, after her grandchildren were born, and discovered that housing costs had risen dramatically while she’d been away.

“When I was in Australia, I wasn’t thinking about getting a backlog of funds. That has never interested me,” Morgan says.

“I had no investments, no real estate.

“I was just staggered when I came here. It was going to take all of my Social Security just to pay the rent! I took one look at the cities [in the lower Bay Area] and I knew that wasn’t an option.”

While she looked for a place to live, Morgan stayed with her daughter-in-law in Tomales. It was clear that the only affordable long-term option was subsidized housing. “I might have been able to afford to rent if I didn’t live too long, ” she says dryly, “but you can’t count on that.”

When Morgan discovered PEP, the waiting list for apartments was more than 200 names long. Managers told her it would be two or three years before she could expect to hear anything. She signed up anyway.

Then came a stroke of luck. An opportunity arose to return to Brisbane to teach for a few more years, and she took it. While her name inched up the waiting list in Petaluma, Morgan was traveling around Australia doing research for a book on the status of aborigines in prison. When she returned to California in April of 1996, PEP officials told her the wait was down to about half a year.

Though it took all the money she had, Morgan rented for two months while she waited. Then she got lucky again. An unusually high turnover rate led to several vacancies, and that June, with nothing more than a couple of suitcases, Morgan finally moved into a PEP apartment. And for the foreseeable future, that’s where she plans to stay. “I’m very fortunate,” she says. “There’s a real spirit of community here in Petaluma.

“I don’t know how we’ve been able to maintain it.”

Is Help on the Way? Yes, if President Bill Clinton’s proposal to provide 120,000 affordable-housing units is approved by Congress.

THE POPULATION of Sonoma County, like that of the rest of the country, is growing older as it grows larger. A recent report from the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services’ Administration on Aging shows that over the next 30 years, as an escalating population in general and the baby-boom generation in particular reaps the benefits of advances in medical science, the number of elderly people nationwide is projected to double.

“The rapid growth of the elderly represents in part a triumph of the efforts to extend human life,” says Jacob Siegel of the Administration on Aging, “but these age groups also require a disproportionately large share of special services and public support. There will be large increases by 2030 in the numbers requiring special services in housing.”

The 1999 annual report from the Association of Bay Area Governments brings the numbers closer to home. According to the report, in the next 20 years the number of people in the Bay Area over age 65 will increase by 719,000, or 90 percent, to a total of more than 1.5 million.

And in Sonoma County, seniors searching for a place to live are up against a housing market that a study by the National Association of Home Builders says is the fourth least affordable in the country.

There are now more than 11,000 seniors in the county who, like Arlene Morgan, are living on Social Security or low fixed incomes: think $700 a month, or less. With low-income housing already scarce and waiting lists for the Department of Housing and Urban Development’s Section 8 subsidy program often as long as two years, the elderly in Sonoma County are caught in the middle of a housing crisis that is just beginning to get a lot worse.

“Seniors are coming to us on an almost weekly basis with evictions,” says Shirlee Zane, executive director of the Council on Aging. “It’s very typical to see a client [who has] a reduction in their SSI, their utilities are going to be turned off, and they simply can’t meet their rent.”

Pam Wallace, director of the Interfaith Shelter Network, estimates that 12 to 15 percent of her clients are seniors, though not always in the legal sense. The Department of Housing and Urban Development defines a senior as anyone past the age of 62, but Wallace sets the bar considerably lower.

“Our generation, the baby boomers, are coming up on 50,” Wallace says. “Many of the people we see who are over 50 are really frail and at risk. The other factor is that many of the men are Vietnam veterans, and we see a large percentage of them who are homeless. Rather than waiting until people decompensate even more, we think that establishing a lower age for seniors is a good idea.”

Susan*, a 53-year-old woman who had been living out of her truck following an eviction, found not only a room but employment through IFSN. She works part-time as an administrative assistant at the transitional housing facility where she now lives.

“I can set my own hours,” Susan says. “Pam trusts me to get the job done. Nobody’s had that kind of faith in me, or me in myself, for a long time.”

Still, both the job and the living space–which she shares with a roommate–are temporary. Tenants at the housing facility take part in a six- to 12-month program that includes regular meetings with a credit counselor. When the program is over, they are expected to make way for others.

Susan is feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time, but she knows that her financial difficulties are far from over. “Resources for people between 50 and 62 are real limited,” she says.

“[Advocacy] groups tend to focus on families with kids. The potential for gainful employment is limited when you’re my age. I have no retirement, nothing in savings. It’s scary.”

AT A TIME when the need for low-income housing is greater than ever, many landlords are opting out of renewing their subsidized-housing contracts with HUD. And in Santa Rosa, tax-exempt mortgage revenue bonds issued by the city in the 1980s are reaching the end of their 10-year affordability requirement.

Landlords who have paid off the bonds are no longer required to maintain low-income rental units. Many are now charging market rates, effectively displacing residents who cannot afford to pay more.

At Apple Creek Apartments on Third Street and Dutton Avenue, one of the properties to take advantage of the city’s bond agreement, the units that for more than a decade were affordable to low-income families are now priced at the market rate.

Some 48 residents, many of whom are senior citizens, have had to find housing elsewhere.

Property manager Martha Jared didn’t want to force her low-income tenants to move; in fact, she voluntarily extended the agreement for two years to help them. But with the market skyrocketing, she was losing money. For a one-bedroom apartment, Section 8 funds have a cap of $684 per month. The market rate for that apartment now starts at $925. Apple Creek’s loss on its low-income apartments thus ran close to $14,000 a month, or $168,000 a year.

JARED IS PROUD that she has been able to help all her former tenants find new residences. When she heard through a contact in the housing department that a new complex was about to open up, she leaked the information to her residents before it went on the market. “When a new place opens up, it gets filled up so quickly,” Jared says.

Few developers are now willing to take a chance on low-income housing. John Lowry, executive director of Burbank Housing Development Corp., points out that a development marketed at $500 a month per apartment would lose money on every unit.

“There’s quite a bit of market-rate senior housing [being] developed by private developers,” Lowry observes.

“But the closer you get to market rate, the less demand there is. As far as we can see, the demand for subsidized senior housing is huge out there, because they all fill up.”

Gale Brownell of the Santa Rosa Housing Authority says that 270 low-income housing units in the city were converted to market rate between 1990 and 1998. During the same period, she says, 843 low-income housing units were conserved.

“Santa Rosa has more affordable housing now than at any time in the 1990s,” Brownell says. “I think the city is doing a good job in a very difficult market.”

Not everyone is convinced of that. Affordable-housing advocates such as Shirlee Zane say that the city discourages high-density, low-income housing with fees, restrictive building codes, and a convoluted permit process.

“Builders of affordable housing have to jump through these hoops and obstacles that the city gives them, and they can’t profit,” Zane says.

“If you’re a developer, you have to profit.”

Profitability may be the bottom line, but it’s not the end of the story. As landlords, developers, advocacy groups, and government officials struggle with the logistics of our housing crisis, the number of elderly, low-income people in Sonoma County continues to climb.

These are real people, housing advocates say, not statistics or dollar signs. And they’re not going away.

* Not her real name.

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

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Reduced Shakespeare Company

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Small Talk

Reduced Shakespeare takes on a millennium’s worth of history

REED MARTIN is pregnant. To be accurate, it’s Martin’s wife, Jane, who is technically with child–the Sonoma couple’s second carbon-based life form–but the local actor-vaudevillian is certainly pregnant in spirit.

After several months of touring with his world-famous Reduced Shakespeare Company–the infamously high- and low-brow comedy troupe that has frequently toured the planet with its outrageous condensations of Shakespeare, the Bible, and American and world history–Martin is now gearing up for a few months of much-anticipated “paternity leave.”

It officially begins right after this weekend’s five-show run at the Marin Center of RSC’s latest production, The Complete Millennium Musical, which basically reduces 1,000 years of history to 100 minutes of bawdy, fast-faced tomfoolery–with singing.

“Though some dare not call it singing,” Martin warns. “We also dance, and I can honestly say that as a dancer, I’m a pretty good comedian.”

Having just ended a successful five-week run at the Seattle Repertory Theater, Martin is back home and in high spirits, in spite of a few phenomenally bad reviews in Seattle.

“One reviewer said something like ‘This is possibly the most amateurish, and certainly the least amusing, show I have ever had the displeasure to see on a Seattle stage,’ ” Martin reveals, as he rumbles into a warm gale of good-natured laughter. “Ouch! That’s not a review, that’s hate mail.”

He has good reason to laugh at such nasty jibes. The troupe’s Seattle run went on to sell out every show, becoming the third most successful event in the 35-year history of the Seattle Rep. In all fairness, a number of critics liked the show. The Seattle Times even called it “the most enjoyable history lesson you’ll ever have.'”

“I think we should do what Tom Lehrer did,” Martin says, in reference to the satirical songwriter who, after a critic remarked that a Tom Lehrer concert added up to an evening wasted, gleefully used An Evening Wasted as the title of his next album.

“I’m serious,” Martin says, laughing. “I think we should start using ‘The most amateurish and least amusing show in history’ in all of our advertising.”

Begun as a pass-the-hat group performing wildly irreverent versions of Hamlet at the Renaissance Pleasure Faire, the troupe has transformed itself many times.

With the Complete Millennium Musical, Martin and company–the current troupe also features Taylor Young and John Pohlhammer–break history down into six ages, from the Dark Ages to the Information Age.

“We cover every important historical and literary event from Beowulf to Baywatch,” Martin explains, “with 25 original songs, including stuff like ‘The Four Norsemen of the Apocalypse’ and one called ‘Heavenly Bodies,'” the latter being an innuendo-filled Barry White-like disco song, sung by Martin as Galileo.

“We wanted to do something different this time,” he says, “to stretch ourselves–and we really stretch on this one. I’m quite proud of the show.”

With a chuckle he adds, “All hate mail aside.

‘The Complete Millennium Musical’ plays Feb. 3-6, with shows at 8 p.m. on Thursday and Friday, at 6 and 9 p.m. on Saturday, and at 7 p.m. on Sunday at the Marin Center’s Showcase Theater, Avenue of the Flags, San Rafael. $35-$45. 415/472-3500.

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

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Spins

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Mixed Bag

A bit of blues, a splash of psychobilly

Patricia Barber Companion (Blue Note/Premonition)

DIANE KRALL got a heap of attention in all of those tedious year-end top-pick lists. The only trouble is that the jazz pianist and singer comes across like a lounge act with a damn good p.r. agent–her song selections bottomed out last year when Krall covered Michael Franks’ insipid ode to cuddly companions “Popsicle Toes.” Unfortunately, the media machine for the most part ran over the excellent release by Chicago native Patricia Barber. She basically does the same shtick as Krall, but Barber has a gritty barroom sensibility that resonates in this live date recorded at the legendary Green Mill, an internationally known Chicago club that helped spawn the whole nouveau hipster scene. The originals are engaging, the covers of Sonny Bono’s “The Beat Goes On” and Bill Withers’ “Use me” are modern-cool classics. Hailed as both the No. 1 talent deserving of wider recognition (1999 Downbeat International Critics’ Poll) and the jazz musician most likely to reject success, Barber is a real winner. This is a companion you should, ah hum, Krall to with open arms. Greg Cahill

The Hellacopters Payin’ the Dues (Sub-Pop)

THE CHUCK BERRY family tree runs through the Rolling Stones and the MC5 and branches out to Black Sabbath, the Sex Pistols, and every piece of hard rock that’s come since. Sweden’s the Hellacopters aren’t just a link in that chain, but a reminder that the line between punk and metal is historically thin. Style differences between the genres always funnel into the louder/faster/harder ethos, and the Hellacopters use that ethos to blitz past their influences. “Hey!” uncorks the Clash’s second album, “Looking at Me” sounds like a lost Lynyrd Skynyrd hit, and “Twist Action” is flaming psychobilly, while “Like No Other Man” spits out the riff from Kiss’ “Deuce” at 78 rpm. Payin’ the Dues is only $10 and has a bonus live disc that’s longer (and heavier and nastier) than the actual album. And these guys play some monstrous Chuck Berry licks. Karl Byrn

Various Artists Fire and Skill: The Songs of the Jam (Epic)

DURING THE GREAT and glorious punk heyday (circa 1977), the Jam were almost universally dismissed as mod revivalists, a fact owing to the band’s earlier roots in the British rock and soul scene. Headed by Beatles fan Paul Weller, the band racked up nine Top 10 hits on U.K. pop singles charts before disbanding in 1982. But the band’s high-energy pop and adventurous sonic experiments earned plenty of fans over the years. Some of them have come together on this 11-song tribute, including Liam Gallagher of Oasis and Steve Cradock of Ocean Color Scene (who team up on a cover of “Carnation”), the Beastie Boys, Garbage, Buffalo Tom, Ben Harper, and Everything But the Girl. Oasis songwriter Noel Gallagher closes out the set with a rendering of “To Be Someone,” Weller’s tender commentary on the ephemeral nature of fame. You could write this off as much ado about nothing, but bear in mind that Pete Townshend, everyone’s favorite proto punk, once extolled the Jam as representing “everything that is vitally important in rock.”

G.C.

Terry Evans Walk That Walk (Telarc Blues)

PRAISE THE LORD! Singer and guitarist Terry Evans returns with his gospel-tinged R&B backed by a crack band that features guitarist Ry Cooder, drummer Jim Keltner, and background singer Willie Green Jr. Pure heaven. As one half of a vocal duo that once included West Coast soulman Bobby King, Evans has performed over the years with John Fogerty, John Hiatt, Cooder, and a slew of other cats who know something special when they hear it. The Evans/King duo recorded a few well-received albums during the late ’80s and early ’90s before parting ways. This third solo CD finds Evans soaring, moving easily through a soulful set of gospel stomps, blues shuffles, and R&B ballads. With roots steeped in the Mississippi tradition of his youth and one foot still in the choir box, Evans is an R&B tour de force. G.C.

The Supersuckers The Evil Powers of Rock ‘n’ Roll (Koch)

THE SUPERSUCKERS are the type of super-basic, super-hyper bar band that sounds pretty damn good if you’re sober and pretty friggin’ awesome after four beers. Hailing from Tucson, these ferocious focused cowpunks form a link between the Ramones and Merle Haggard (sounding like the former while covering the latter on “I Can’t Hold Myself in Line”). After a failed major-label deal gave them a bad taste of so-called success, they’ve joyously returned to the grungy, speedy sound of their Sub-Pop roots. It’s a disc that you don’t need for musical news, but you do need for, well, the evil powers of rock ‘n’ roll. It’s a two-ton shooting star, so belly up to the bar and make a wish while you can.

K.B.

Various Artists Music of Indonesia: Indonesian Guitars (Smithsonian/Folkways)

THE MUSIC of Indonesia–a far-flung nation where 300 ethnic groups inhabit 3,000 islands–usually brings to mind the ancient art of gamelan, which consists largely of gongs and other metallophones. So these 12 tracks of mostly acoustic guitar-based music are something of a revelation for Western ears. The often simple, graceful melodies–played behind a variety of vocals–sometimes recall the sound of the Appalachian hills, a world away. At other times, the tracks evoke crude classical styles, Hawaiian slack-key guitar, or even hybridized pop/jazz. Fascinating stuff. Easily one of the most intriguing world-music CDs to come along in months.

G.C.

From the January 27-February 2, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

‘Edge of Seventeen’

Edge of Seventeen.

Ohio Player

A boy’s coming out in Sandusky

By

IT’S 1984 on the coast of Ohio. Eric (Chris Stafford), who lives in the Lake Erie resort town of Sandusky, has just completed his junior year in high school. Stafford, the star of David Moreton’s film Edge of Seventeen, is cute and gawky, a less frantic version of Jim Carrey.

Eric is still a kid, cruising around in his parents’ Country Squire; he’s still under the care of his mother (warmly played by Stephanie McVay), who still packs baloney-and-white-bread sandwiches for her son. Over the summer Eric works with his sort-of girlfriend, Maggie (Tina Holmes), in a cafeteria. There he meets two people who change him. One is the wait-staff manager (Lea DeLaria, as the friendliest butch dyke in cinema history). The other is Rod (Andersen Gabrych), good-looking and openly gay. During the summer and the year that follow, Eric begins to realize that he likes boys. (He thought it was just that he liked David Bowie.)

Edge of Seventeen champions Eric’s struggle to find himself, but it also points out the ways Eric has to lie to himself and his family. And the boy’s treatment of Maggie demonstrates the true blundering cruelty of youth.

But the film is comic. As a former dish-monkey in a restaurant, I’ve waited forever to see a movie scene of the kitchen staff sucking the nitrous oxide out of the whipped cream cans in the walk-in refrigerator. (Nothing like a laughing-gas break to take the sting out of a 10-hour shift.) The film is soaked in the ambiance of a hot Midwestern summer–in everything from a sexy, drunken party during a sweltering night to the vintage disco soundtrack assembled by Tom Bailey (one half of the Thompson Twins). The suitably awkward sex scenes seem real and funny.

Best of all is Holmes, superb in the difficult part of Maggie, a girl who keeps hoping, hopelessly, that she can turn Eric straight. The role of the sad, scorned woman is the worst part in any picture, and the part is doubly jinxed in a picture about a gay man. (Unless, of course, you can just turn it into raving farce, as Joan Cusack did in In and Out.) Holmes shows her pain like an iceberg: most of it is under the surface. She may well be a big star someday.

Edge of Seventeen comes with the traditional finale of a homosexual coming-(out)-of-age movie, a dance party in a gay bar. But earlier, we saw that bar at 2 a.m., with the patrons–formerly so suave and insouciant–slumping, muttering under that miserable blaze of closing-time light. (The sight is almost enough to scare Eric straight.) The ending is also shadowed by the memory of the last mute, despairing look Maggie gave Eric. In moments like these, Edge of Seventeen transcends the commonplace.

Edge of Seventeen opens Friday, Jan. 28, at the Rialto Cinemas Lakeside, 551 Summerfield Road, Santa Rosa. For more information, see Movie Times, page 44, or call 539-9770.

From the January 27-February 2, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Martha’s

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Vision quest: Martha Lopez lends a personal touch to the upscale Mexican cuisine at her popular west county establishment.

On Her Own

Sebastopol restaurateur Martha Lopez finds a place to play house

By Marina Wolf

CHEFING is a transient business. There’s always a better gig at the new place down the street, better pay in the next town over. Ask around, and you’ll be lucky to find a chef who’s been in the same place for three years, let alone 35, as Martha Lopez had at her family’s restaurant, the popular Old Mexico in Santa Rosa, before opening her own place, Martha’s, in Sebastopol.

Lopez is nonchalant about the three and a half decades she spent working and cooking with her family, at the restaurant that their parents opened in 1964, soon after they arrived in the county from Michoacan, Mexico. “I was raised to do this,” she says in a rare moment of relaxation on the green-covered patio behind the cozy new space on Main Street. “I had no other choice. It was my father’s choice,” she says with not a trace of bitterness. “I don’t know what else I might have done.

“I have always done this.”

Lopez’s longtime compliance with her family’s wishes might be startling to Anglo-Americans, who usually want to flee the nest long before it’s a legal possibility. But to Lopez it’s simply the sign of a close family and good household economics. There are six children in the family–“My father had a good source of labor,” says Lopez with a chuckle–and all of them are still working in the family restaurant.

All except Martha.

“They’re not too happy, none of them,” says Lopez with a small shrug. “Because when part of the family leaves, the right hand, you know . . . Because I was one of the oldest, I had more responsibilities. I think the boys will have to pick up some of the duties.”

The “boys,” as she calls her four brothers affectionately, are all in their 30s, and Lopez is confident that they’ll soon fill in the space left by her departure. “They saw what I did,” she explains, “as I saw what my father did.”

THAT STOVE-SIDE training provided Lopez with a well-rounded education, as far as these things go. Lopez’s father did some of everything in the kitchen, and loved it, both at home and in the restaurant. Of course, in Mexico both are often the same place. “There you cook everything in your house, set a table outside, and serve it out like you were at home,” she says.

While U.S. health codes prohibit that exact sort of homeliness, the Lopez family did manage to reproduce the same feel at Old Mexico. Everyone was there, all the time. Ever since she’d finished high school and cosmetology school, Lopez had worked like the rest of them: six days a week, 14 to 16 hours a day.

She doesn’t complain; it was just part of being in the family.

Lopez hasn’t seen her family much since Martha’s opened on Nov. 1; neither she nor her family has the time. The most she has to look forward to is the standard set of American family holidays: Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter. The fact that she owns her own home in Santa Rosa makes the separation that much more complete. She has no husband, as her mother did, to take a shift at the restaurant’s stove, and no children to come home after school and help out in the kitchen.

BUT SOME TRADITIONS die hard. Lopez is still working with family: cousin Martha Lobato, who had worked at Old Mexico for 14 years, joined her elder cousin in the Sebastopol venture as hostess and server. Lopez and Lobato are also sharing a home, with Lobato’s two grown sons, who do sometimes come in to help on the weekends.

It reproduces the feel of her old family situation, in miniature.

Certainly the work environment has been downsized. “The first two weeks working in the kitchen, I was banging myself on the corners because I was not used to working in such a small place,” says Lopez. Small indeed: Martha’s will have maybe 17 tables during the summer, when the patio is open. There’s half that many now. Old Mexico, on the other hand, seats about 200 people, including those in the party room, for a total of 50 tables or more. “This is nothing; it’s like a playhouse for me.”

But at least the playhouse is all hers. “I like my independence,” Lopez says, folding her hands together firmly. “Working with the family, you have to go by Father’s rules, and have people tell you what to do, when you know what to do. Getting to decide for myself was the best thing about leaving.”

And it’s not just the sun-backed chairs and the arrangement of the condiments in the kitchen that Lopez can decide about. She’s got more latitude now to play with the ingredients, which she pulls from both her native Michoacan and her California home.

In a cuisine that, in this country, tends toward steam-table sameness, and in a city that already had one Mexican restaurant per thousand people, the young Martha’s restaurant is already serving regulars who appreciate the low price and freshness of Lopez’s approach.

“I’m not going to say my food is that different, but it has my own touch, in every plate.” She is particularly proud of her salad dressing, a creamy avocado sauce that she says came to her in a dream.

But still, after 35 years, why the sudden decision to strike out on her own? “Well, it was a challenge for me. After working for my family for 35 years, I kind of said, ‘I want something else.’ I’m 48 years old, so I had to do it while I still had the strength to do something like this on my own.”

From the January 27-February 2, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Rental Housing

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No room at the inn: Maceo Campbell and Michal Pincus moved to the county five years ago in search of affordable housing. Instead, they found escalating rents and landlords who charged exorbitant rates for substandardshelter.

No Vacancy

Tight housing market makes local rentals a competitive game

By Janet Wells

FIVE YEARS AGO Michal Pincus and her partner, Maceo Campbell, were driven out of San Francisco by the high rents. The two headed for Sonoma County, which seemed like a perfect spot for artist Pincus and environmental activist Campbell. For $400 a month, they rented a funky trailer in Sebastopol, with a solarium and a tree growing through the roof.

The first big blow to the couple’s North Coast dreams came just a year later. It wasn’t that the trailer baked in the summer and the rain and wind came in through the leaky roof in the winter. Or that the trailer had only a small wood-burning stove for heat.

The kicker was cost.

Pincus suffers from chronic fatigue syndrome, but was unable to qualify for disabilzity benefits, and Campbell’s salary couldn’t cover the trailer rent. The two soon discovered that they were priced out of the market everywhere in the county. “We were basically homeless for a couple of years, on the couch-and-floor tour. We even lived in a tent for a while,” Pincus says.

When her disability claim came through last year, Pincus figured the two would be able to afford a studio cottage at the low end of the rent spectrum. Wrong.

“Right after I got approved, I looked in the paper and, man, the carrot got moved. It’s just gone up, up, up,” she laments. “The whole thing almost has become like a comic farce. I followed up on one place that was listed for $500. It was a converted chicken coop, with no insulation. They had a line of people coming to look at this place.”

What the two could afford was an attic room, with ceilings so low that both had to stoop to move around. The landlord, says Pincus, did them a favor by giving them a month’s free rent before starting to charge $300.

“We paid it because we had to. Part of me was so beaten down and so sick, and part of me was furious,” she says. “What makes people who have money better than me so it makes it OK for me to have to live this way?”

Going Up: Sonoma County Rents.

Caught Behind the 8 Ball: Local rental market a jungle for low-income tenants.

No Kidding: Audit reveals discrimination against children.

PINCUS’ STORY isn’t all that unusual, at least in Sonoma County. Just about everyone, it seems, has a housing nightmare to share. Eviction for no good reason. Rent hikes three, even four times in one year. Three people squeezing into one room to make ends meet. A hundred prospective renters showing up for an open house and engaging in a bidding war that drives rents even higher.

These days the notion of a cute little wine-country garden cottage for $500 is quaint, if not downright laughable.

The local economy is booming. The population is growing. The job market is beckoning. The real estate market is red-hot. But there’s a price to pay for success: Welcome to the stratospheric rental market.

Almost half of the county’s renters pay more than 30 percent of their income on rent, an amount that the federal Department of Housing and Urban Development deems “unaffordable,” resulting in tenants neglecting such necessities as medical insurance, clothing, and food.

The average rent for a studio in Sonoma County has gone up almost 13 percent in one year to $591 a month, according to RealFacts, a Novato-based company that analyzes real estate markets. A three-bedroom, two-bath apartment is going for an average of $1,227 monthly, an increase of more than 14 percent.

Vacancy rates are so low that it’s not unusual for landlords to get dozens of applications for a single apartment. One recent survey found only one vacancy in 1,118 apartment units in Petaluma, and only three vacancies in 2,298 units in Rohnert Park–approaching an almost unheard-of 0 percent vacancy rate. The overall vacancy rate in the county hovers around 2 percent. Affordable-housing advocates and real estate experts agree that a 5 percent vacancy rate is the watermark of a healthy market that benefits both renters and landlords.

“When the market is as tight as it is now, the market responds by increasing the price,” says Scott Gerber of Marcus & Millichap, a commercial real estate brokerage in San Francisco. “It’s not like landlords are trying to gouge people. There’s a long line of renters out there trying to rent. People are offering to pay more money.”

The good news, says Gerber, is that apartment construction is on the upswing. “If more housing is added, it will stabilize the rent and the vacancy rate will climb.”

Several hundred units of student housing are coming in Rohnert Park, which should relieve some of the demand for housing around Sonoma State University, Gerber says. And in Santa Rosa, city officials in 1998 approved permits for 600 units of housing.

“When vacancy rates are higher, people are not going to build apartments in that market, because it decreases the chance of having a successful project,” says Santa Rosa Community Development Director Wayne Goldberg. “The last time we had a huge burst of multifamily construction was in the mid-1980s, when the tax laws were favorable and vacancy rates were low, which made it profitable.”

Among the projects on the drawing board in Santa Rosa are 287 apartments on Highway 12 just east of Mission Boulevard, about 100 apartments in the downtown area, and 176 apartments at the Mountainview Villas.

But for people like Pincus, many of the apartments coming on line are hardly affordable, charging upwards of $1,000 a month for a one-bedroom apartment.

When Colleen Fernald Molinari’s landlord wanted to sell the southwest Santa Rosa house she was renting with her husband, a local high-tech-industry worker, and two kids, the family was forced to settle for a smaller three-bedroom house, with almost no yard, and fixer-upper frustrations. The monthly rent? $1,475, almost 50 percent more than they were paying for a roomier, more upscale place.

Molinari, who works in production and distribution at the Independent, says they can’t afford Sonoma County rents. “People stuck in the middle like us have it the hardest. We make too much to qualify for special programs, but not enough to get out of debt,” she says. “We live really frugally. We don’t go on trips. We don’t even go out. Our routine is a video and a grocery store pizza on a Friday night.”

Indeed, Molinari was on the verge of moving to Austin, Texas, last summer, where “you can get twice the home for the price.” But the move fell through, and the couple is now struggling to keep up with the high cost of living locally.

THE TIGHT HOUSING market means more calls for Sonoma County Rental Information and Mediation Services, a publicly funded program that tries to resolve disputes between landlords and tenants. These days it’s about evictions, rent hikes, and desperate pleas for help in finding places to live.

“We get a lot more calls from people that can’t find housing,” says SCRIMS executive director Sherry Couts. “All we can do is refer them to the newspapers and property management firms.”

Tenants can’t believe that multiple rent hikes are legal, says SCRIMS operations manager John Shaw. “We’re coming up against people who think there is rent control. There isn’t. A landlord can raise the rent 2 cents or $2,000, and can raise it every month of the year.”

And if a landlord wants a tenant out, 30-day notice is the only requirement, no cause needed. “That can be really devastating,” Shaw says. “You won’t get another apartment with an eviction on your record.”

SCRIMS is a barebones operation, with one full-time and one part-time employee, aging equipment, and dwindling funding, trying to do mediation for a county of half a million. In a rental market that is increasingly hostile for tenants, SCRIMS doesn’t have the resources to keep up with demand, says David Brigode, housing director at People for Economic Opportunity.

“We have to come up with a new approach to deal with private-sector housing, a better tenant-landlord program, a better fair-housing program,” Brigode says. “People don’t know their rights, or are scared to exercise their rights. . . . There’s no outreach to other agencies or to farm workers to educate people.”

Brigode says that this spring PEO will be vying for SCRIMS’ funding contract from the county and the city of Santa Rosa. PEO, along with Fair Housing in Marin County, already received a $300,000 grant from Housing and Urban Development to do education, outreach, and fair-housing enforcement.

The need for a more aggressive approach to rental mediation is urgent, Brigode says. “Housing is nowhere near job growth,” he says. “It’s like musical chairs. The music stops and someone is left homeless.”

MICHAL PINCUS and her partner did find a way out of their attic garret. They now live in a converted garage, sharing a bathroom and kitchen with six other people. The rent is $400 a month, and the landlord is a friend. But she still dreams of finding a place of their own that’s affordable and livable.

“It’s depressing,” she says about the rental market. “We really have to look at what we’re doing here, and at the greed that’s dictating how we’re making our decisions. It’s changing the face of Sonoma County. You’re driving out people who don’t have a lot of money.

“Ever since the Reagan ’80s, it has become a privilege to have a home,” she adds. “This is wrong. Housing is not a privilege. . . . It is not just for the rich.”

From the January 27-February 2, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Himalayan Chhahari

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Mountain menu: Fans of Nepalese cuisine have something to rave about with the advent of Himalayan Chhahari in downtown Santa Rosa. Pictured are chef/owner Raju Mothe, Yagya Shrestha, and Sujana Shrestha.

Taste Trek

Savor the exotic at Himalayan Chhahari

By Paula Harris

THERE’S NOTHING like traveling to foreign parts vicariously through the simple act of eating at ethnic restaurants, where a mere menu can become your passport to exotic sights, textures, aromas, and flavors.

While I was growing up in London in the 1970s, the United States was considered the coolest place on earth and American food was the most exotic of all. The high school kids in my class took to wearing jeans, sneakers, and T-shirts emblazoned with that annoying swirly red Coca-Cola motif. They snapped bubble gum and devoured American Graffiti at the cinema.

A new place opened up in my residential London neighborhood–a real American restaurant! The first we’d ever seen. It was a glitzy place called W.C. Fields, and the walls were covered with photos of the drawling comedian.

Every Thursday night, my friends and I would frequent this combination burger joint/deli/soda fountain. We’d dine on novel items like crispy potato skins, Buffalo wings, chili-cheese burgers, and strawberry shortcake. We’d dream we were in L.A. or the Big Apple.

Of course, now that I’ve lived in the states for many years–those items have lost their mysterious allure. But I’m constantly on the lookout for other unusual eateries that can take those trusty old taste buds on tour.

When Himalayan Sherpa Cuisine, a small, no-frills eatery opened on the outskirts of Glen Ellen a couple of years ago, the place really satisfied this culinary wanderlust. The scene featured Himalayan posters and artifacts, haunting bell-like music, and hearty dishes bursting with unusual flavors. When the Sherpa owners brought us steaming cups of fortifying milky chai tea–redolent with cardamom, cloves, and fresh ginger, on a freezing day after a long hike in Jack London Park one afternoon–we closed our eyes, inhaled the scents, and imagined we’d successfully reached Base Camp.

The Sherpa place closed last year, but our addiction to the colorful diverse Nepali cuisine, which uses tantalizing flavorings like cumin, cardamom, green, and red chilies, garlic, ginger, fenugreek, Szechwan peppers, and scallions, was as strong as ever.

A Santa Rosa restaurant called Katmandu Kitchen opened about the same time as Himalayan Sherpa Cuisine and featured Indian and Nepali cooking, but never reached the culinary level of the Himalayan Sherpa Cuisine restaurant.

Now, that too, has closed and a new Nepali restaurant has been born in its location.

Photo by Michael Amsler

Himalayan Chhahari is a casual, comfortable place with friendly service. A new carpet, fabric-covered archways, and red-painted wall trim give a warm effect. There are posters of Nepal on the walls, and sitar music plays softly on the sound system. Diners can be seated either at regular tables or (more interestingly) on the floor, sans shoes.

The wine list is minimal and not properly described on the menu, so stick to imported Indian beers, like Kingfisher or Taj Majal ($3).

Appetizers include momo ($4.25), steamed dumplings stuffed with ground chicken and herbs served with tomato pickle. Although these are pretty good, we’d like to see a vegetarian version also on the menu, such as the tasty spinach-cabbage momo served at the defunct Sherpa place.

The alu chap ($3), deep-fried mashed potato with chopped onion and cilantro served with sweet-and-sour tamarind sauce is a mouthwatering appetizer that smells as good as it tastes.

We sampled an array of curries: mixed vegetable curry ($7.50), including carrots, green beans, and broccoli; chicken curry ($8.95) with onion gravy, tomato and ginger; and fish curry ($11.95), described as red snapper cooked in a rich curry sauce, but actually large chunks of moist salmon.

But all the curries were too tame. For example, the fish curry would have been more exciting livened up with some ginger, whole spices, and scallions.

The chana ko dal ($6.95), a dish of garbanzo beans cooked in olive oil with fresh minced ginger and garlic, which has a souplike consistency, is very satisfying and flavorful.

Another winner was the fantastic garlic nan bread ($1.75), fluffy pillows that are cooked in the tandoor oven and emerging dry and deliciously chewy.

For dessert, try the kulfi ($2.50), homemade Nepali-style ice cream with raisins. It has an unusual icy-custard texture. Or try the kheer ($2.95), a mildly sweet rice pudding with a slight rosewater flavor prepared with coconut, raisins, cashews, cinnamon, and cardamom.

THE LUNCH BUFFET is an unbeatable bargain. For $5.95, you can load your plate (as many times as you like) with smoky succulent tandoori chicken; steamed basmati rice; chicken curry; garbanzo beans; lentils with whole spices; cauliflower and potatoes cooked with tumeric; and red potato and yellow squash curry. Plus green salad, nan bread and an assortment of interesting condiments, including mango chutney, cucumber raita, hot green chili and mint sauce, and sweet-and-sour tamarind sauce.

And while the food in general tastes far less complex than the old Sherpa Cuisine restaurant, Himalayan Chhahari chef Rajul Mothey is so pleasant and accommodating, we’re sure he’ll spice up the dishes on request to send you on that culinary journey.

Himalayan Chhahari Address: 535 Ross St., Santa Rosa; 579-8471 Hours: Lunch, Sunday-Friday, noon to 2:30 p.m.; dinner, daily, 5 to 9:30 p.m. Food: Dishes from Nepal and India Service: Proficient Ambiance: Casual with table or floor seating Price: Inexpensive to moderate with bargain lunch buffet Wine list: Minimal selection Overall: 2 1/2 stars (out of 4), dinner; 3 stars, lunch

From the January 27-February 2, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Sonoma County Filmmakers

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Blast from the past: Sonoma County filmmaker Abe Levy cradles the antique camera he used as a student. These days, Levy employs state-of-the-art digital technology to make his films.

Reel Deal

Local filmmakers shoot for the big time

By Daedalus Howell

“WE’RE READY for your close-up, Mr. Howell,” says Tomales-bred filmmaker Abe Levy, exhaling a plume of Parliament cigarette smoke into the cab of a rented moving truck. Inside, I’ve been incubating a hangover while the truck’s stick shift massages my spleen. It’s 7 a.m., and we’re parked near a jagged precipice in Angeles National Forest, about an hour’s ride from the movie-mad bustle of Southern California, or as Levy likes to say, Lo-Cal.

The arid park has loaned its Martian terrain to innumerable episodes of Star Trek, but on this muggy summer’s day in 1998, it’s standing in for a hillside in San Francisco, circa World War II. My old chum Levy is assistant director on director Scott King’s noir-esque cryptology thriller Treasure Island, which would go on to garner the Special Jury Award for Distinctive Vision at last year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Thanks to my pal, on this day I’m a bit-part actor–one of a couple of beat cops with nary a line between us, strapped into a vintage policeman’s uniform so uncomfortable that on the label below “Dry Clean Only” it says “M. de Sade” in Sharpie pen.

Two merciful takes later and I’m on a commuter flight back to SFO and a shuttle to Sonoma County. Levy, too, will eventually return to the county where he and a handful of other local filmmakers toil to bring their creative visions to the silver screen.

In the wake of the phenomenal success of last year’s The Blair Witch Project, independent filmmakers have more reason than ever to think big. But for every such runaway success story, there are hundreds of would-be directors struggling even to get their visions onto film, let alone into movie theaters.

Last September saw a sneak preview of Levy’s first feature, Max, 13, at Petaluma’s Phoenix Theatre. The film, a pastoral coming-of-age story about a teenage knock-about during the fateful summer before his first year of high school, was shot throughout Sonoma and Marin counties and seems to herald a new era in local filmmaking–locally grown, locally shown.

Though the 27-year-old Levy and his fellow Sonoma County filmmakers harbor loftier ambitions than local screenings, the fact remains that for most of them home is where the art is.

“I’m more akin to the artist next door to you painting landscapes than I am to a Hollywood director,” says Levy. “But it’s amazingly difficult to make films. Everything is against you, from the sun on down.”

Shot on Super 16mm film (a comparatively inexpensive wide-screen format popularized by director Mike Figgis’ Leaving Las Vegas) with a privately raised budget under $100,000, Max, 13′s principal photography was completed two years ago. The film then went through a grueling post-production period in which it was edited and scored before finally being previewed.

Mitch Altieri and Phil Flores, the duo behind Petaluma’s American White Horse Pictures, know that grind all too well. They’re in the midst of editing their first feature film, Longcut–a “ranch picture” chronicling the emotional journey of an 8-year-old girl left psychologically threadbare and mute after witnessing a brutal murder.

“Filmmaking is the ultimate challenge. It’s the worst, most horrible thing you can do to yourself,” says Flores. “It’s an endurance test.”

His partner Altieri concurs.

“It’s like self-mutilation,” Altieri says, and then wryly adds, “You’re a loser, a bum, and you have no money, but you insist on doing it.”

Camera Comrades

Alleviating some of the directors’ struggle is the support Sonoma County filmmakers offer by assisting on one another’s projects–a process many find mutually beneficial.

“I think it’s really important to work on other people’s films as well as one’s own. You really learn what and how other people are doing, which can help you in your own work,” says Levy, who has worked with most other local directors in an array of capacities, from director of photography to sound engineer.

Partners Altieri and Flores began their work as a film community of two in South San Francisco, but they happily expanded their contacts once they arrived in Sonoma County.

“Since the film industry is such a monster, it’s great to start off holding somebody’s hand,” Altieri says.

“Working with or without a partner is about the same as being an only child vs. having siblings–I’d imagine the pros and cons are the same,” Flores adds. “With a sibling, there’s someone who’s always there; you get their hand-me-downs and plenty of advice–but they’ll also put shit in your hair and plug your nose while you’re sleeping.”

Lee Cummings, a relative newcomer to the local scene (his upcoming short Imprint details a woman’s existential crisis while locked in a cell 15,000 feet underground), has enjoyed the local film community’s open embrace.

“I think it’s a lot better here than in Los Angeles,” says the 28-year-old Cummings. “I’ve been blessed to be surrounded by some amazing people. These filmmakers have been some of the most generous and outstanding people a person could be gifted to be with.”

“These guys don’t know the word stingy,” he continues. “They believe that success is built with an open hand and not a quick tongue behind someone’s back. Your success is theirs. Someone is going to make it, and we’re all riding coattails.”

Indeed, if local directors had a common ethos, it might read something like the Three Musketeers’ credo “All for one and one for all.”

“There’s no doubt that if any one of us got a gig we’d hire everyone else to be part of it,” Altieri says. “You kind of generate a miniature gang–like a Sonoma County film gang.”

Screen saver: Occidental filmmaker Max Reid cuts costs on his films by employing digital technology and computer editing.

Remote Control

Though e-mail, fax machines, Federal Express, and commuter flights help connect local filmmakers to the film industry at large, the fact remains that the art form is firmly based in Hollywood.

Veteran filmmaker Max Reid–who has made numerous films for television with such actors as Malcolm McDowell, Jason Priestly, and Kathleen Quinlan–doesn’t regret his move to Occidental from Los Angeles, though he admits that shooting in Sonoma County has its difficulties.

“You have to confront things that you normally wouldn’t have to confront. It’s a different environment,” says Reid, 55. “The advantages are basically that everyone is really open and you can work here with a lot more freedom than you can in Southern California. On the other hand, you have more difficulty finding people that are trained and experienced.”

Argentinean filmmaker Gustavo Mosquera R moved to Santa Rosa to be with his new family shortly after Moebius, his inventive foray into science fiction and political allegory set in the Buenos Aires subway system, swept up honors and critical acclaim internationally in 1997.

The move, however, has not been without its drawbacks.

“When working in Sonoma County rather than Argentina, I lose some things and gain others,” Mosquera says. “Basically, I lose all my connections with people in the industry, producers and the media in Argentina.”

The 40-year-old director–who is currently auditioning top-bill stars for a crime thriller he will direct for Hong Kong action maven John Woo’s production company–says the move has left him feeling a bit isolated.

“The first sensation is that you are away from everywhere–the most difficult thing is not being far from the nebula of Hollywood but being so far from all my old friends who helped me with my other films,” he says. “What I really like about being here, however, and being isolated in the hills, is the sense of a sort of paradise where I think much better and more long term about projects. I feel like I have more time to develop my ideas. This is my creative oasis.”

Indeed, many local directors, including Occidental’s Brian Smith, work in the county specifically for its rural charm.

“It’s the aesthetic. I especially love western Sonoma County,” says Smith, who is now in pre-production for his third feature, Dixie Blue Summer, a drama about a young woman dying of a brain tumor in a small Sonoma County town. “I’ve lived and worked here for six or seven years now, and have no interest or desire to move anywhere else.”

DV or Not DV?

A recent boon to independent and low-budget filmmakers is the advent of a new breed of digital video technology that allows for superior image quality and ease of interface with desktop editing systems that run on home computers. And it’s cheap–very cheap.

Consider that 40 minutes of digital videotape costs about $14. With processing, the same amount of Super 16mm film prices out at about $1,200 and 35mm film about $2,500. To transfer a 90-minute digital video feature to film print so it could show in theaters, however, runs the bill up to a daunting $50,000–a cost most independent DV filmmakers hope to defray by inking a distribution deal.

Levy joined the ranks of directors Spike Lee and Harmony Korine (director of the cult hit Gummo) last fall when he too began shooting his latest feature in the new medium.

It’s Alright Ma, I’m Only Trying (the working title is inspired by the Bob Dylan song “It’s Alright Ma, I’m Only Bleeding”) is about a 27 year-old emotionally retarded man who falls in love with a 15-year-old girl who is his intellectual and emotional superior.

Though Levy had scripted the film, the ease and low cost of digital video allowed his actors to improvise for long spates of time, something that would otherwise have been cost-prohibitive.

In a similar vein, Santa Rosa theater impresario Robert Pickett’s first film venture, A Divine Madness (a philosophical portrait of a community theater ensemble in the midst of a production of Anton Chekov’s The Cherry Orchard), probably would not have been possible without the inexpensive new technology.

Reid also changed his filmmaking M.O. to the digital format.

“It’s the only way to go unless your great aunt dies and leaves you $30 million,” Reid says with a laugh. “It cuts out a lot of the physical costs of feature filmmaking. My biggest cost on this last film was catering–more than half the budget, in fact.

“The real problem these days is coming up with a really good story,” says Reid, whose current project is a romantic comedy about a boy-genius time-traveler from the future who falls in love with 21st-century girl and is inspired by her ailing mother to clean up the environment.

“You can shoot a film for pennies and then it’s done,” says Reid. “Anyone can make a movie now. Digital video strips you down to basics–there aren’t any excuses anymore for not making a movie. I lot of people would say, ‘Oh, I can’t afford it,’ but the truth is you can afford it. You just have to confront the true obstacles of making a film, which is that one needs to be a real, competent artist.”

Indeed, the directors agree that ultimately it’s a film’s story that matters, not its production medium.

“What’s important is matching the story with the medium,” Mosquera says. “With The Blair Witch Project, for example, exposing the failures of the image was used to say, ‘This was made by three [people] in the forest.’ But I cannot imagine shooting Stanley Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon in digital video, for example. . . . As a director, it’s the story that should make you feel passion for the film.”

That passion, however, has to sustain the filmmakers through not only the laborious pre-production and post-production process but also the tedious, often humiliating self-marketing directors must endure when attempting to secure a deal.

Though a plethora of markets exist for independent filmmakers (including traditional theatrical distribution, cable television, video, or even the Internet), none are a sure bet, and competition is fierce.

Levy has just begun sending out tapes of Max, 13 to film festivals around the country. But he has no illusions about the odds of success. Getting accepted by festivals is tough enough when a director has a finished film, and even worse when he or she can offer only a rough cut.

“You hope for serendipity,” Levy says. “You hope that your film will be timely in some way that you didn’t expect, or that some influential person will say, ‘Hey, this is a good film.’ You have to be in the right place at the right time with the right film.”

Local Screening

Meet a local filmmaker and explore the growing connections between two of the world’s great religions on Friday and Saturday, Jan. 28 and 29, when the Sonoma Film Institute screens Jews and Buddhism: Belief Amended, Faith Revealed, a documentary co-directed by veteran Petaluma filmmaker Bill Chayes.

Some 30 percent of non-Asian-American Buddhists are Jews, and the two religions have developed a remarkable influence over each other’s practices in the United States. Chayes’ documentary, which is narrated by actress Sharon Stone, examines this phenomenon by combining interviews of believers with footage of dialogues between the Dalai Lama and Jewish scholars. Also included is archival footage of a televised encounter between David Ben Gurion and U Nu of Burma.

Chayes introduces Jews and Buddhism at 7 p.m. both days. The film will be followed by the documentary Delta Jews at 7:50 at the Darwin Theatre, Sonoma State University, 1801 E. Cotati Ave., Rohnert Park. Admission is $4. For details, call 664-2606.

From the January 27-February 2, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

‘Accomplice’

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Life Sentence

Crime doesn’t pay in ‘Accomplice’

By Daedalus Howell

IF, AS AUTHOR Graham Greene suggests, “Thrillers are like life–more like life than you are. It’s what we’ve all made of the world,” then Sonoma County Repertory Theatre’s production of Rupert Holmes’ would-be thriller-comedy Accomplice, directed by Diane Bailey, should weigh heavily on everyone’s conscience.

Intended as a comic deconstruction of the ordinary two-act thriller, Accomplice is predicated on innumerable plot twists and ends up suffering painfully from its own cleverness.

Opening at the ubiquitous “country house,” the play introduces us to a sex-starved wife (Rebecca Allington) who plots with her secret lover (Jonathan Kesser) to dispose of her rigidly conventional husband (Eric Thompson). But lo! No sooner is the trajectory of this plot established than it’s chucked for a more scintillating counterplot involving a pair of double-crossing and lip-locking wives, which is soon upgraded to a pair of double-crossing and lip-locking husbands. But wait, there’s more . . .

Indeed, this play has more plots than a cemetery. But, alas, they’re all dead. In the spirit of a whodunit, one is compelled to ask: Who killed them? The first suspect, of course, is Holmes himself, who suffocates the play with a collection of storytelling devices in which style lords it mercilessly over substance. In cahoots with the playwright is Bailey, whose usually taut directorial reins seem to have slackened with this production. Her cast is let loose to trample the dialogue with missed beats and tired segues.

Despite the misdirection, the players occasionally brighten the circuitous plot with a few moments of genuine jollity, as when Allington comically undulates beneath a duvet with Kesser, whose initially villainous incarnation in the play is part Dudley Moore, part dud. That Allington, at one point, opens a bottle of poison with her mouth is a perfect symbol of the play’s tendency to flirt with disaster.

Kudos go to actress Kori Krehbiel, who endures a ridiculous and endlessly protracted bra gag for the duration of the second act’s first scene while portraying an unsteady ingenue. Later, she dispenses some fairly comic stage business with her character’s ear-piercing vocal exercises.

Eric Thompson’s turns as a gelded husband and anguished auteur also garner some chuckles, but ultimately his talents seem squandered.

The cast’s British accents are fickle at best–one could hear better English on a billiard ball. But then we fall into one of the strange trapdoors in Accomplice: in one of the play’s myriad realities, the players are portraying poor actors in an even poorer play. Unfortunately, it’s easy to distinguish the multiple realities of the play from the singular reality experienced by those sitting in the theater’s seats–one marked by tedium and tired buns.

To complement the production’s bad-play-within-a-bad play conceit, designers Michael Mingoia and Mac McCormick have devised an incredibly garish living-room set swabbed in a hue of jaundice-yellow seldom seen outside a hepatitis clinic.

In the end, the Accomplice does not succeed in roping the audience into service as a partner in crime. Instead, the play is merely a dress rehearsal for what otherwise looks to be a promising new season for SCR.

Accomplice continues through Feb. 19, beginning at 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays, with 2 p.m. performances on Jan. 30 and Feb. 6 , at Sonoma County Repertory Theatre, 104 N. Main St., Sebastopol. $10-$15. 823-0177.

From the January 27-February 2, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Ronin Ro

Beaten to a Pulp

‘Street Sweeper’ bills itself as the first hip-hop novel, but the pulpy plot stinks

By Patrick Sullivan

GOOD NOVELS sneak up on you. The plot takes turns the reader never expects, but in the end, the author has you convinced that things couldn’t have gone any other way.

Then there’s Street Sweeper ([S]affiliated; $15.95), billed by its publisher as “the first hip-hop novel.” Here is a book that sweats marketing out every pore, from its groovy square shape to its silver-sheened cover to its author’s pseudonym, Ronin Ro. More important, here is a book that never, ever manages to surprise you. Every plot element arrives exactly on schedule–and still, despite the obvious artifice involved, nothing fits together.

How simple is the plot? Imagine a comic book without the pretty pictures and you’ll get the idea. Jerome Usher is one of the deadliest hit men ever to come out of Harlem, a high-rolling assassin whose murderous assignments fund an extravagant lifestyle full of name-brand clothing, name-brand guns, and anonymous bedmates.

Alas, this cozy arrangement is turned upside-down one fateful day when a job goes wrong and Jerome is confronted with an ugly choice. Either he rubs out a pair of witnesses, who happen to be a wounded little girl and her beautiful single mom, or he gets himself smoked by his employers. Luckily, Jerome turns out to be a ruthless killer with a heart of gold, and he plunges into a bloody struggle to protect the witnesses and earn money for a $3 million “experimental treatment” needed to help the injured girl walk again. FYI: her name is not Tiny Tim.

The writer who churned out this product wants it both ways. We’re offered a novel that wears its moral like a big wart on a little nose: killing people for money, we learn, is a bad idea. And yet the book also dwells lovingly on the minutiae of violence, offering a detailed inventory of Jerome’s gun collection and a fair number of the kind of James Bond-style shootouts that leave a trail of bodies bleeding into the dirt and our well-dressed hero merely a bit out of breath.

Even on the level of pulp, this thing doesn’t work, if only because the writing is so wretchedly bourgeois. In “Chapter Zero,” we’re taken on a tour of Jerome’s apartment, full of high-tech toys, African art, and big guns. The author sums up the decor as “tasteful and masculine.” Hey–where’d all that street language go?

Excellent books have been written about violence in the ghetto, from Geoffrey Canada’s Fist, Stick, Knife, Gun to Luis Rodriguez’s Always Running. These works of non-fiction are fueled by authenticity and genuine moral concern, two things that Street Sweeper just can’t offer. *

Virgins, Guerrillas & Locas: Gay Latinos Writing about Love Edited by Jaime Cortez (Cleis Press; $14.95)

Combing various groups of the Latin community–Puerto Ricans, Colombians, Mexicans and Chicanos–these stories range from prepubescent humor (Al Lujan’s “Strong Arms”) to first love and puberty (James Caçon’s “My Lessons with Felipe”) and maturity/acceptance of one’s self (“Sun to Sun,” by the editor).

The cover’s quasi-religious painted image of a Latin man in a wedding veil is clearly selling to people of color. The stories, however, are universal–plugging into one’s own experiences afterward is irresistible. Lujan’s bizarre memoir, a recollection of absolute blood fidelity to a molded plastic Hasbro toy, exemplifies how this anthology bends and confounds expectations.

The introduction somewhat lames the book from the outset–best to skip it. It seems to me a vehicle to sell a graspable brown-ness to white liberals; mostly it makes shaky parallels between Latinos and blacks and in the process forces their experience too much together. They are far too different for comparison. If you dodge the intro, you’ll discover true diversity,–T.M.

From the January 27-February 2, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

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Edge of Seventeen. Ohio Player A boy's coming out in Sandusky By IT'S 1984 on the coast of Ohio. Eric (Chris Stafford), who lives in the Lake Erie resort town of Sandusky, has just completed his junior year in high school. Stafford, the star of David Moreton's film Edge of...

Martha’s

Vision quest: Martha Lopez lends a personal touch to the upscale Mexican cuisine at her popular west county establishment. On Her Own Sebastopol restaurateur Martha Lopez finds a place to play house By Marina Wolf CHEFING is a transient business. There's always a better gig at the new...

Rental Housing

No room at the inn: Maceo Campbell and Michal Pincus moved to the county five years ago in search of affordable housing. Instead, they found escalating rents and landlords who charged exorbitant rates for substandardshelter. No Vacancy Tight housing market makes local rentals a competitive game By Janet Wells...

Himalayan Chhahari

x Mountain menu: Fans of Nepalese cuisine have something to rave about with the advent of Himalayan Chhahari in downtown Santa Rosa. Pictured are chef/owner Raju Mothe, Yagya Shrestha, and Sujana Shrestha. Taste Trek Savor the exotic at Himalayan Chhahari By Paula Harris THERE'S NOTHING like traveling...

Sonoma County Filmmakers

Blast from the past: Sonoma County filmmaker Abe Levy cradles the antique camera he used as a student. These days, Levy employs state-of-the-art digital technology to make his films. Reel Deal Local filmmakers shoot for the big time By Daedalus Howell "WE'RE READY for your close-up, Mr. Howell,"...

‘Accomplice’

Life Sentence Crime doesn't pay in 'Accomplice' By Daedalus Howell IF, AS AUTHOR Graham Greene suggests, "Thrillers are like life--more like life than you are. It's what we've all made of the world," then Sonoma County Repertory Theatre's production of Rupert Holmes' would-be thriller-comedy Accomplice, directed by Diane Bailey, should weigh...

Ronin Ro

Beaten to a Pulp 'Street Sweeper' bills itself as the first hip-hop novel, but the pulpy plot stinks By Patrick Sullivan GOOD NOVELS sneak up on you. The plot takes turns the reader never expects, but in the end, the author has you convinced that things couldn't have gone any other...
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