Maceo Parker

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Funk Felt Deep



Saxophonist Maceo Parker delivers a ‘Funk Overload’

By Greg Cahill

ASK MACEO PARKER to characterize his musical style and the celebrated saxophonist gets reflective. “Funky–lots of syncopated chops, stabs, stops, and jerks,” he explains, during a phone interview from his hometown of Kingston, N.C. “Sometimes I try to stop and start where people least expect it. It’s almost like a running back trying to dodge guys trying to stop him from gaining yards. You know, how a running back does the shake ‘n’ bake–dodging left and right?

“It’s the same kind of thing.”

For three decades, James Brown, the Godfather of Soul, beckoned Parker to “blow, Maceo, blow.” And Parker, now 55, responded with in-the-pocket tenor and baritone sax solos that helped signify such classic James Brown tracks as “Papa’s Got a Brand-New Bag” and “Cold Sweat.” If just for his soulful work with Brown, Rolling Stone once opined, Parker’s place in history would be secure. But in 1990, Parker launched a solo recording career with the organ-soaked jazz and soul standards on All the King’s Men (4th & Broadway), followed by a pair of acclaimed instrumental jazz CDs, 1990’s Roots: Revisited and 1991’s Mo’ Roots, both on the Verve label and both hitting the top of the jazz charts. Those hits rekindled his career and made him a highly sought-after session player who contributed to tracks by Deee-Lite, Living Colour, Jane’s Addiction, De La Soul, and others.

Six months ago, he released Funk Overload (WAR), his first solo recording in two years and a tribute to ’60s and ’70s soul legends (Brown isn’t among them). The dead-heavy funk CD is a marked departure from his earlier jazz recordings. “I wanted to do something a little different,” he explains, noting that the new project provided a chance to record with his rapper son, Corey, who contributes several vocals.

“It’s another source of energy and gives me a bit more longevity to have my son with me,” he adds. “It feels good.”

Fresh from a Midwest run with the Dave Matthews Band and an appearance on Late Night with David Letterman, Parker performs Feb. 13 at the Phoenix Theatre in Petaluma.

PARKER’S PERFORMING career started in elementary school when he formed the Junior Blue Notes. “I’ve pretty much been Maceo since I was born,” he says with a laugh. “It came easily for me–it was something I could do in my sleep–and once I recognized that I could do what I do, I just decided to stay with it.”

But his serious flirtation with fame began at age 21, when in 1964 he and his drummer brother Melvin joined the James Brown band, then on the verge of becoming an R&B hit machine.

It was a heady experience.

“It was really something to start out working on something of that magnitude,” Parker enthuses, ” traveling not only all over this country but also Europe, Asia, and Africa.

“It was top of the line–you couldn’t get no higher.”

The move started Parker’s longtime association with saxophonist Pee Wee Ellis (who later joined the Van Morrison band) and his lifelong friendship with trombonist Fred Wesley, who still records with Parker. But after a string of chart-topping successes, Brown’s celebrated band mutinied over professional differences. Parker moved on.

It was the beginning of Parker’s on-again, off-again relationship with the band leader.

In response, Brown formed the J.B.’s, a hot collection of young bloods that included bassist William “Bootsy” Collins and his guitarist brother Phelps “Catfish” Collins. The Collinses left a year later to join funkmeister George Clinton’s psychedelicized funk outfit Parliamentfunkadelic. Parker would join them three years later, but not before switching to alto sax and contributing to such legendary James Brown funk hits as 1972’s “Get on the Good Foot” and 1974’s “The Payback” and “Pap Don’t Take No Mess.”

For the next 20 years, Parker freelanced with Clinton’s P-Funk and Bootsy’s Rubber Band, while periodically reuniting with Brown.

Despite the turbulent times he spent with Brown, Parker expresses no ill feelings toward the legendary soulman. “We recognized what we had together, but along with that comes the recognition that you just can’t stay together 100 percent of the time and there’s a point where you just have to go out and do your own thing,” he concludes. “We are comfortable with that. If something arises where we can do some more projects together, that would be fine, but we’re very comfortable with how we’re doin’.

“But James Brown has his own style. And I have my own style, though I certainly learned from him. Still, I like to keep it hip and keep it funky.”

Maceo Parker performs Saturday, Feb. 13, at 9pm at the Phoenix Theatre, 201 Washington St., Petaluma. Tickets are $15. For info, call 762-3565.

From the February 4-10, 1999 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Talking Pictures

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Stepping Up

Blended family values: Julia Roberts and Jena Malone get cozy in Stepmom.

Family therapist says ‘Stepmom’ delivers us from stereotypes

By David Templeton

David Templeton takes interesting people to interesting movies in his ongoing quest for the ultimate post-film conversation. This time out, he schedules a session with therapist Felicia Matto-Shepard, a Petaluma-based expert on blended families and stepparenting issues, to see the new comedy/drama Stepmom.

STEPMOTHERS haven’t fared too well on the big screen recently. In 1998, if a stepmom was depicted at all, she was either a nasty, two-faced manipulative Barbie doll–as in Disney’s remake of The Parent Trap–or else she was the classic Brothers Grimm-style monster as in Drew Barrymore’s Ever After: A Cinderella Story, in which Angelica Huston played the part of the unrepentantly wicked stepmother. As a happy ending, she is publicly humiliated and forced into a life of miserable servitude. That’ll teach her.

In the midst of all this stepmother bashing, along comes Stepmom. Starring Susan Sarandon as a divorced mother with two young children, and Julia Roberts as their father’s new fiancée, Stepmom is a flip-flop of the conventional step-story: This time the stepmom is the goodhearted heroine, and the real mom is the sneering, snarling heavy. At least she is until the film’s ending when both characters attain a kind of teary-eyed sainthood. At any rate, to therapist Felicia Matto-Shepard, the appearance of a film like Stepmom is a welcome step in a positive direction.

“I knew right away that I would be seeing this movie,” she says. “I knew a lot of my clients would be talking about it.”

A respected family therapist with an office in Petaluma, Matto-Shepard, herself a stepmother, can claim a certain amount of personal and professional expertise in the area of blended families–and of stepmothering issues in particular. For several years she’s been moderating a stepmom support group with a whimsically apt title: “Wicked No More.” In the course of her work, she’s heard hundreds of horror stories–and a good number of success stories as well–as parents and children struggle to adapt to stepfamily life.

“Forming a successful stepfamily,” Matto-Shepard says with authority, “is always harder than anyone expects it will be. And making things worse is the fact that stepmoms don’t have many obvious role models, and there are no positive pop-culture icons from which to learn.”

So does Stepmom fill the gap? Yes. Sort of. Though overbearingly sentimental and frequently preposterous, Stepmom is successful, Matto-Shepard insists, because buried beneath its slick, sitcom-style facade is a treasure trove of painfully accurate observations. Furthermore, it comes up with a surprisingly optimistic vision of how a blended family can, with effort, regroup to form a healthy, harmonious household.

“It is realistic that these kind of relationships can start out shaky, and mean things can be said between people–and then years later it can be healed,” Matto-Shepard explains to me over tea, immediately after seeing the film. “What was unrealistic was that it only took about three months. Typically, it takes a stepfamily about five years to settle into their roles. By the time you’ve reached five years, everybody pretty much knows who they are and where they fit into the family dynamic.”

IN AN EARLY SCENE, Sarandon goes horseback riding with the kids, and after ridiculing Roberts incessantly–almost begging for the children to join in–she is shocked when her little boy states, “I’ll hate her if you want me to, Mom.”

“How could she be so amazed?” I ask. “After all of her jibes, I think she would have patted him on the back and said, ‘That’s my boy!’ “

“I don’t know that I agree,” Matto-Shepard replies. “When parents are divorced there’s a lot of emotion involved. You lose a lot of your reasoning sense, and you say and do a lot of mean things. And sometimes your kids are like mirrors, reflecting those words and actions right back to you. When he said, ‘I’ll hate her if you want me to,’ she realized for a moment what she was doing, and she was sorry. That’s realistic.

“On the other hand, a little 7-year-old kid is not likely to say that ‘I’ll hate her if you want me to’ to his Mom,” the therapist says. “But he’s likely to feel it. He’ll get the message. ‘Mom doesn’t like her, so if I like stepmom, I’ll be betraying Mom, therefore I’d better protect Mom by hating stepmom.’

“Another thing the film got right was the way Julia Roberts just dives right in there with the kids, taking on too much responsibility too soon. That’s a mistake that a lot of stepmothers make. … It is wise for a new stepmom to be very careful in her entry into the family,” she notes. “You have to develop a relationship with the child first–a connection on some basic human level–before you can take on any real authority.

“The best way a stepparent and a stepchild are most likely to build a relationship with each other is by having lots of little moments together,” Matto-Shepard says. “Like when Roberts offers to show the girl how to paint a tree, or when they’re in the car and Roberts lets her use her lipstick. Bonds are made from little things, like saying, ‘I’m running to the store. Do you want to go with me?’ And then you have a 10-minute chat on the way to the store. That’s how you develop a relationship with your kids.

“The best thing about Stepmom,” Matto-Shepard concludes, “is that it shows–even if not very realistically–that a stepfamily can work. At the very end, Susan Sarandon says, ‘There’s a place for each of us.’ I love that. I believe that’s really true. If kids have four parents, they find a way to have four parents. It works for them. Eventually, everyone finds a way to fit together. Speaking from personal and professional experience, I can say that stepfamilies really can work. They can work incredibly well.”

From the January 28-February 3, 1999 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Abandoned Mercury Mines

Mercury Rising

Michael Amsler



Abandoned mercury mines leave toxic legacy in North Bay

By Janet Wells

MERCURY–with a mythological cachet of fleet-footed skill, and synonyms like “quicksilver” and “cinnabar” gracing the names of local restaurants, schools, and theaters–is part of Northern California’s heritage. The sinister era of mercury may be over–people no longer regularly go insane from working with highly toxic mercury liquid or strip-mine the coastal hills for mercury ore.

Yet, few people even know about the old mercury mines hidden in the hills of Sonoma and Marin counties, the processing buildings and sheds abandoned to rust, dilapidation, and weeds.

But mercury waste, hundreds of thousands of cubic yards of tailings thrown into the deep gullies and ravines, is very much part of the present, flowing into streams and showing up in fish and wildlife at alarmingly high levels. An intensive $3 million cleanup effort is nearing completion in northern Marin County, where, in a steep canyon, 200,000 cubic yards of mining waste containing 590,832 pounds of mercury have been eroding into Gambonini Ranch Creek, which drains into Walker Creek and, about 10 miles downstream, Tomales Bay.

While commercial Tomales Bay oysters–grown on racks or in bags above the sediment where mercury settles–are well within safe limits, research on native shellfish, along with other fish and birds, tells a different story. The Gambonini Ranch mine site “poses a significant threat to the beneficial uses of Walker Creek and Tomales Bay,” according to a new report by the San Francisco Regional Water Quality Control Board. The report also warns of a “potential threat to humans and wildlife.”

Says Tom Baty, an Inverness resident who has been fishing Tomales Bay for 40 years, “The possibility that there is mercury bio-accumulation that people are eating is of great concern. It’s a tricky question to be asking oneself, but if there’s a problem with the local fish, it’s better that we all know.”

Farther north, at the headwaters of the Eel River, a source of water to the Russian River, officials from the North Coast Regional Water Quality Control Board have found elevated levels of mercury in freshwater bass. The probable cause, according to senior engineer Bob Tancreto, is underneath Lake Pillsbury, where a town with a mercury mine was abandoned and buried in the early 1900s when the Cape Horn and other dams were built to create the reservoir.

In Sonoma County, a mercury mine similar to the Gambonini site’s ore extraction and processing, caused consternation more than 15 years ago. Construction of the Guerneville sewage plant used mercury-laden tailings in soil and gravel from an abandoned mine at Mt. Jackson for road base material. After extensive tests, county health officials found nothing alarming about the inert reddish dirt, and Tancreto says that waste from the Mt. Jackson mine–which likely is washing down into Fife Creek and on to the Russian River–“is not an issue.”

“If you take a sample of soils anywhere in this county, you will find mercury in it, but in the form of oxide, so it’s not a dangerous element,” he says.

However, testing of creeks and wells in the Mt. Jackson mine area was last done 15 or 20 years ago. “Whether it deserves another look is a good question,” Tancreto concedes.

MERCURY CAN BE a nasty substance. Liquid mercury, which can be absorbed through the skin, leads to insanity and death, as in the “Mad Hatters” who used the chemical to form felt for hats. The ore form of mercury mined in California was processed using high-temperature ovens. The waste from ore processing becomes a threat to humans when it stews in an anaerobic environment like water and transforms into an organic substance that “bio-accumulates,” coming up through the food chain and causing long-term health problems, especially in pregnant and nursing women and young children.

Mercury, along with dioxins, pesticides, and PCBs, is a known health issue in San Francisco Bay, where fish advisories are posted, warning what kind and how much fish is safe for consumption. In contrast, Tomales Bay, the long thin estuary nestled among coastal rolling hills just south of the county line and feeding into Bodega Bay, is considered a clean-water haven.

“It’s a big issue, because the bay is so clean, relatively speaking,” Baty says of Tomales. “No one thinks about any problems here.”

But maybe they should. Last year, a study on heavy metals accumulating in Suisun Bay ducks from agricultural runoff was published in a national science journal. Tomales Bay ducks were to be the “clean” control group for that study until scientists found that the Tomales birds had twice as much mercury as those in the Delta–levels high enough that “over winter survival and reproductive successes are at risk,” according to the water board report.

“That was an eye opener for us,” says Dyan Whyte, associate engineering geologist for the San Francisco Regional Water Quality Control Board and head of the Gambonini site cleanup. “From a statewide perspective, it is a relatively small mine, but when we looked at the amount of mercury [washing down from the site], it was a very high amount and going into a very pristine water body.”

Whyte spent two winters slogging out to the remote Gambonini mine site, often in the middle of the night, to gather data on how much mercury was traveling from the waste pile into the water system. “We found that discharge was very tied in to storm events,” she says. “If I’d gone in the summer or even once a week, I might not have found anything. It’s a very different picture if you go out when it’s raining. Eighty percent of the mercury left within 20 percent of the time.”

The big El Niño storms last year and in the early ’80s only made the downstream contamination worse. In 1982, a dam made of mine tailings failed, inundating the creek below with mercury waste. Last January and February, the mine site released an “alarming” 170 pounds of mercury to downstream waters, according to Whyte’s report, about one third of the amount that the entire Central Valley releases to the San Francisco Bay in a year.


CSAA

Poison path: Mercury is washing out of the Gambonini Ranch mine site into Walker Creek and then flowing west into Tomales Bay near the county line.

LEGALLY, environmental hazards are the responsibility of the property owners or the polluter. In the Gambonini mine case, the property owners don’t have funds for cleanup, and the mining company that leased the property is long gone.

Property owner Alvin Gambonini, who suffered a stroke in 1997 and has difficulties speaking, grew up on the 1,400-acre cattle-grazing-ranch. Gambonini, 76, and his 64-year-old wife, Doris, lease most of the property to cattle grazers, keeping enough land for their 26 cattle, seven sheep, and a ramshackle ranch compound, with sheds, pens, bales of wire, and even a cast-iron clawfoot bathtub out front.

The mine site, leased to the Buttes Gas & Oil Co. by Gambonini’s parents, is across Wilson Hill Road from the ranch house six miles southwest of Petaluma, and up a steep ridge. The Gamboninis used the site’s deep canyons as a dumping ground for old cars and tires.

“We didn’t know too much about it,” Doris Gambonini says of the mine. “We felt like there wasn’t any problem at all.”

Buttes Gas & Oil operated the mine at Gambonini Ranch from 1964 to 1970, when the price of mercury plummeted and all but killed the ore-mining industry. In 1985, Buttes Gas & Oil filed for bankruptcy, and in a federal bankruptcy court settlement the state agreed to release the company from liability in exchange for $128,000 to be used toward remediation of the site. Cleanup of a 15-acre unstable pile of mine waste had a significantly higher price tag than the amount wrested from the bankruptcy court, and the state didn’t want to take on the cost or the responsibility, since, legally, whoever cleans up a site is then liable for it.

Eventually geologist Whyte, armed with findings showing levels of mercury high enough to qualify as an emergency, secured $2.5 million in federal funding through the Environmental Protection Agency. The state is kicking in about $500,000 for non-remedial portions of the project, thereby avoiding future liability.

The six-month cleanup removed the enormous tailings pile, replaced it with about 400,000 cubic yards of dirt, and built creekbeds 30 feet higher than the original gullies and filled them with 201,000 tons of rock to stabilize the slope. The hillside now looks almost manicured, terraced with drainage culverts and sausage-shaped straw “wattles.” A nursery in Napa is growing 5,000 plants from seeds collected from the surrounding hillsides to plant on the new slope. About 100 willow cuttings were pounded into the center of the slope, where they will sprout into trees that soak up water from the slump-prone area.

“It’s not for aesthetics, but for long-term stability,” Whyte says of the plantings. “The goal of the project is to eliminate the release of any sediments from the site.”

The land is, for all intents and purposes, permanent open space, since the state will not allow anyone to use or live on the contaminated property. The site will be fenced off, and warning signs posted.

While the Gambonini mine cleanup effort will go a long way toward cutting off the mercury flow at the source, the amount of mercury still in the ecosystem is unclear. “It will become less available if it is covered up with clean sediment or washes out to the ocean,” Whyte says. “But how long it is going to take for it to flush through the system, we don’t know. There still is mercury coming through the Delta into San Francisco Bay that is associated in part with mercury used during the Gold Rush.”

In August, the state began studying fish in Tomales Bay to determine mercury levels, which at least preliminarily are highest in shark. A sizable Hispanic population has discovered shark fishing in Tomales, both for recreation and as a source of protein, says Baty, who has been helping the state with its research by providing samples of leopard shark, halibut, jack smelt, and other native fish.

“If the sharks they are consuming are a large proportion of their protein, there conceivably could be major health consequences,” says Baty, who is concerned that the amount of the sport fishing–and therefore the amount of mercury consumed–may be underestimated in Tomales Bay.

“Fish and Game has no idea of how big it is here, how many people have been fishing, how many fish are landed or where they are going. There’s no way of monitoring it,” he says. “They should know so they can manage it.”

The state’s findings on Tomales Bay fish will go to the state Office of Environmental Health Hazard Assessment, which issues health advisories through the media and works with county health departments to post warning signs or distribute flyers.

FOR SEVERAL YEARS, Tomales Bay oyster growers have endured mandatory closure of harvesting owing to septic and sewage flow into the bay during heavy rains. There are currently no warnings or advisories about mercury poisoning in the bay.

Drew Alden, owner of Tomales Bay Oysters, which cultivates about 200,000 oysters each year for sale at a local retail outlet, talked with Whyte about the Gambonini mine several months ago, and is confident that his shellfish are safe. But even if the levels of mercury are low in commercial shellfish, any allegations about environmental problems in the bay can be tough to combat, he says.

“People look at that and say, ‘I don’t want to eat those oysters, they have mercury in them,’ ” he says. “But I’m an advocate of educating the public. Mercury is a naturally occurring mineral. If there were no mercury mine up there, we would still have mercury. The question is, How much mercury is there to cause alarm?

“If there’s enough, people should be aware of it.”

From the January 28-February 3, 1999 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Sonoma County Road Food

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Road Food

By Marina Wolf

ONE USUALLY EATS in a fancy restaurant for one of several reasons: to celebrate the raise, to impress the parents, to warm up the sweetie for a little woo. But where to go when there’s no reason, no one to impress or seduce, when all that’s needed is comfort, convenience, or just good solid chow?

To the workhorses of the restaurant world, that’s where: the cafes, diners, BBQ pits, pizza shacks, taquerias. … By any name, in any part of the country, there’s good cheap food to be had in the most unassuming places. Jane and Michael Stern coined the term “road food” over 20 years ago to describe this everyday grub, which they “discovered” while crisscrossing the country talking to truck drivers. At the time, food trends were heading toward either haute or health cuisine, so the Sterns’ excitement over such all-American fare was understandable.

Road food has as much to offer the casual diner now as it did then. A road-food establishment is convenient in a very unobtrusive way: no neon signs, no flashy commercials, just a plain building that’s at exactly the right place between point A and point B, where A equals home and B equals the beach, church, work, or any place other than A. Road food is cheap, is simply flavored (which means you don’t have to concentrate to “get it”), and affords a blessed loosening of aesthetic, behavioral, or nutritional constraints. Here you can lick your fingers, use a roll to wipe your plate–if there even is a plate–and ask for a triple helping. They won’t even look at you sideways.

To this day the Sterns remain unparalleled reporters on road food. Their enthusiastic bulletins from around the United States can be seen at the Epicurious web site and, of all places, in Gourmet. But strangely, in all their travels, the Sterns have spent no ink at all on Sonoma County. I’d like to rectify that situation with my own arbitrary guide to some of the off-to-the-side eateries of the county. I won’t even pretend to be comprehensive–these are just personal favorites and tips from friends.

If you know a local joint that serves up outstanding road food–that is, good food and a comfortable atmosphere costs $30 or less for two people, including tip–drop me a line, ‘cuz I want to know.

Ingram’s Chili Bowl
THE DISPLAY CASE on the south wall tells it all: two menus, one from the restaurant’s first year of Santa Rosa operations in 1951 and one from today. The scary thing–the wonderful thing–is that, other than the prices, nothing has changed. The third generation of Ingrams has been dishing out the same platter of killer chili all these years. The thin, rusty sauce with tender chips of beef is made in the back every day, and then left to simmer while awaiting the call to cover foods that normally stand alone, but are better for the union: open-faced cheeseburgers, spaghetti, enchiladas, ham. The chili spreads out over the oval plate, lapping at the edges of a hot pile of hash browns. Breakfast is done here, too, but it’s hard to concentrate on the four food groups when the one that matters–chili–is available all day long, sending aromatic clouds over the assortment of old-timers, youngish businessmen on their lunch breaks, and wide-eyed food writers. Even though a pull at the slot machine near the door didn’t win me a free dinner, or even a second pull, I still felt lucky. Ingram’s Chili Bowl, 3925 Old Redwood Hwy., Santa Rosa. No phone (the fax number on the menu is a joke). Hours: Mondays-Fridays, 6 a.m. to 2 p.m.; Saturdays, 8 a.m. to 2 p.m.; Sundays, 9 a.m. to 2 p.m.

Pack Jack Bar-B-Que Inn
THIS ROADSIDE SHACK, gussied up on the inside with Old West memorabilia and a deer’s head, sits just a little south of Sebastopol on Highway 116. You might drive past a couple of times before you see it, but do keep looking. Independent readers give Pack Jack’s a Best Of award year after year, so our readers, at least, are in the loop. But if you’re picking up the paper for the first time, here’s the dirt: Pack Jack’s digs down to the deep, greasy roots of barbecue and brings up a winner. The menu offers six or seven kinds of roast beast, all slow cooked in a smoky oven for a perfect crust that lies beneath a generous slathering of Bonnie and Marie Harris’ homemade sauce (hot, sweet, mild, or mix-’em-up). A half-size dinner is aplenty, while a regular dinner–one meat, two side dishes–is perfect, and the two-meat plate is just this side of over the top. Leave room for the beans: they’re sweet but not candied, with plenty of spice. Pack Jack Bar-B-Q Inn, 3963 Gravenstein Hwy. S., Sebastopol. 823-9929. Hours: Tuesdays-Thursdays, 11:30 a.m. to 9:30 p.m.; Fridays-Sundays, 11:30 a.m. to 10 p.m.

Michael Amsler



Zoya’s Truck Stop Cafe
THE ONLY EXIT leading from Highway 101 to Zoya’s Cafe in Petaluma–a favorite hangout for performance artist and musician Tom Waits–is on the northbound side. We non-truckers have to wend our way around the dark curve of Petaluma Boulevard South before we can crunch into the gravel parking lot to a place amid the behemoth trucks. Once at your table, with its wallside phone and rubbed-pale Formica top, head straight for the back page of the menu, where you’ll find a few simple lines describing the Russian specialties of the house. The cafe’s namesake came to Sonoma County the long way, via China, in the late ’40s, and clearly her culinary heritage survived the journey. This is road food po-russky: Beet-red borshcht, chunky with beef and veggies, makes a meal in itself with some buttered bread, as do the pel’meni–handmade meat dumplings piled into a deep bowl of clear broth. My Russian-American girlfriend shares the secret of garnishing pel’meni: a splash or two of soy sauce and a dollop of sour cream stirred in for cream-of-pel’meni satisfaction. Ask for some frozen to heat up at home! Zoya’s Truck Stop Cafe, 2645 Petaluma Blvd. S., Petaluma. 762-2233. Hours: Daily, 5 a.m. to 10 p.m.

Willow Wood Market Cafe
THE WILLOW WOOD Market Cafe was part of the first wave of gastronomic gentrification to hit the west county hamlet of Graton a few years back. Now it is a downtown fixture, with its cozy tables accommodating a steady stream of townsfolk who want a bit of chat and a good cuppa joe. Owner Sally Spittles keeps the market stocked with a bemusing mix of British condiments and foodstuffs, gourmet SoCo items, and a few staples like beer and bread. Spittles also provides local artists and writers with ample wall space and a back area for readings once a month. Here you’ll find food for the body as well as the soul. The famous polenta is a sturdy, flavorful porridge that is equal to any stew you care to lay on it (they’re all good choices). And the sandwiches are slightly adventurous without being strange (try the hot ham and brie sandwich, with toasted rustic bread that lets the melty cheese seep through its holes).

Wash down your meal with a bottle of old-fashioned soda like key lime or strawberry. Take your time. Drink it slow. Willow Wood Market Cafe, 9020 Graton Road, Graton. 823-0233. Hours: Mondays-Thursdays, 8 a.m. to 9 p.m.; Fridays-Saturdays, 8 a.m. to 9:30 p.m. Closed Sundays.

Betty’s English Fish & Chips
IF YOU HAVE to fiddle with a knife and fork, you are approaching the line between simple and not-so-simple good food. Betty’s Fish & Chips, a plain white storefront on Highway 12 on the eastern edge of Santa Rosa, falls firmly into the simple corner. Though you do get silverware with your hotly glistening platter of fish and fries, no one expects you to actually use it, except maybe on a heavier piece of the tender Icelandic cod that’d flake in half if you tried to dip it wholesale into the tartar sauce. Otherwise use your fingers–Miss Manners be damned. The kids over in the corner are doing it, and who knows better than kids how to enjoy food? The decor is functional British, with a few touristy wall hangings, but the restaurant wisely puts most of its energy into the food. A nice cap to the meal is a mini-pie, made every day on the premises. First time in? Try the lemon cloud pie, a mini-pie shell that holds a thick, rich, well-balanced curd under real whipped cream. Next time you can try the others. Betty’s English Fish & Chips, 4046 Sonoma Hwy., Santa Rosa. 539-0899. Hours: Tuesdays-Thursdays, 11:30 a.m. to 8 p.m.; Fridays-Saturdays, 11:30 a.m. to 8:30 p.m.; Sundays, 12:30 to 6 p.m. Closed Mondays.


Michael Amsler

Homestyle: Betty Carr of Mom’s Apple Pie knows comfort food.

Pine Cone Restaurant
THIS MAIN STREET cafe in Sebastopol is never totally busy, which makes it a nice retreat from the modern, totally zapped java joints that occasionally–I’ll admit it–are a little too much. It’s always shady in here, and quiet. The soda counter serves straight-up, no-nonsense ice cream treats made from Clo’s ice cream, and the rest of the menu is equally plain and simple: eggy breakfasts with knock-out pancakes, sandwiches on white bread, burgers and hot fries. The counter attracts a certain category of older men–you know, the ones who are always trying to snag somebody else’s newspaper to go with their coffee. But then there’s the nice young man who pipes up with information about Leftover Salmon concert dates at just the right moment. The waitress teases both regulars and first-timers as if she’s on good terms with everybody’s parents. The high-backed booths sink under your weight as though they’ve been expecting you. This is a very good thing. Pine Cone Restaurant, 162 N. Main St., Sebastopol. 823-1375. Hours: Daily, 7 a.m. to 3 p.m.

Mom’s Apple Pie
ANY ESTABLISHMENT that names itself not only after a specific dish, but gives you the name of the person nominally responsible for that dish, is worth checking out as a road food possibility. Odds are that the people thereabouts will display a fervent loyalty to the cause. Betty Carr, the mom in Mom’s, has been inspiring that loyalty at the same location on Highway 116 just south of Forestville for about 15 years now. The menu, composed in white plastic letters on a black velvet-covered board, advertises sandwiches, burgers, fried chicken. But the real draw is the pie, one slice at a time or whole pies to go, made from the same recipe Carr learned in a home-ec class over 30 years ago: good tart apples (Gravenstein in season), not too much sugar, and a flaky crust that is never soggy, unless your ice cream melts on it. If you’re not an apple person, try the rhubarb pie, a tart piece of divinity that isn’t trying to hide its origins. Then pull up a chair in the side gallery and watch the traffic go by. Mom’s Apple Pie, 4550 Gravenstein Hwy. N., Sebastopol. 823-8330. Hours: Daily, 10 a.m. to 7 p.m.

Rob’s Rib Shack
SOME ROAD-FOOD establishments break the mold by not actually being on the way to anywhere, but by being destinations in their own right. Not in an “But, darling, you must eat here at least once before you leave for Paris” sense, but in a “Hey, I feel like some really good barbecue tonight” sense. Rob’s Rib Shack in Sonoma falls into both of those categories. The brick ovens in France can’t hold a candle to the magical one here: pieces of chicken, beef, and pork get shoved in there and emerge all charred on the outside, tender on the inside. Ah, forget the clichés and just shove your teeth into all the little spaces between the bones. And don’t worry about getting barbecue sauce on your face. First of all, you will. Second of all, even with the extra illumination afforded by strands of pig lights hanging from the low-slung ceiling, the Rib Shack is dark enough that no one will notice. A few yuppie touches here and there, in the achiote catfish sandwich or the Santa Fe smoked-chicken salad, but nothing to get alarmed about. From the outdoor eating area to the slow-burn killer fries, here’s a place that hard-core hogs can call home. Rob’s Rib Shack, 18708 Arnold Drive, Sonoma. 938-8520. Hours: Daily, 11 a.m. to 9 p.m.

Owl Cafe
IN CLOVERDALE, the land that time and the freeway forgot, where night falls hard and the traffic is driving a lot faster down the main drag since the overpass went up and no one really needs to stop anymore … Well, traffic patterns may shift, but some things never change. The Owl Cafe, a motorist landmark since the ’40s, is still serving the same rib-sticking food–fish and chips, prime rib and potatoes … You get the picture–these are protein-and-carb combos that can keep truckers and college students fueled on the long haul to Arcata, at least. Do ask about the specials, and do get some pie; it’s not made on the premises, but it’s got a decent crust, and the friendly waitresses–there aren’t a lot of male servers in the heartland–will put a lot of ice cream on top if you ask. We came late in the evening and got very attentive service, and even got an eavesdropping earful about a waitress’ ex-husband. Seems he’s taken up with a much younger woman in Texas and … Owl Cafe, 485 S. Cloverdale Blvd., Cloverdale. 894-8967. Hours: Sundays-Thursdays, 7 a.m. to 8:30 p.m. (“8 if we slow down”); Fridays-Saturdays, 7 a.m. to 9 or 9:30 p.m.

The Crab Pot
I GOT BIT by a shark recently. It was after I had bought two cracked and cleaned fresh crabs in the packed little cottage on Highway 1 called the Crab Pot. Outdoors a party of people were busy taking snapshots of their seafood feast at the lone picnic tables, right behind the ramshackle smokehouse. Inside a man spoke in impatient Spanish to two big-eyed children and then ordered several cups of clam chowder, so thick that the spoons stood up in it. I checked out the clean-smelling shellfish and smoked fish that were sharing quarters in the cramped refrigerator case, then asked for an eighth of a pound of shark jerky instead of the half-pound that was listed on the board. In response, the poker-faced woman behind the counter handed me a harmless-looking shred. “You can try it first,” she said. One nibble at the thumbnail-sized piece ripped my face clean off. “Do you make this here?” I asked, my eyes watering at the cracked pepper that thickly coated the shark flesh. “Yup,” she said stoically, toting up the rest of my order on a thickly scribbled piece of paper. “Well, I only have enough money for the crabs and bread, but thanks,” I said, and fled. That was a lie. I had enough money for a bag of saltwater taffy. It took two or three pieces to soothe the flames in my mouth, the revenge of that old shark. The Crab Pot, 1750 Hwy. 1, Bodega Bay. 875-9970. Hours: Daily, 9 a.m. to 5 or 5:30 p.m.

From the January 28-February 3, 1999 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

The Scoop

Nudes and Prudes

By Bob Harris

SO DISNEY pulled 3,4 million copies of The Rescuers off the shelves because of some mystery smut they wouldn’t identify.

Geez, will anybody ever learn that censoring something is the fastest way to get people to want to see it? Apparently not.

Well, here we go again. Disney says there’s something dirty in The Rescuers, but they won’t say what. And now all anybody wants to know is, OK, what’s so awful that they’re willing to spend millions of dollars to cover it up?

Here we go: 38 minutes into the film, while Bernard and Bianca are flying around town, windows in city buildings are going by in the background. If you advance frame by frame, you’ll see two frames where one of the windows contains a tiny, distant picture of a nude woman who is visible from the waist up.

Apparently somebody in post-production thought it was funny, although opinions differ as to exactly when the images were inserted. You can see the frames for yourself at the Urban Legends Reference Pages at http://snopes.simplenet.com/disney/films/rescuers.htm. Anyhow, it’s completely invisible at full speed, the unidentifiable woman is not doing anything remotely obscene or gratuitous, and absolutely none of you would have any idea it’s there if Disney hadn’t called such attention to it.

So two points: (1) Censorship doesn’t usually work too well; and, more important, (2) what’s so obscene about a nude female body? Since when do children of breast-feeding age have to be protected from the image of … breasts?

Excuse me, but the Disney corporation’s attitude seems like what our kids really ought to be protected from.

IN MAY 1997, this space (along with Mother Jones, which rules) pointed out the odd coincidence between the $300,000 Bob Dole fronted to bail Newt Gingrich’s more photogenic end out of his Ethics Committee penalty for lying and the $300,000 Dole received a few days earlier as a signing bonus to begin working for the tobacco lobby.

In December 1997, this space predicted that Liddy Dole would definitely seek the presidency in 2000, and that Newt Gingrich would not. Instead, Newt would defer and support Liddy as a quid pro quo.

So. Am I nuts, or was the tobacco money loan from Dole part of a deal to buy Gingrich’s patronage? And did Dole, by fronting for them, buy Gingrich’s support for Liddy?

Time cut to the present. Liddy’s running. Newt’s not.

Instead, Newt’s setting up Gingrich Enterprises, a consulting firm to lobby on (get this) health issues. Newt’s also about to start a speaking tour at $50,000 a pop. He’s also setting up a new PAC, the Friends of Newt Gingrich Political Action Committee. So obviously he’ll be raising money for somebody in 2000.

Maybe Newt won’t support Liddy. Maybe he will. Let’s watch. I give it six months.

Let’s also see if Newt starts doing a bunch of speeches for tobacco growers and the like. Let’s see how much FNGPAC (which I suggest we begin pronouncing as “Fringe-Pac”) money winds up in Liddy’s coffers.

Just as a coincidence, of course.

SOME PEOPLE would walk a mile for a Camel. An 89-year-old New Hampshire woman is walking 3,000 miles so that Camel won’t have that kind of influence anymore.

Doris Haddock will be spending 1999 walking all the way from Los Angeles to Washington, D.C., in a one-woman crusade for campaign finance reform.

In an effort to show Washington that the American people do indeed want to clean up the way campaigns are financed, Miz Haddock is walking 10 miles a day, carrying everything she needs on her back, and spending the night wherever her sleeping bag hits the ground. And she’s meeting with community groups and politicians at every stop along the way.

She started her trip at the Rose Parade in Pasadena on New Year’s Day, and she’s hoping to get to Washington by October. If you want more information, check out her website at http://www.grannyd.com. There’s a map of her route, a copy of the petition she’s handing out, and a really cool picture of her with a knapsack.

Y’know, Granny D here is trying to change the way we choose our politicians, but thinking about the effort she’s putting into this at her age–just because she gives a damn about our country–maybe there’s an even simpler solution:

Doris Haddock for president.

From the January 28-February 3, 1999 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Chile

Forgetting Is So Long

By Shepherd Bliss

SHORTLY AFTER Gen. Augusto Pinochet’s violent l973 coup in Chile, my good friend Frank Teruggi’s family invited me to Frank’s funeral in Chicago. They wanted me to be a pallbearer, perhaps even to say a few words. I did not want to go. But when a plane ticket arrived from his girlfriend, I knew I had to go.

They would not open the coffin to allow us to view his tortured body.

We were all shut down and stiff from grief.

Frank was a small, feisty young man who loved street theater, making jokes, and having fun. I recruited him from Berkeley to work with me in Chile. Frank was wonderfully creative, but lacked discipline. On the other hand, I was raised in the military family that gave its name to Ft. Bliss, Texas, and had been an officer in the U.S. Army, so I helped him bring order to his good work for people. Frank lifted my spirits with his impish humor and antics.

Chile may seem a long way from my quiet, peaceful farm near Sebastopol, where I now tend berries and chickens. But having served as a Methodist minister there during the administration of President Salvador Allende, the first freely elected Socialist leader in history, Chile remains in my heart and close to home. As international efforts heighten to bring the brutal dictator Pinochet to justice, I painfully revisit Chile nearly every day. His recent arrest in England on charges of genocide brings back painful memories locked away long ago.

I need to tell my story, though some details still remain cloudy. As ecology writer Barry Lopez asserts, “The stories people tell have a way of taking care of them. Sometimes a person needs a story more than food to stay alive.”

I ARRIVED in Chile in l971, in my 20s, fresh from the seminary and newly ordained. Chile reminded me of a southern version of my home state. Both are good wine country, verdant and varied with deserts, rugged coasts, rolling hills, and high mountains. Before Pinochet’s regime, Chile was the most democratic nation in South America, never having experienced a coup.

Chile during the Allende administration was a happy place, except for the presence of a few wealthy aristocratic families and the repressive military. Allende, a physician, brought health care, education, employment, and nutrition to millions of impoverished people. He deepened his country’s democratic processes.

Driving by our dairies here in Sonoma County, I recall Allende bringing milk programs to many children who had been deprived of it.

I remember people often celebrating in the streets, chanting, singing, and eating.

In a recent Nation article, Marc Cooper recalls “a nation taking control of its destiny, breaking from dependence, reclaiming its natural resources, empowering and transferring wealth to the poor.”

Friendships grew quickly during that exciting time. I met a young woman from Ecuador, Mercedes Roman, a devout Catholic. Her long, black hair, olive skin, and compassionate caring were etched into my heart. I fell deeply in love for the first time in my adult life. I courted her in the old-fashioned way, won over some family members, and wanted to marry her.

But on my 29th birthday, Sept. 4, l973, the third anniversary of Allende’s election, a half million Chileans gathered in the square, pleading for weapons to defend themselves from the impending military coup. Allende erred tragically.

He was naive.

As the military and other right-wingers armed to topple his government, he innocently believed that his country’s long democratic tradition would prevail. People were defenseless when the waves of terror swept through the streets, into homes, and across the country.

The violent militaristic pursuit reached beyond Chile’s borders into other Latin American nations, taking lives even in the United States.

Mercedes and I kept in touch for a few years after the brutal coup a week later. I returned to the States, accepting a position at Harvard. I chose safety and security. She continued working for the church, though many activist Christians were rounded up and some were tortured and killed. Mercedes was beaten by the police, but she continued her humanitarian work.

Because of U.S. complicity with the Pinochet regime and its support by Nixon, Kissinger, and the CIA, Mercedes was not too happy with America. She did finally get a visa to come here, and I looked forward to seeing her. But when she got to the airport in New York, she was not allowed to enter.

She could be seen through the wire fences, breaking down from interrogation by immigration officials, in fear of being tortured again.

I never saw Mercedes again. As I think about her now, a line from Chilean Nobel Prize-winning poet Pablo Neruda comes to mind, “Love is so short, forgetting is so long.”

AFTER THE COUP, National Stadium in Santiago, Chile, where I once heard Neruda read his poetry, became a killing field where the military crushed the hands of popular guitarist Victor Jara so that he could not play. Neruda was among the victims of the coup. The military destroyed his manuscripts and his home in Isla Negra; he died broken-hearted later that month.

An invitation he had written after the Spanish Civil War in his poem “I’m Explaining a Few Things” rises in my mind as a description of what happened again in Chile that year: “Come and see the blood in the streets/ Come and see/ the blood in the streets/ Come and see the blood/ in the streets.”

But for 25 years I did not want to come. I did not want to feel the blood frozen in my heart. Our dreams went down in ashes as La Moneda Presidential Palace burned, rocketed by Hawker Hunter jets. The dreams of a more humane society that led Frank, Mercedes, myself, and others to Chile during the Allende administration were brutally shattered.

I am 54 now and live comfortably on a sweet farm in the west county. I have a good life. But I cannot forget. I still do not drink Chilean wine or eat its imported fruit. All this is tainted by the U.S.-supported coup and the “blood in the streets.”

I am not yet ready to forgive. I do not hear remorse from the torturers, nor the admission of guilt by the executioners, nor the assumption of responsibility.

I had never thought of returning to Chile, until this year. With Pinochet arrested, I have considered a visit. I have unfinished business in Chile. As I look at my residency papers from Chile’s Immigration Department, a name stares up at me–Pinochet. Not the general, but a relative of his.

The name stabs at me.

So a distant Chile and California are connected, at least to this native son. With the growing global economy, it becomes more apparent how everything is connected. Human rights violations can protect U.S. economic interests. As U.S. citizens we need to understand our government’s interventions and how they affect people throughout the world and here. Only after truth can there be reconciliation. Justice, or even the possibility of justice (since we may not get it for Pinochet), can open a heart that has been broken and closed. Justice can free those imprisoned by terror.

As the movement to bring Pinochet to trial continues, part of me that has been cold all these years starts to unfreeze.

Sustained international attention on Pinochet’s crimes forces dictators to listen, including those in power and those retired to comfortable villas in Europe and elsewhere with blood on their hands and money in the bank. I want potential dictators, of whatever political persuasion, to consider the consequences of brutal actions for which they may be held accountable elsewhere in the world by international law.

Chile may seem a long way away, but in the hearts and minds of some of us, it is so very close to home.

Sebastopol organic farmer and writer Shepherd Bliss last contributed the January 1998 article “Liquid Gold: One Man’s View on the Corporatization of the Wine Industry.”

From the January 28-February 3, 1999 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Agricultural Pesticides

0

Toxic Shock

Vindication: Jackie Screechfield says her daughter, Samantha, developed severe allergies after pesticides sprayed by a west county apple farmer drifted into neighboring Apple Blossom School. A new report warns of similar health risks.

New report cites widespread health risks from local agricultural pesticides

By Janet Wells

WHEN JACKIE Screechfield dropped off her 13-year-old daughter at Apple Blossom School one day last spring, she noticed a plume of spray coming from a tractor in one of the apple orchards surrounding the Sebastopol middle school. “I could smell a kind of a sharp odor that goes right to your head, and I saw the spray coming off the tractor and right towards campus,” Screechfield says. Could it be, she wondered, connected to whatever was making her daughter and other kids at the school sick that week?

Within minutes the scene turned from a common Sonoma County sight–a farmer rumbling along in a orchard or vineyard–into a major incident with parents, the school superintendent, ambulances, fire trucks, the sheriff’s deputies, and the county agricultural commissioner swarming over the school.

Samples taken that day from Screechfield’s car, as well as sites around the school, tested positive for organophosphates, a class of insect poison whose health effects include headaches and nausea at low exposures, and numbness, seizures, coma, and death at high exposures. Children are usually hit harder than adults.

From an agricultural standpoint, the pesticides found weren’t particularly alarming types or amounts, and are not classified as restricted by the state. But the incident, coupled with her daughter Samantha suddenly developing severe allergies at the end of that week, certainly raised a lot of questions for Screechfield, who spent several months last summer participating in a study monitoring the air around California for evidence of pesticide residue.

The study, released by the Environmental Working Group last week in a 44-page report, “What You Don’t Know Could Hurt You: Pesticides in California’s Air,” found pesticides drifting in the air after spraying in 62 percent of the 26 samples taken in Sonoma County.

The report also estimated that Sonoma County contributes more than a million pounds a year of smog-forming chemicals that evaporate into the air after application of pesticides. The most prevalent pesticide used in the county is sulphur, a common fungicide acceptable for use even in organic farming to combat bunch rot and other grape mildews. But the report also found airborne traces of phosmet and carbaryl, both insecticides.

“This study validates our concern that pesticides often drift beyond property lines to poison the air of our neighborhoods and schools,” Screechfield says.

The report is highly critical of the state’s Department of Pesticide Regulation, calling for Gov. Gray Davis to “clean house” at the department and transfer authority over airborne pesticides to the California Air Resources Board. “All other pollution in the air is regulated by the Air Resources Board, which not only has more expertise, but also has shown a much more aggressive stance in protecting the public,” says Bill Walker, California director of the Environmental Working Group.

“Agriculture exerts such influence that the Department of Pesticide Regulation essentially acts as an advocate for agriculture and an apologist for people who want to use pesticides.”

Veda Federighi, spokeswoman for the Department of Pesticide Regulation, bristles in response to such charges. “The idea that we’re not regulating pesticides and we’re not protecting people, nothing could be further from the truth,” she says. “The Environmental Working Group based this [report] on fewer than one hundred samples from the air. We do hundreds every year.

“We don’t allow pesticides to be used unless they are used safely,” she adds.

Walker agrees that the monitoring study is not comprehensive or authoritative. “We think that’s the state’s job,” he says. Walker points out that the state pesticide agency has never taken air samples of airborne pesticide residue in Sonoma County. Between 1991 and 1995, according to the report, the agency did monitoring 50 times in 14 locations–about one test for every 84,000 pesticide applications in the state.

State spokeswoman Federighi counters that, with the use of technology, there is no need to go to every county in the state. “The area we select for monitoring is the county with the highest use for that pesticide. We pick the month of peak use. That represents the worse case. Then we use computer modeling to estimate what might be found in other areas,” she says.

“We know how the air behaves in Sonoma County. We need data on how pesticides behave generically.”

She adds that the department is not surprised that the study found detectable traces of pesticide in the air in Sonoma County. “All have been well below health concerns,” she says. “The biggest point of disagreement between us and [the Environmental Working Group] is that EWG is saying there’s no level of pesticide that’s safe. What we’re saying is the dose makes the poison. If the exposure is low enough, there is no health effect.”

Judy James, executive director of the Sonoma County Farm Bureau, agrees that farmers are not overusing chemicals.

“Pesticides are expensive and cumbersome and difficult as far as regulations are concerned. Most farmers don’t want to use more than is absolutely necessary,” she says.

But small doses don’t necessarily mean safe doses, according to the report, and it is crucial for the public to receive advance notification of pesticide use–something that is not mandated by state or county regulations. The report calls for 72-hour written notice to all homes, schools, and businesses within 1,000 feet of a field before application of any toxic pesticide.

“It would be a physical impossibility,” says Mike Smith, the county’s assistant agricultural commissioner. “How would you notify everybody? There’s no way of monitoring the whole county to accomplish this.”

Rick Theis, executive director of the Sonoma County Grape Growers Association, echoes that opinion. “Do people call up their neighbors when they put Sevin on their roses? That’s probably more dangerous than sulphur,” he says. “These things are made to be applied in a way that essentially is not a threat to neighbors.”

IN A COUNTY where the suburban population is increasingly bumping up against agriculture, pesticide use boils down to a “good neighbor policy,” Smith says. “We encourage people to communicate with each other.”

Screechfield hopes that policy will work. In talks with the farmers who cultivate land surrounding Apple Blossom School, parents acknowledge that last year was particularly difficult for farmers, with heavy rains necessitating use of high amounts of sulphur and other pesticides to avoid mold and fungus on grapes.

The farmers agreed to notify the school of sprayings, and to do any school-day sprayings before 6 a.m., and the school has purchased a water blaster to wash down playground equipment.

“It’s hard for the farmers. A lot of the fields are addicted to the pesticides, are used to having fertilizer and spray,” Screechfield says. “We’re trying really hard not to create a hostile environment, instead looking for ways for them to move into more sustainable ways of farming, and ways they can move into it without economic hardship.”

The county Agricultural Commission leaves it up to individual growers to decide whether to employ more organic-style farming methods, which use fewer toxic chemicals. Both the Sonoma County Grape Growers Association and the Farm Bureau are pursuing programs and funding to decrease the use of traditional pesticides.

“The problem is there are not a lot of alternatives right now,” James says. “Until we have viable alternatives to pesticides, we don’t want to ban them. They are tools, and can be good tools.”

A copy of “What You Don’t Know Could Hurt You: Pesticides in California’s Air” can be obtained by calling 415/561-6698.

From the January 21-27, 1999 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Lend Me a Tenor

0

Acts of Love

Laugh attack: Andy Reed and Drew Hirshfield star in Lend Me a Tenor.

‘Romance’ and ‘Tenor’ focus on the heart

By Daedalus Howell

DEAR POSTERITY: Please note that writer-performer Bryan Bryson’s imaginative new theaterwork, Romance: A One-Man Show, and the new wave of original Sonoma County theater it betokens, was first acknowledged in this column. Future biographers are encouraged to quote liberally, though one word may suffice for Bryson’s seriocomic production–brilliant.

Directed by Sheila Groves, Romance inaugurates both Actors’ Theatre’s Bare Stage series and Bryson’s promising career as a playwright. Meet Mr. Blissman, equal parts drill-sergeant, snake-oil huckster, and president of the Romantic Video Dating Service–the blustery ballast of this poignant comedy of amour and spiritual fulfillment. Through a series of monologues, Blissman shepherds wayward lovers Toby and Tina (a self-conscious speed addict and flighty ex-erotic dancer) toward union, aided by his buck-toothed charge Stu.

Bryson plays all the characters with aplomb, smartly guillotining the “talking head” that mars many a solo show and invigorating his performance with a physical vocabulary of subtle gestures and character notes.

Throughout, the play ponders, “How close can two people get?” The question is beautifully answered when Bryson performs a dialogue between the lovers, simultaneously portraying both characters, garbed in a half-Toby, half-Tina get-up. The results are hilarious, and Bryson’s costume becomes a compelling visual metaphor.

Bryson is a sharp writer with a finely tuned ear for nuance. That gift shines brightly during a witty denouement that finds Stu confronting his shady mentor during a phone-in TV talk show. Here, Bryson converses with his own taped voice. Video monitors also provide interesting counterpoint to the onstage action.

Bryson’s Romance provides exactly what Sonoma County’s theater scene direly needs–new voices, homemade theater that will put the county on the map. Something is afoot here, and Bryson has taken the first step. Romance: A One-Man Show plays at 7:30 p.m., through Jan. 31 at Actors’ Theatre, 50 Mark West Springs Road. $5-$7. 523-4185.

LEND ME A TENOR, playwright Ken Ludwig’s loving homage to the screwball comedies of the 1930s, gets both screwed and balled by the Santa Rosa Players under the direction of Carl Hamilton. In a good way.

A night-in-the-life of a Cleveland opera company, the play begins as overbearing general manager Saunders (Jon Vissman) puts his whipping boy Max (Drew Hirshfield) in charge of renowned tenor Tito Merelli–a licentious buffoon conceived by actor Andy Reed as a funny conflation of Il Duce and Chico Marx.

Much slamming of doors, mislaying of dresses, and mistaking of identities ensues as the play becomes a whimsical game of musical beds that finds Max posing as the pill-popping tenor after the star ODs. Soon, Hirshfield’s entertaining nebbish is enjoying the fringe benefits of celebrity (Cheri DuMay and Rebecca Allington do well as virginal fan Maggie and careerist soprano Diana) while saving the day and trumping the power elite.

The cast shines in this diverting farce, despite some misfires in the first act. By the end, Lend Me a Tenor has become a fully combustible romp, chock full of broad antics and over-the-top schtick. Lend Me a Tenor plays through Feb. 7 at the Santa Rosa Players, 709 Davis St., Santa Rosa. $12. 544-7827.

From the January 21-27, 1999 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Spins

0

Fully Charged

Boomin’! The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion deliver a burst of punkish blues.

Exorcising the ghost of Howlin’ Wolf

Jon Spencer Blues Explosion Acme Matador/Capitol

EIGHT YEARS after their founding by former Pussy Galore guitarist and vocalist Jon Spencer, the Blues Explosion continue to dish up a potent brew of rock, blues, soul, hip-hop, and R&B, all delivered with an overdriven, post-punk garage sensibility. The new disc kicks off with a bad-ass dance groove–sort of a raggedy version of New Orleans funkmeisters the Meters–and careens wildly through a wasted landscape littered with broken bits of such blues-influenced ’60s- and ’70s-era rockers as the Stones, Yardbirds, Amboy Dukes, and Them while conjuring up the ghosts of Howlin’ Wolf and Hound Dog Taylor. This is no effete intellectual conceit–think Beastie Boys-meet-Brian Jones at a James Brown concert after a two-week bender. Down ‘n’ dirty, bad-tempered tunes for the blues millennium. Greg Cahill

Various Artists Plastic Compilation Volume 02 Nettwerk

RECENTLY record companies have flooded us with so many generic electronic music compilations that it’s tempting to dismiss the whole lot. But the second volume in Nettwerk’s Plastic series shines because of its superlative artists and confectionery pop appeal. Featuring such stars of the rave scene as the Crystal Method, William Orbit, and Sasha, the album combines exuberant dance anthems with playful nods to New York electro and great remixes of pop musicians. In lesser hands, such remixes tend to be embarrassing gimmicks–ever hear the disco version of the Celine Dion Titanic song? Here, though, the remixers respect the visions of the original songs even while totally transforming them. Thus what looks disastrous on paper–like Roni Size’s jungle remix of Sarah McLachlan’s “Sweet Surrender”–ends up sounding surprisingly ethereal and innovative. Other treats include a bouncy, delirious reworking of Cornershop’s “Brimful of Asha” and a beguiling, hypnotic take on French popsters Autour DeLucie’s “Sur tes Pas.” Michelle Goldberg

Golden Smog Weird Tales Ryko

IT’S OBVIOUS that Golden Smog intend to show listeners a good time. The perky Brit-poppy vocals and crashing rock pulse set the tone for this infectious 15-pack set. Vocalist Craig Johnson’s keening nasal twang exudes wounded pride as he sings about friends welcoming him “with broken arms/ They don’t mean any harm.” Smog are something of a supergroup, boasting members from Wilco (Jeff Tweedy), Soul Asylum (Dan Murphy), and Big Star (Jody Stephens), among others. Johnson, Tweedy, and Jayhawk Gary Louris divvy up the vocals; they are equally fine stylists. “Until You Came Along” is a beery sing-along shot through with self-deprecating Dylanesque humor. Throughout, guitarists Gary Louris, Marc Perlman, and Tweedy reel off hybrid licks that can tug at your gut or soothe your soul. Nicky Baxter

From the January 21-27, 1999 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Chris Finley

0

Hide and SECA

Michael Amsler



Artist wins SFMOMA award

By Apollinaire Scherr and Patrick Sullivan

EVERY COUPLE of years, an unusual procession sets out from the hallowed halls of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. The head curators of painting and sculpture from Northern California’s most prestigious cultural institution and a gaggle of collectors, dealers, students, and artists from the museum’s Society for the Encouragement of Contemporary Art pile into buses and drive to the studios of some 30-odd Bay Area artists.

After conversations with the SECA volunteers, the museum narrows the list of artists down to seven, and the curators, without gaggle and buses, return to the studios. A few months later, three or four artists are announced as winners of the prestigious SECA Art Award. Besides providing sudden clout for people who have been doing solid and steady work for several years, the award includes a four-month show at SFMOMA.

This year, the formidable entourage came calling on Sonoma County painter, sculptor, and installation artist Chris Finley–though the team didn’t make it all the way out to his actual studio, a renovated chicken barn in Sebastopol.

“They couldn’t come all this way,” explains the soft-spoken Finley. “It was a little bit too far. So I kind of went to them. I went to the Marin Headlands and rented a viewing space there where I was able to show slides of some work.”

During the brief presentation, Finley’s playful, pop-culture-inspired pieces dragged more than a few smiles out of museum representatives (“They were definitely laughing at the trampoline and things like that,” Finely says, referring to some of the more unusual elements of his art). He had a mere half hour to show his work, but that proved to be enough–he won the award and will be one of the four artists whose work goes on display starting Friday, Jan. 22, in the SECA exhibit on the top floor of SFMOMA.

It’s clearly a triumph for the young artist, but it’s also just the latest accomplishment in a career that began with a meteoric rise. Finely, who is 27, grew up in Petaluma and attended Casa Grande High School. Scholarship in hand, he left Sonoma County to attend the acclaimed Art Center College of Design in Pasadena. After graduation, he took the art world of Southern California by storm, quickly building a red-hot reputation with six critically acclaimed shows in Los Angeles. But despite the success, it didn’t take long for the City of Angels to wear thin.

“I just didn’t want to live there,” Finely says. “I didn’t like the territory. I was so used to being out in the country and being around trees and stuff. There’s just so much going on there–it’s hectic everywhere. Here, I’m pretty much a hermit. I don’t get interrupted at all.”

Determined to concentrate on his work, Finely returned to Sonoma County in 1995 and set up shop in a 20-by-30-foot chicken barn. Now, surrounded by fields full of horses and chickens, he paints for eight hours a day, stopping when the fumes get to him. In the evening, he heads home to Penngrove to whittle and watch TV with his former high school sweetheart, who is now his wife.

The after-hours TV is as important to Finley’s art as his day job. “I look at the mainstream of what is going on–the Internet, the way www.com is on every single commercial now–and get keys to how people look at things,” he says.

From those inspirations, Finley creates multipart installations as buzzy and giddy-making as a Green Day video or the Mario Brothers gamesto which his latest works refer.

Level One had viewers jumping on a trampoline to catch sight of a painting hidden behind a wall. The series of paintings in Level Two work together like nested computer files, or (for the Luddites among us) like a pop-up book, each painting expanding the image of the previous work. Level Three, made for the SECA show, is a full-on obstacle course.

Subtitled “Buzz No Thank You MMM Pizza with Steamy Crotch Hippitty Hop Head-Butt Moo,” the piece leads viewers through a corridor (“kind of like in Raiders of the Lost Ark or a car wash,” Finley explains), where air fresheners, along with noise boxes surgically removed from stuffed animals, hang from baskets, to a hyperactive portrait of two women sunk deep in a monstrous olive pizza. Head-butt the hippitty hop that’s suspended over a steam vaporizer and in front of the women and–voila!–the painting moos.


Chris Finley

Field trip: Finley’s New Age Dom Deloise with Hikers and Smashed Yellowjackets.

That interactive component is a Finley trademark. His work draws people in and persuades them to participate: “The viewer in seeing my pieces becomes sort of like the player in a video game,” he says. But how does the average gallery-goer react to this usual experience?

“Most of the time they have fun,” says Finley. “The people who actually do it will be laughing. It’s good-natured underneath it all. I’m not trying to mess with people or anything like that. I want it to be kind of a fun experience. The act of actually head-butting this hippitty hop in a museum is meant to be this encounter that you have to overcome and be able to let yourself do without feeling silly in front of people.”

Computers may inspire Finley’s work, but one of those ubiquitous little bundles of microchips also serves the artist in a more prosaic way. He renders his paintings by hand, but first he completely designs them on a computer–a Macintosh that travels with him from home to studio every day.

“I’m constantly clicking on the screen, zooming in to look at the details,” Finley says. “The computer even can tell me what percentage of what pigment makes the color I’m going to paint on the painting. I can click on a certain color and it can tell me the percentage of red and blue and yellow to mix.”

Some see in Finley’s work a deep critique of computer technology, and the artist acknowledges that both frustration and fascination with the flaws of high-tech fuels his work. But, Finley says, he doesn’t take that critique too seriously.

“I’m not really trying for some meaning or afterthought, but more a different way of experiencing art–a fun, weird, crazy experience,” Finley says. “When you’re done with it, then fine, you’re done with it. It’s still going to be in your head.”

The SECA exhibit runs Friday, Jan. 22, through April 6 at SFMOMA, 151 Third St., San Francisco. Hours are 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. daily (except Wednesdays) and 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. Thursdays. Admission is $4-$8; free on the first Tuesday of the month. 415/357-4000.

From the January 21-27, 1999 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

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