Jack Kerouac

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New CD spotlights Jack Kerouac

By Greg Cahill

HE WAS THE ultimate beat-era figure, a freewheeling hip cat who infused his footloose prose with the soaring scat-sung spirit of bebop jazz. So it’s no surprise to hear Jack Kerouac in a musical setting–the 1990 three-CD box set Poetry for the Beat Generation (Rhino) compiled his three official recordings and dished up lots of Kerouac set to the jazzy sounds of pianist Steve Allen and saxophonists Al Cohn and Zoot Sims. And plenty of contemporary musicians have been inspired to pay homage to this modern literary giant; in 1997, Morphine and a host of other alt-rockers worshipped Kerouac on the adventurous tribute CD Kerouac Kicks Joy Darkness (Rykodisc).

But there’s nothing quite like the melancholy voice of the master. And that’s what you get in spades on Jack Kerouac Reads On the Road (Ryko/Voices), a newly released CD that contains a recently discovered recording of the fallen angel himself reading passages from one of the sacred books of the beat generation. This long-lost recording session has been the stuff of legend. It’s been written about, searched for, and long thought destroyed.

It is, as historian Douglas Brinkley says in the liner notes, a “showcase for the writer as romantic crooner, lonely vagabond, prose stylist, Tin Pan Alley cut-up, hobo poet, and scat innovator.”

Recently discovered in the Kerouac archives on mislabeled acetates, the recording of Kerouac’s 1957 masterwork On the Road has been digitally remastered. It is packaged here with two poems read by Kerouac, “Orizaba 210 Blues” from the Book of Blues, and the previously unpublished “Washington D.C. Blues,” with original music composed by jazz pianist David Aram (who teamed up four years ago with British rocker Graham Parker on a stunning reading of Kerouac’s 1950 opus The Town and the City, which was included on A Jack Kerouac ROMnibus, a CD-ROM overview on the writer).

The new disc also features musical tracks recorded by Kerouac, including a couple of Chet Baker-like renderings of the standards “Ain’t We Got Fun,” “Come Rain or Shine,” “When a Woman Loves a Man,” and “Leavin’ Town,” all sung in a mostly (sometimes excruciatingly) wispy, gin-soaked style.

The choice musical track is “On the Road,” a wistful Kerouac original that gets a garagy reprise by dada crooner Tom Waits backed by the members of Primus.

But the real gem here is Kerouac. As with much of his best writing, the On the Road disc evokes a relaxed comfort, a quiet charm that has endeared the writer to a new generation in search of the quintessential traveling companion.

For restless souls, the king of the road is someone you can always come home to.

Random note: A companion to the new Kerouac release on the Ryko/Voices imprint also is on the market. San Francisco beat icon, celebrated publisher, and City Lights bookstore owner Lawrence Ferlinghetti reads his 1958 classic A Coney Island of the Mind–actually a series of 29 poems–along with four additional works, all set to the accompaniment of Dana Colley of Morphine and others. Recorded earlier this year at Francis Ford Coppola’s Zoetrope Studio, the new CD serves as a reawakening as it warns against the perils of hyperindustrialization, unrestricted capitalism, and Big Brother fascism, often delivered with wry wit.

From the October 14-20, 1999 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Bargain Wines

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The Price Is Right

Local experts select bargain bottlings

By Bob Johnson

WHILE the “laws” of supply and demand play a pivotal role in determining price points on Sonoma County’s most famous product–wine–several other factors also contribute to the ever escalating tariffs.

Among those factors: the increasing value of suitable vineyard land, more stringent controls on hillside vine planting, and competition among out-of-county wineries for Sonoma-grown grapes.

As a result, a growing number of county bottlings are joining their Napa Valley cousins in a price category largely restricted to the affluent.

That’s the bad news. The good news is that it’s still possible to purchase a quality case of wine here for less than a hundred bucks–if you don’t mind that a majority of the dozen bottles are made by out-of-county (and in a couple of instances, out-of-country) wineries.

Finding bargain bottlings can be a time-consuming challenge even for those immersed in winedom. But since daily life consists of numerous activities other than shopping for wine, the assistance of a knowledgeable vino merchant can be tremendously helpful.

Fortunately, Sonoma County has no shortage of in-the-know retailers, among them Dan Noreen of the Wine Exchange of Sonoma, Michael Pinsky of Premier Wine & Spirits in Santa Rosa, Bruce Emmons of Santa Rosa’s Bottle Barn, and Paul Root of Root & Eastwood Wine & Spirits in Healdsburg.

We challenged each of these savvy shopkeepers to suggest a pair of wines, available in their store, that together averaged no more than $8.33 in price. We then tossed in four selections of our own to fill out the case. The result: 12 top-quality bottles of wine that would return $2.26 in change from your $100 bill (not counting the donation made to our friends in Sacramento).

Drum roll, please . . .

Presenting the Independent‘s Under-$100 Case of Wine, No. 1:

Mont. Pellier 1998 Viognier, California. Noreen says this wine has “loads of tropical fruit with lovely floral nuances. It’s lush on the palate, with just the right balancing acidity.”$5.99 at Wine Exchange of Sonoma.

Mont. Pellier 1997 Syrah, California. “There’s ripe blackberry, plum, smoke, and white pepper in the nose,” says Noreen, “and the wine is round, rich, and smoky on the palate.” $5.99 at the Wine Exchange.

Banrock Station 1998 Shiraz. Pinsky describes this Aussie offering as “a surprising wine, with nice, soft, plummy fruit. Hints of violets add a gentle complexity.” $6.99 at Premier Wine & Spirits.

Paraiso Springs 1997 Chardon-nay, Monterey. Enthuses Emmons: “This is a $20 wine for eight bucks.” Or less: $7.99 at the Bottle Barn.

Canyon Road 1998 Merlot, California. This wine has a smoked meat nose, racy acidity, and varietal bell pepper, cherry, and plum flavors. Wine Lines rating: 2.5 corks. Suggested retail price: $8.

Marietta Old Vine Lot #23. Root describes this non-vintage red blend as “incredibly delicious,” and notes that past lots have consistently been rated outstanding values. $8.10 per bottle (by the case) at Root & Eastwood Wine & Spirits.

Taft Street 1998 Sauvignon Blanc. A wine with “vibrant fruitiness and a clean, delicious finish,” according to Root. $8.10 per bottle (by the case) at Root & Eastwood.

Alderbrook 1998 GewŸrztra-miner, Russian River Valley. Winner of the white wine sweepstakes award at the Sonoma County Harvest Fair. $8.59 at the Bottle Barn.

Pope Valley 1993 Zinfandel, Napa Valley. Yes, you read that correctly; here’s a rare opportunity to taste a well-aged zin. The winery’s former owners shut down the operation just as this wine was about to be released, so it sat in storage for a total of five years until new owners reopened the facility. Time has been kind to this bottling, which possesses aromas and flavors of spicy root beer, cherry, assorted berries, and pepper. Wine Lines rating: 3.5 corks. Suggested retail price: $9.

Chateau St. Jean 1998 Fume Blanc, Sonoma County. A wine with aromas and flavors of ripe stone fruit, grapefruit, fig, mild spice, and hints of minerals. Wine Lines rating: 3 corks. Suggested retail price: $9.

Caves des Papes 1996 Cotes du Rhone. “This [French] wine is smooth, with round flavors and a light, peppery finish,” says Pinsky. “It’s perfect for grilled foods.” $8.99 at Premier.

Mark West 1998 Gewurztra-miner, Russian River Valley. Bright and floral, with lychee nut, peach, papaya, mango, and woodspice components. The creamy finish screams “papaya.” Wine Lines rating: 3.5 corks. Suggested retail price: $10.

There you have it: Six red wines, six white wines, a wide spectrum of flavors, and, best of all, tremendous value. The choice is yours: a single bottle of trendy Napa Valley cabernet or 12 bottles of well-selected wines recommended by local experts. As far as we’re concerned, this is the ultimate no-brainer.

Cork ratings: 1, commercially sound; 2, good; 3, very good; 4, outstanding.

From the October 7-13, 1999 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Jubilant Sykes

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Baritone Jubilant Sykes offers a rainbow of talent

By Hanne Blank

THE RUSSIAN COMPOSER Scriabin was a synaesthete, a person whose mental wiring made one sense automatically trigger another. In Scriabin’s case, as with numerous other composers, sounds corresponded to colors: a flute might be robin’s-egg blue, the violin grass-green, a kettledrum’s boom the gray of low-hanging clouds. Each timbre or tone color was associated with an actual color, and as a result, Scriabin literally saw everything he heard or composed.

Had Scriabin lived to hear the voice of rising young baritone Jubilant Sykes, however, he wouldn’t have seen just one color. In the exultant rainbow of Sykes’ broad, generous voice, he would’ve found an entire kaleidoscope within one instrument, a stained-glass window of spinning sound.

A rare vocal find, this versatile voice effortlessly spans the coloristic gamut from the cellolike, woody timbres of Mahler and Brahms to the most elegant and unpretentious of floaty tenor falsetto.

Unlike many of his opera-singing kin, Sykes does not appear to suffer the tendency to become hidebound with a perfectly homogenized sound that varies only slightly from piece to piece. Rather, he knows that the infinite variety of his vocal color is a source of enormous beauty, and he wields his vocal palette with a Monet-like sensitivity to transparency, intensity, and contrast, conjuring Impressionist gestures of feeling and emotion within deftly shaped phrases.

Masterful though it is, Sykes’ singing is anything but intimidating. As a musician, he offers performances that are communicative, charismatic, and inviting. The emotional immediacy of his style owes an obvious but not obtrusive debt to gospel and jazz, combined with classical technique in a resonant American hybrid.

Likewise delightfully American are the clean translucence of Sykes’ tone and his delightfully clear but never prissy diction, which let the listener hear not just the undeniable beauty of his sound, but the full import of every word he sings.

IN HIS RENDITIONS of Aaron Copland’s Old American Songs, which include such gems as the Shaker hymn “Simple Gifts” and the humorous “Bought Me a Cat,” Sykes has won acclaim for his clarity of presentation and his good-humored, deeply felt, approachably human partnership with the composer, the settings, and the melodies themselves. Selections from this group of Copland songs, along with works by Mozart and Mahler, are slated for the program during the October recitals Sykes performs with the Santa Rosa Symphony, promising rewards for the newcomer to the world of concert song as well as for seasoned fans.

Also on the roster for Sykes’ West Coast recitals are spirituals, hearkening not only to Sykes’ own family heritage of song and spirituality but to the 1998 Sony Classical release Jubilant, a collaboration with legendary jazz trumpeter and arranger Terence Blanchard that presents classic spirituals in reverent, New Orleans-tinged arrangements. A quick perusal of Jubilant‘s 14 tracks–“Were You There When They Crucified My Lord?” is stunning–gives ample insight into the reasons Sykes was named Sacred Music USA’s Vocalist of the Year in 1996, as well as the reasons he continues to perform to rave reviews with the world’s leading symphonies and opera companies, including the Metropolitan Opera, the Boston Pops, the Philadelphia Orchestra, and the Deutsche Oper Berlin.

FROM BRILLIANT, easy top notes to a powerful, velvety bottom, Sykes’ first solo recording proves that he is in strong command of his versatile instrument. What is perhaps more impressive about Jubilant, and about Jubilant the singer, is that while one never loses sight of the fact that this is an extraordinary voice, one is always aware that this is an intelligent and insightful musician.

The running joke other musicians make about singers is that they’ve got resonance where their brains should be: not so Jubilant Sykes. When he sings, the words matter. Some of Sykes’ operatic colleagues may use words as mere clotheslines on which to hang sheets of sound, but Sykes uses the words as a way to penetrate the music.

Sykes draws, without apology and with great musical wisdom, on all of the musical influences that are important in his life. The result is stylish but kitsch-free, intimate, virtuosic, richly colorful singing, a musical treat as delectable as they come.

Jubilant Sykes performs Saturday, Sunday, and Monday, Oct. 16-18, at the opening concerts of the Santa Rosa Symphony’s 1999-2000 season at the Luther Burbank Center, 50 Mark West Springs Road, Santa Rosa. Tickets are $12-$36. For details, call 546-8742.

From the October 7-13, 1999 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Sculpture Jam

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Photograph by Michael Amsler

Free Form

Sculpture Jam turns 3-D art loose on Sebastopol

By Patrick Sullivan

THE THIRD DIMENSION is, by definition, vital to the art of sculpture. You can’t hang most of the work produced by Rodin or Calder conveniently up on a wall behind your couch, and The Kiss or Gate of Hell will never seem like discreetly decorative accessories. Sculpture sticks up, bulges out, and thrusts its way forward into the world.

In short, the art form tends to take up space.

Now, thanks to the Sebastopol City Council, it has all the room it could want. Just in time for the Sebastopol Center for the Arts’ second annual Sculpture Jam, the council has approved four city-owned sites to publicly display six works to be produced by 22 local sculptors during the event.

Sculpture Jam, which takes place this year from Oct. 7 to Oct. 9, features six groups of artists, including such luminaries as Ron Rodgers and the event’s founder, Warren Arnold, wielding their hammers,chisels, and PVC pipe in full view of the curious public.

The event, which last year drew some 1,200 people over three days to the old Diamond Lumber Yard on the plaza, is intended to give observers a chance to watch sculptors at work, to give folks a better idea of the how and the who behind the art of sculpture.

But Sculpture Jam also gives normally solitary artists a rare opportunity to collaborate with others–which apparently takes a little adjustment in some cases, according to Linda Galletta, executive director of the Sebastopol Center for the Arts.

“It’s been a challenge for the sculptors because they are such an individual lot,” Galletta says. “They spend a lot of time in the studio by themselves and they normally create by themselves, so to work with other artists is a challenge.”

But it’s apparently a challenge they enjoy: One of the participating sculptors told Galletta that solitary work had left him “feeling like a caveman” and that Sculpture Jam had given him an opportunity to “come out of his cave and work with other people.” Perhaps that’s why, of the 11 artists who participated in last year’s event, nine have returned.

“They’re very energized by it,” Galletta says. “They love having the public watch them work and learn about the process. They have developed wonderful friendships that lasted beyond [last year’s] event, and now many of them are sharing ideas and techniques.”

But this time out, the event will look different in one crucial respect: more women will be participating. Last year, there was only one female artist working among the cavemen. This year, there are two teams of women sculptors on the job.

“We made a real concerted attempt to broaden our horizons and make sure that women sculptors knew that they were invited to participate,” Galletta says. “They were last year, but they seemed to hang back a bit.”

Sites for the placement of the six sculptures–which will range from four to 14 feet in height–include the downtown plaza; a corner in front of Sebastopol Cinemas; the Sebastopol Fire Department; and Spooner Park, the triangular piece of land near Palm Drive Hospital where the four pieces created last year are now on display.

SUPPORT FOR THE EVENT comes from a variety of sources: The sculptors contribute time and materials, Sebastopol Redimix donated concrete for bases, and the Sonoma County Community Foundation helped underwrite the cost of materials and installation.

But it’s the City Council’s commitment to providing public space that may be the most crucial. The idea, Galletta says, is for the Sculpture Jam, which will return next year, to become the city’s major public art program.

“[The council has] encouraged us to continue looking for sites in Sebastopol both public and private to continue this program,” Galletta says. “They are excited about having art in Sebastopol and having it be an interesting place to visit and linger and think about.”

Sculpture Jam takes place Thursday, Oct. 7, from 1 to 7 p.m., and on Friday and Saturday, Oct. 8 and 9, from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. at the old Diamond Lumber Yard on Sebastopol Plaza. Admission is free. Call 829-4797.

From the October 7-13, 1999 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Missile Intercept Technology

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More useless missiles. Guess who pays?

By Bob Harris

LAST SATURDAY NIGHT, I was walking to a comedy gig here in L.A. when suddenly I was stopped cold by the sight of something truly out of the ordinary. (Which, in West Hollywood, is saying something.) A whole chunk of the northwestern sky was suddenly filled with what looked like an enormous jet contrail. And as night began to fall, the plume dispersed into bizarre shapes, lit in rainbow colors by the setting sun.

And it was a little disturbing.

Enough so that dozens of people called the police, asking if they were seeing a prelude to war, some weird secret technology, or possibly even the beginning of Armageddon.

What we were all watching was the launch of a refurbished Minuteman II missile (made by Lockheed Martin), outfitted with both a dummy warhead and a decoy. The Pentagon says that 3,000 miles away, a prototype missile defense system eventually destroyed the dummy warhead–meaning that supposedly the world is now a little safer for democracy, and so we taxpayers should pony up another $28 billion to keep the project alive.

Yet over the years, expectations for success in such tests have become so low that the original mission of such weapons has been abandoned entirely, and the Pentagon openly admits that even a failure would have been called a success, if the reason for the failure were merely known.

On March 23, 1983, Ronald Reagan announced the Strategic Defense Initiative, a satellite-based anti-ballistic missile system to shield the United States from nuclear attack.

Fortunately for world peace, much Star Wars technology proved to be remarkably little more than a waste of money. Eventually, even the Pentagon conceded that a comprehensive nuclear umbrella was an impossibility. In other words, even if the SDI had worked, it wouldn’t have worked.

In 1993, the SDI was renamed the Ballistic Missile Defense, but the BMD still sucked up only about $4 billion a year. However, in 1994, the GOP won control of Congress, and Newt Gingrich became Speaker of the House. The largest employer in Newt’s home district? Lockheed.

Unsurprisingly, the budget for Star Wars began again to increase, even as the Office of Technology Assessment was defunded out of existence.

The new Star Wars–now conceived around ground-based missiles–is designed not to shield the U.S. from all-out attack, but merely defend against a mere handful of missiles hypothetically launched by terrorists or by what the media call “rogue states.”

But is this a legitimate rationale for continuing BMD? Not according to our own government.

Quoting from a September 1999 report of the National Intelligence Council: “The Russian threat . . . will continue to be the most robust and lethal, considerably more so than that posed by China, and orders of magnitude more than that potentially posed by other nations.”

Countries or non-state actors could pursue non-missile delivery options. And even if a “rogue state” did decide to go the ICBM route (again, to quote the NIC’s own report), “We assess that countries developing ballistic missiles would also develop various responses to U.S. theater and national defenses. Russia and China each have developed numerous countermeasures and probably are willing to sell the requisite technologies.”

How many times should a system be tested before the taxpayers spend billions of dollars on it? Many relatively simple weapons receive dozens of tests. Before its next review in June, the BMD program is receiving exactly three–only two of which it is required to pass (and remember that an understood failure is considered a success).

So come summer, will it gain approval? Of course. Get real.

June of 2000 will be at the peak of the presidential campaign. No candidate will want to look “weak” on defense. Neither can any candidate resist the soft-money campaign donations that major defense contractors can provide.

A SIMILAR MISSILE intercept technology, Lockheed Martin’s THAAD (Theatre High Altitude Area Defense) system, failed six straight tests over the last four years while going billions of dollars over budget. However, last August, after a mere two successful tests in tightly controlled conditions, the Pentagon announced it would skip further prototype testing and begin final development of the project.

THAAD’s total cost is estimated at only $15.4 billion, with 2007 as the projected implementation date. And BMD is ready to cost us $28 billion more. Since 1983, between $50 billion and $100 billion has been spent. Yet Star Wars turned out to be impossible, and the current scheme of BMD doesn’t even address the most likely scenario for attack.

Will the new Star Wars do the job?

If we’re talking about maintaining the flow of billions of dollars of taxpayer money to high-tech defense corporations, the answer is: yes.

If we’re talking about defending the United States from ballistic missile attack, the answer is: no.

From the October 7-13, 1999 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Vineyard Development Ordinance

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Sign of the times: Supervisor Mike Reilly sat in front of a protest sign at a recent forum called by activists to oppose encroaching vineyards.

Feeling the Crush

New vineyard-planting ordinance–is it a smart compromise or a sellout?

by Yosha Bourgea

A CONTROVERSIAL new erosion-control ordinance that regulates the planting of vineyards on sloped land has been reworded once again by the Sonoma County Board of Supervisors, but some environmental activists in the community claim that the ordinance still gives far too much leeway to local grape growers.

A much-anticipated public hearing, scheduled for Tuesday, Oct. 12, will provide a forum for citizens to express their concerns to the board on what has become one of the most emotionally charged issues in local politics: the impact of the wine industry on Sonoma County.

The Vineyard Development Ordinance, formerly known as the Vineyard Planting and Replanting Ordinance, grew out of an agreement reached between environmentalists and grape growers after one and a half years of intense negotiation. It was designed to establish riparian setbacksÑor minimum distances from the edge of streams, creeks and riversÑto prevent soil from muddying waterways and degrading fish habitats during winter storms.

The new revisions on the heels of two recent meetings at which hundreds of west county activists and residents gathered to discuss ways to curtail the effects of vineyard developments, including increased pesticide use, damage to native oak forests, the reduction of apple orchards and other farmlands, and the depletion of local aquifers.

The original ordinance, adopted June 15, included references to standards for erosion and sedimentation control, but didn’t specify them. At the time, the board planned to have the county agriculture department develop and adopt those standards separately later in the summer. The ordinance was supposed to go into effect on Oct. 1.

But as that date grew closer, it became clear that the standards would not be in place by the deadline. Sonoma County Conservation Action president Mark Green, who was involved in the negotiation process, says that red tape and inexperience were partly to blame. “Government sometimes takes a while to do things,” Green says.

“I will say that I’m disappointed, but I understand that it’s a new program for the agricultural office. They need to find a staffer to do this job, and that person has not been hired yet.”

On Sept. 21, the board, led by Supervisor Mike Reilly, voted to postpone the ordinance again, this time until Dec. 2. In the interim, a moratorium has been placed on new vineyard development with the exception of Level I vineyards–those planted on land with a predevelopment average slope of less than 10 percent (for erodible soils) or less than 15 percent (for non-erodible soils), though local activists have claimed that there is a rash of planting on steeper slopes in an effort to beat the deadlines.

“Functionally, the odds are good that [growers] won’t plant anyway, because it could rain any day now,” Green says. “Water Control and Fish & Game fines could be considerable if [the soil from] vineyards ends up in creeks.”

Photograph by Michael Amsler

BUT the ordinance continues to draw fire from environmentalists who contend that its wording is biased in favor of the wine industry. Sebastopol activist Ann Maurice says that a loophole in the ordinance allows growers to tweak the average slope percentage in order to qualify their vineyards as Level I.

“The new ordinance is more obscene than the other,” Maurice says. “This thing is so preposterous you want to just tell them to stick it.”

In addition, Maurice says, the ordinance puts too much power in the hands of the county agricultural commissioner, a position held by John Westoby. Under the ordinance, growers are required to notify the commissioner in writing before they begin work on a site, so that he can determine whether the vineyard qualifies as Level I. But if the commissioner has not made that determination within 30 days, the vineyard is automatically classified as Level I and the grower is free to develop the site.

As Maurice points out, the commissioner is not legally obligated to make an official determination. If a grower’s notice sits on his desk for 30 days, for whatever reason, the vineyard is approved by default. What makes this especially repugnant, she says, is that the ordinance makes all the commissioner’s decisions final, and not subject to appeal.

“We want to protect the ag commissioner from having to take bribes,” Maurice says with a blunt laugh.

Reilly, who has worked closely on the shaping of the ordinance, says that the intent of the 30-day limit was not to foster bribery or cronyism, but to protect growers from having to wait indefinitely for government approval. Like any crop, wine grapes are time-sensitive, and Reilly says growers wanted assurance that there would be action within a reasonable time.

“I’m going to ask for the ag commissioner to report back to the board if he can’t make a determination,” Reilly says. “If he doesn’t act within the time frame, that needs to be public knowledge. If there’s a pattern of underevaluation, it can be addressed.”

Of greater concern, Reilly says, is the wording that classifies any replanting as Level I. “Replanting can mean tearing out 100 percent of [an existing] vineyard,” he says. “If the purpose [of the ordinance] is erosion control, replantings could pose as serious a threat as new plantings.”

ALTHOUGH environmental activists are less than satisfied with the provisions of the ordinance, many regard it as a two-steps-forward, one-step-back situation.

“This is an incremental gain,” says Friends of the Russian River representative Joan Vilms, also a member of the committee that negotiated with growers to create the original ordinance. “It puts something on the books for the first time.”

The riparian setbacks and slope limitations may be insufficient, she says, but they’re better than nothing.

Meanwhile, the wine industry continues to thrive. As demand for Sonoma County wines increases, more and more farmers are giving up less profitable crops to take advantage of soaring grape prices. And industry giant Kendall-Jackson’s recent purchase of a 500-acre dairy ranch on the Marin/Sonoma border –once considered unsuitable for grapes–highlights the aggressive expansion of vintners into undeveloped areas of the county–and the potential for new impacts on a marginal industry that may not be able to withstand the onslaught of vineyards.

“This area has been changed more in five years than it has in the last 100,” local activist Kurt Erickson says. “The postcards will soon be out of date.”

From the October 7-13, 1999 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Susan Faludi

Man Trouble

Author Susan Faludi says American men are an endangered species

By Patrick Sullivan

“BOOK TOURS are strange things,” says author Susan Faludi with a weary laugh. “Every 15 minutes you’re starting over again.” But it may be a while before Faludi gets any respite from the besieging ring of interviewers. The Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist and feminist, perhaps best known as the author of the best-selling Backlash: The Undeclared War against American Women, is in high demand once again, sailing from television talk shows to news magazines and back again with a provocative new message that the mainstream media seem both helpless to ignore and deeply reluctant to accept.

Back in 1991, Backlash generated howls of outrage in some circles for its argument that women’s struggle for equality was running up against a political and social counterattack of monstrous proportions and effect. Now, in Stiffed: The Betrayal of the American Man (Morrow;$27.50), Faludi is back with a startling new thesis: Men, says the feminist author, are also getting a raw deal.

The book, which was some six years in the making, is built around Faludi’s in-depth interviews with a wide range of American guys, from downsized aerospace engineers to Waco-obsessed militia members to Cleveland Browns’ fans to gangbangers from South Central. Even Sylvester Stallone, Details magazine, and a visit to the set of a porn movie make it into the mix.

Despite the diversity of her interview subjects, Faludi–who speaks on Oct. 15 at Sonoma State University–found that American men seem to have at least one thing in common: a painful identity crisis.

“The theme I heard struck again and again was ‘I don’t feel useful in society,’ ” says the 40-year-old Faludi, speaking by phone from a hotel room in New York City. “And that sense of social utility, where you make a meaningful contribution to your family, to your community, where you work with other men–that’s historically where manhood’s been grounded.”

But that source of masculine identity, the author argues, is increasingly uncertain in a contemporary America beset by layoffs, deindustrialization, and–perhaps most significantly in Faludi’s eyes–a cultural shift toward the glittery new world of media spectacle, a world populated by superathletes, action heroes, and Viagra studs.

“What’s happening is that we’re becoming more and more of a commercially driven consumer culture that’s all about celebrity and image and being a winner all by yourself,” Faludi says.

“So many of men I talked to,” she adds, “felt that there was no middle ground anymore. Either you were this winner on display who just dominated everything and was larger than life and had the biggest muscles and drove the biggest car, or you were a nobody, a loser.”

American men, in short, have been betrayed–neglected by their emotionally distant fathers, sold short by a celebrity-obsessed media culture, and sucked down by the treacherous quagmire of the postmodern economy.

If only Nixon could go to China, then maybe only a certified feminist like Faludi could write Stiffed. Certainly a man making these arguments could easily sound like a whiner, a sore loser, or an Angry White Male. But, then again, Faludi’s credentials haven’t shielded her from intense criticism.

“This woman is clearly on a mission: Find a soft place in the collective male self-esteem and drive at it until the lance runs red,” declared one writer in an Esquire article, before going on to add that he didn’t feel stiffed and didn’t know any men who did.

“Well, that guy hadn’t even read the book!” Faludi says indignantly. “You know, that’s part of the problem with our culture, where we have people writing reviews of books they have not seen. I mean, that’s a little bizarre, I think.”

But the author has encountered similar criticisms during her frequent forays into the male-dominated world of the TV talk show. One of her pet peeves is interviewers who explain to her that a quick survey of their male colleagues in the green room didn’t turn up anybody who felt betrayed by American culture.

“You just can’t take a man on the street survey and expect to get anything particularly revealing,” Faludi says. “One has to really know the men you’re talking about, and the men have to feel comfortable talking before you get any kind of honest grappling with what’s really going on with them.”

That kind of immersion served as Faludi’s primary method of collecting the material for Stiffed. She began by plunging deep into the fractured world of a group of Southern California men in financial and emotional crisis, spending hours, days, even years talking to them and tracking their progress through unemployment centers, Promise Keepers’ meetings, and domestic-violence counseling groups.

She hung out with the adolescent members of the Spur Posse, a high school gang that won a fleeting media notoriety by competing for points in a contest focused on who could have sex with the most girls. She went down to the shooting range to fire off a shotgun with Michael McNulty, an unemployed insurance salesman who was one of the creative forces behind the documentary Waco: The Rules of Engagement. And she talked extensively with actor Sylvester Stallone, trying to unravel the knotty riddle of his troubled relationship with both his movie career and his abusive father.

“I actually spent a fair amount of time with him, because it was at a moment where he was really questioning his persona as an action hero and was trying to retreat from the action market for a while,” Faludi says. “He was quite open and interested in talking about masculinity.”

Some readers may be surprised by the amount of empathy–even affection–that Faludi clearly has for most (though not all) of these men. Combining finely honed reportorial skills with graceful prose, she lays out their troubled lives in largely sympathetic terms.

That very sympathy has opened Faludi to another kind of criticism. Some reviewers have said that she’s too soft on men, that she’s letting the perpetrators of domestic violence off the hook, or even that Stiffed amounts to a betrayal of feminism. But the author urges anyone who believes that to take another look.

“It’s a very feminist book. It’s attempting to apply feminist analysis to men,” Faludi says. “I mean, I understand the impulse among women to say, ‘Oh, boo-hoo. Men–who cares about their pain? But it’s not a very productive response. It comes out of the frustration a lot of women feel in the workplace where they see that all the top spots are taken by men, or at home, where they feel that their husbands are not carrying their fair share of the domestic load. But the truth is that . . . most men are in quite a powerless position in society.”

STILL, FALUDI SAYS she does take the issue of male violence very seriously. Indeed, she points to the long list of recent killing sprees in America’s public schools and office buildings as perhaps the most lethal consequences of the male identity crisis.

“One thing that interests me is that so many of the discussions about schoolyard shootings are about ‘What are we providing that may be inciting this violence? Is it video games? Is it dirty movies? Is it action flicks?’ ” Faludi says.

“When maybe,” she concludes, “what we should be asking is ‘What are we not providing?’ And that’s a society for young men to grow up into where they feel they have a real stake and something of substance to offer.”

But make no mistake: Faludi has no desire to return to some mythical ’50s paradise of white picket fences and rigid gender roles.

As she writes in Stiffed, “Because as men struggle to free themselves from their crisis, their task is not, in the end, to figure out how to be masculine–rather, their masculinity lies in figuring out how to be human.”

Susan Faludi appears on Friday, Oct. 15, at 8 p.m. at SSU, Evert Person Theatre, 1801 E. Cotati Ave., Rohnert Park. Tickets are $10 and are available at Copperfield’s Books. For details, call 664-2353.

From the October 7-13, 1999 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

‘Jakob the Liar’

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Rabbi Naomi Levy pans ‘Jakob the Liar’

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

“HAVE YOU ever heard of the Chelm stories?” asks Rabbi Naomi Levy, in a gentle, lilting voice so soft and quiet I have to press the telephone against my ear to hear it.

“Um, Helm stories?” I ask.

“Chelm,” Levy repeats. “They’re very famous, very humorous stories in the Jewish folkloric tradition. Chelm is a little European town made up entirely of simpletons, and the stories tell about the funny, foolish things the townspeople do.”

“Chelm,” I repeat. It’s a warm word, like a mouthful of fresh dough. I jot a quick note to myself, in the paperback margin of Levy’s best-selling, wonderfully autobiographical “guidebook” To Begin Again: The Journey toward Comfort, Strength, and Faith in Difficult Times (Ballantine; $12.95).

“Check out Chelm,” I write, anticipating the rich post-conversation Internet-search that will follow our post-film conversation.

Rabbi Levy is the former rabbi of Temple Mishkon Tephilo, in Venice, Calif. She was the first female Conservative rabbi to lead a congregation on the West Coast, stepping down from the pulpit only last year to raise her two children.

We’ve reached out and touched each other this afternoon, long distance, to discuss the new Robin Williams film Jakob the Liar, a manic-depressive Holocaust comedy-drama (uh huh, a Holocaust comedy, like Life Is Beautiful, only with Robin Williams).

Critically vilified–and not a great performer at the box office, either–Jakob is about the starving, suicidal denizens of an unnamed Nazi-enforced Jewish ghetto, somewhere in Poland in the last days of World War II, who miraculously regain a glimmer of hope and dignity after Jakob, a widowed pancake-maker played by Williams, begins to spread little white lies about an imminent arrival of Allied troops. It is assumed that Jakob must have a secret illegal radio from which he receives his “news.” As the lies build to absurd levels–Jakob claims he can hear the approach of Allied tanks on his fictional radio, insisting that they must be American tanks because Benny Goodman’s orchestra is also heard, sent along to play as the forces engage the German Army–the ghetto’s suicide rate sees a sudden dramatic drop.

Levy didn’t like it.

“It was part Life Is Beautiful and part Good Morning Vietnam,” she says, “and by the end it had turned into Braveheart.”

A strange mix indeed.

“I agree with the idea,” she continues, “that it’s important to retain hope, and that even in the darkest circumstances, even when your hope is based on a lie, it can literally save lives.

“But I thought it was executed in a way that made the people seem simple-minded.”

It is here that Levy invokes the name of Chelm, with its beloved population of simpletons. This, I have since learned (I did do my research), is a group of people so fundamentally unwise that once, after dragging a thousand fresh-cut logs from the top of a nearby mountain–and after hearing that they might have done better by rolling the logs down instead of dragging them–the people of Chelm all banded together to drag the logs back up top of the mountain so that they could properly roll them back down again.

Then there’s the one about the addled fellow who, accidentally turned around on a trip to Warsaw, mistakenly ends up back home in Chelm–and assumes that Warsaw is an exact copy of his hometown, right down to the mysterious strangers who look just like his wife and children.

“To me, Jakob the Liar was almost as absurd as that,” says Levy, “only it was the victims of the Nazi ghettos that were being portrayed, not the people of Chelm. The people who ended up believing Jakob’s lies ended up looking silly and foolish.

“It turned the victims into fools,” she softly murmurs, “and turned the nightmare of the Holocaust into a fairy tale.”

IN LEVY’S BOOK, mingled with inspiring stories of people she’s known, the author describes her own nightmare. At the age of 15, she lost her father when he was shot by a thief on the streets of New York. It was a loss she reacted to by distancing herself from her father’s faith in God.

“On the day my father died,” she writes, “God died too.”

Rabbi Levy’s journey back to God is the story of harsh despair turned eventually back into hope.

“To live in this world, to carry on, we all need a degree of hope,” Levy acknowledges. “Hope that people are basically good, hope that things are going to be OK, hope that there is something worth striving for, hope that there’s a reason to get out of bed in the morning.”

“The irony of Jakob,” I remark, “is that the all-important, life-sustaining hope turns out to be a lie.”

“I think hope is often a lie,” Levy replies. “It didn’t bother me that hope was a lie. What bothered me was that hope was such a blatant lie.”

“Wait,” I interject. “Hope is often a lie?”

This hardly sounds, well, scriptural.

“We deny our mortality all the time, in order to go on living,” Levy explains. “A certain sense of denial is required to live in this world. If we were looking at the statistics realistically, we’d never drive another car, or cross a street, or get married, or do anything.

“In a way, all hope is a denial of reality, so that we can maintain our faith in something, faith in the beauty of this existence, faith in love, faith in God,” she adds. “I do think that life is cruel. I also think it’s our job to enjoy life anyway.”

“And how do we do that?” I ask.

“We do it the way the heroic people in the real ghettos and camps did it,” she answers.

“We hold on to hope, any hope, even the simple hope that somehow tomorrow will be better than today.”

From the October 7-13, 1999 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

‘Watermelon Nights’

Watermelon Nights is pulling author Greg Sarris back to his native Santa Rosa.

Photograph by Janet Orsi

Live Action

Word for Word stages Greg Sarris’ ‘Watermelon Nights’

By Patrick Sullivan

“IT’S LIKE GOING BACK to a family, or back to an old lover, where all the emotions are raw again,” says acclaimed novelist Greg Sarris. “Santa Rosa to me is full of ghosts. . . . All of the stuff that’s buried under all those subdivisions rises up and talks to me.”

Though he grew up in Sonoma County, Sarris now lives and works in Los Angeles, where he teaches at UCLA. But an upcoming theatrical staging at Santa Rosa Junior College of Watermelon Nights, his critically acclaimed 1998 novel set in Santa Rosa, is pulling Sarris back to his childhood home.

Of course, the author–perhaps best known for Grand Avenue, his 1994 collection of interwoven short stories that became an HBO movie–visits the county often. But seeing his work put before a local audience is something different, an experience that Sarris finds both gratifying and terrifying.

“Santa Rosa was my home until I was 19,” he says. “What I write about comes from those first years of my life, so I go back and wonder if those folks will like it.”

Director Leslie McCauley and Word for Word, the San Francisco-based theatrical troupe that is preparing to stage a chapter from Watermelon Nights, would have been hard-pressed to find a more dramatic portion than the one they chose.

“Does anybody know what love is?” asks John, the chapter’s narrator. “Can a person know before he’s smashed like an almond in the jaws of a nutcracker?”

Johnny is a young man in conflict over his family, his sexuality, and his relationship with the Indian community in which he lives. He is one of the novel’s three main characters, each from a different generation of a Pomo Indian family that takes an eventful (and often heartbreaking) ride through the 20th century.

Before Chapter 5 is over, Johnny gets an answer to his plaintive question, albeit not the one he wants, after a devastatingly painful series of events that turn his world upside down. The chapter’s passion and the conflict offer dramatic possibilities that are hard to miss, and so does the author’s brutally honest dialogue.

“I’m writing about people who don’t particularly give a damn about standard English and propriety,” Sarris says. “The concerns of my characters are very different.”

But dramatic possibilities and frank language aside, staging a chapter from a novel seems like a hard thing to get right, especially when you do it the way Word for Word does–literally word for word. Indeed, the first time the troupe adapted a work by Sarris (they staged his short story “Slaughterhouse”), the author himself had his doubts.

“I kind of had my heart in my throat,” Sarris says. “I didn’t know what to expect. I thought it might be kind of corny. But I was blown away. They pulled it off brilliantly.”

Pleased by the results, Sarris went on to grant the troupe permission to stage another of his stories, “Joyride,” a production that ended up winning a Bay Area theater award.

So, what’s next for Sarris? The author–who continues to serve as chairman of the Federated Coastal Miwok Tribe–says he has been working on another novel that takes place in Santa Rosa.

But he’s put that project aside for a while to work on the script for a made-for-Showtime movie directed by Alfonso Arau (Like Water for Chocolate). The movie will tell the story of several generations of a family descended from the union of an Indian and a Spanish priest. The production begins filming in January of next year and may air in May.

As for the upcoming Word for Word performances, Sarris expects to be pleased by the results. Indeed, the author can’t seem to say enough about the troupe. “They are teaching literature in what many of my colleagues are calling a post-literate society,” he says. “They literally make literature come to life.”

Word for Word performs Watermelon Nights: Johnny–Chapter Five on Oct. 8-9 and 13-16 at 8 p.m. and Oct. 16 at 2 p.m. at the Burbank Auditorium, SRJC, 1501 Mendocino Ave., Santa Rosa. A gala reception for Sarris–at which the author will sign copies of his novel–takes place Oct. 8 at 6:30 p.m. at the Jesse Peter Museum at SRJC. Tickets for the play are $7; gala admission is $10. Call 527-4342.

From the September 30-October 6, 1999 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Little Tin Frog

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It’s a happening: Little Tin Frog tune into the Velvet Underground on Oct. 16.

Velvet Touch

Little Tin Frog pay homage to Velvet Underground

By Greg Cahill

IT’S GOOD TO KNOW that there are some things in life you can depend on. Case in point: the inane nature of pop culture. For instance, there’s now an entire website devoted to the banana that graced the Andy Warhol-designed album cover of the Velvet Underground’s first LP. You get not only the original cover art cybernetically enhanced to allow the user to peel the banana (oooh la la!), but also a function that permits you to gaze upon this pink splendor in mid-peel.

And that’s not all!

There’s also an “alternative” banana–a fuzzy yellow critter that looks like a genetically modified fruit crossed with Furby genes.

Now that’s livin’.

Little did Rolling Stone know a few years back, when it declared the Velvet Underground to be the most influential band of the past 20 years, that a whole new medium would evolve to carry the torch–albeit in a decidedly goofy fashion.

As for the band’s musical influence, that’s very much in evidence as the millennium ebbs–or flows, or whatever. The resonance of the Velvet’s distorted folk-rock rhythms and street level lyrics–an amalgam of Lou Reed, John Cale, Moe Tucker, and Sterling Morrison–spiked with references to drug experimentation and sexual abandon, can be heard in the music of David Bowie, R.E.M. (who covered a couple of Velvet Underground songs on their Dead Letter Office CD), Sonic Youth, Yo Lo Tango, Galaxy 500, Luna, Television, Bauhaus, the Jesus & Mary Chain . . . and the list goes on.

Local alt-rockers Little Tin Frog not only worship at the proverbial shrine of the Velvets, they’re gonna actually build a shrine in their honor.

On Oct. 16, the Petaluma-based band will host a tribute to the quintessential New York art-rock group, transforming the rustic Inn of the Beginning into a replica of “The Exploding Plastic Inevitable,” a 1966 art happening hosted by Velvet’s mentor and pop artist Andy Warhol.

“We initially came up with the idea as a way to draw people with an interest in alternative music into coming out to see local bands for the first time,” says event organizer Owen Otto of Little Tin Frog. “We chose the Velvet Underground over a lot of more popular bands because they were hugely influential and embodied the ideas of musical integrity in rock.”

The tribute will include an army of local musicians–including Little Tin Frog, Dave Hudson, Karry Walker, James Combs, 20-Minute Loop, Seven, and the Youth Symphony (formerly Orisha)–all performing covers of VU songs.

The Velvet Underground tribute will be held Saturday, Oct. 16, at 8 p.m. Inn of the Beginning, 8201 Old Redwood Hwy., Cotati. Tickets are $7 at the door, $5 in advance, and are available at Red Devil Records in Petaluma, the Last Record Store in Santa Rosa, and Zone Music in Cotati.

From the September 30-October 6, 1999 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

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Rabbi Naomi Levy pans 'Jakob the Liar' Writer David Templeton takes interesting people to interesting movies in his ongoing quest for the ultimate post-film conversation. This column is not a film review; rather, it's a freewheeling, tangential discussion of life, alternative ideas, and popular culture. "HAVE YOU ever heard of...

‘Watermelon Nights’

Watermelon Nights is pulling author Greg Sarris back to his native Santa Rosa. Photograph by Janet Orsi Live Action Word for Word stages Greg Sarris' 'Watermelon Nights' By Patrick Sullivan "IT'S LIKE GOING BACK to a family, or back to an old lover, where all the emotions are...

Little Tin Frog

It's a happening: Little Tin Frog tune into the Velvet Underground on Oct. 16. Velvet Touch Little Tin Frog pay homage to Velvet Underground By Greg Cahill IT'S GOOD TO KNOW that there are some things in life you can depend on. Case in point: the inane nature...
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