Santa Rosa Buildering

0

High Times

If you build it, they will climb.

By Janet Wells

The general public considers climbing on buildings shocking and irresponsible behavior. The first and most important rule is: Watch your butt. You alone are responsible for your actions. –Marc Jensen “Buildering Ethics”

REMEMBER that guy who used suction cups to scale New York’s World Trade Center? Or Woody Harrelson climbing the Golden Gate Bridge to protest logging old-growth redwoods? Take a close look around Sonoma County: Urban monkeys are scoping out their own local buildings and structures to play on.

Buildering–a term used to describe the art of urban climbing–usually isn’t motivated by publicity stunts or political activism. It’s about climbing human-made structures for the fun of it, traversing along a stone wall or using cracks to go up just high enough, turning engineering and architecture into a personal challenge. It’s about driving down the street, spying some corner or wall, and imagining the possibilities: The fingertips and toes start to tingle, and you see yourself moving smoothly across stone, brick, or concrete. No ropes, no jangling equipment, no anchors, no long drive to the mountains or fee to the climbing gym.

Technically, buildering is just bouldering, with the peculiar enticement that you’re clambering illicitly.

The biggest draw of buildering is also its biggest drawback: Buildering almost always is illegal. And it won’t win you any popularity contests. Cops don’t like you; landlords don’t like you; most people think you’re, at best, unusual and, at worst, a jerk. You have to be young enough to enjoy currying the disdain of passersby or not care about your reputation. You have to get up early or steal out into the night.

Buildering isn’t exactly my cup of tea. I don’t like going very far off the ground without a rope, the landings usually are bone-jarring cement, and it’s dirty. I’d never worn car exhaust until climbing urban structures. But when I moved here three years ago, one of the first things I noticed was the relief sculpture on the monolithic AT&T building on Third Street in Santa Rosa. The second eye-catcher was the “Lost Autumn” granite sculpture on the south end of Santa Rosa Plaza.

Cool,” I thought. “I wonder if . . . ”

Both have been climbed for years. Both have established routes and ratings, as do a number of structures in downtown Santa Rosa. On a balmy summer evening, as the sun set, a group of us lounged on the warm concrete around the train station at Railroad Square and watched one another climb the corners, doorways, and pillars of the 93-year-old station. We were just another group hanging outside the A’Roma Cafe. Instead of smoking, braiding each other’s hair, or riding on the hood of a friend’s car, we were looking for finger-sized edges and not-too-slopey footholds, making up new routes and noticing chalk from some previous climber’s foray.

“I used to climb out at Goat Rock all the time, ” says Santa Rosa freelance writer and photographer Laine MacTague. “You get bored climbing the same old thing. I’d be buildering if the gym hadn’t come in.”

MacTague, who once got kicked off a church for “desecrating the house of God,” finessed his way up the northeast side of the station, hanging on to some less than encouraging holds. When he reached the “top”–by touching the wood overhang about 14 feet up–one young woman clapped and cheered.

“Part of the appeal is being in front of people and they don’t know what the heck you’re doing,” MacTague says, clearly relishing the attention.

Get a Grip: The AT&T Pac Bell building on Third Street offers plenty of thrills for local builderers seeking a challenging urban climb.

I FIRST BUILDERED in Berkeley, where the climbing subsport has a colorful history. Marc Jensen’s now out-of-print book Bouldering, Buildering and Climbing in the San Francisco Bay Region cataloged a popular circuit of routes at UC Berkeley. His section on Buildering Ethics was a classic:

“You alone are responsible for your actions. That includes safety and your impact on other things. Chalk on buildings and destruction of property are problems that will impact the entire climbing community.

“Buildering will probably always remain a solo weekend or nighttime activity. . . . Climbers should be aware of the legal ramifications of buildering. Trespassing laws are most frequently discussed by police officers while lecturing the apprehended. In these situations it is best to remain quiet and polite. Long hair doesn’t make good impressions.”

While dated by the long-hair reference, Jensen’s diatribe still is right on the mark. Bay Area Rock guidebook author Jim Thornburg deleted the buildering information when he revamped and updated Jensen’s book.

“I wasn’t sure about the legality of it, giving people directions to climb on UC Berkeley buildings,” says Thornburg, who admits that he was once arrested for climbing on the campus Student Union. “It was mostly for talking back to the cop, but trespassing was the charge.”

“Because of gyms, [buildering] is not as prevalent as it used to be,” he says. “I don’t look at buildings any more and say, ‘I want to climb that.’ I used to. Back then I didn’t have the wherewithal to travel all over the place and climb.”

Santa Rosa doesn’t have a specific ordinance against climbing buildings, and police haven’t heard about or arrested local builderers–yet.

“No one is recreationally climbing a building here, but it’s not to say that it can’t happen. I don’t want to jinx it or put the hint out there,” says Santa Rosa Detective Paul Messerschmitt.

If builderers don’t have permission from a property owner and the landlord presses charges, climbers could face misdemeanor charges for trespassing, punishable by fine or six months in county jail.

“Someone is going to call the police if they see someone scaling the side of a building,” Messerschmitt says. “It’s going to call the attention of the police, and will tie us up when we might be needed elsewhere. It would create traffic tie-ups or accidents if people were rubbernecking. It could be a real nuisance.

“If I saw someone a few feet up on a building,” he adds,” it would draw my attention as something suspicious to me, and I’d at least ask the person what they’re doing and if the property owner is aware of it. There are liability issues to think about. I don’t think any business would give someone permission.”

While Santa Rosa police haven’t noticed anyone playing Spiderman in town, building owners and managers have.

Safeway on Fourth Street is a popular buildering spot, with its 200-foot traverse sporting chunks of quartz and sandstone set in cement. Pillars separating the rock sections offer almost perfect hand cracks about 18 feet high. Management, however, is not amused.

“Don’t tell them there’s climbing here!” exclaims one store manager. “If they did fall, we’d hate to have anyone get hurt. Nowadays it’s someone’s mom or dad who says, ‘You didn’t say it wasn’t OK.'”

Doug, a store employee, agrees: “I’m sure it’s a huge liability. We always ask nice [that climbers stop], and they always leave. If they didn’t, I’d arrest them. It’s a great sport, and I wish you a lot of luck. But not here.”

Where to go in Santa Rosa.

More urban adventuring in .

THE KEY to successful buildering, one local climber says, is “Go in fast and get out.” The lanky health-care professional, who requested anonymity to protect his upstanding reputation, planned his Santa Rosa buildering assault with care. Dressed in black unitards, he and a colleague set out early one weekend morning, starting at Safeway on Mendocino Avenue, where they were promptly kicked off. The pair headed for downtown. First on the list was a fountain at Fourth and B streets. Then the Third Street wall and the mall sculpture. They climbed up and over the doorway of a storefront next to Sawyer’s News, taking pictures and feeling far younger than their 30-something years.

“It was like Mission: Impossible. Go in, complete your mission, get out. We didn’t stay in any one place long, because we figured people would call the cops on us,” he says.

The coup of the day was at the Flamingo Hotel: “[My partner] made a daring, daring assault on the east face of the Flamingo Hotel; he led the bold traverse to the right of the entrance,” he reminisces, laughing. “He ran right in there, through the bushes, and started climbing. There were a bunch of people there. I was safely across the street taking photos.”

The morning buildering foray was the first and last for the duo, who have since restricted their climbing to real rock and indoor walls.

“The whole fun of it was that we were doing something we weren’t supposed to do,” he says. “It was a silly little adventure in our staid professional lives.”

Janet Wells, a frequent Independent contributor, is co-owner of the Vertex climbing gym in Santa Rosa.

From the July 17-23, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

The Scoop

Toxic Crops

By Bob Harris

FINALLY, someone’s come up with a clever way to dispose of industrial wastes like cadmium and lead and low-level radioactive garbage. Too bad it’s absolute cow fertilizer.

Toxic waste is pretty skanky stuff. You don’t want to bury it or drop it into the ocean, because it can leak into the food chain and start killing things. You could launch it into space maybe, but an in-flight explosion would be even worse.

So what do you do? Simple. Cut to the chase, and spray it directly on crops and grazing land.

You read right. Arsenic, lead, dioxin, and other industrial wastes are now being “recycled” into “fertilizer” and sprayed directly onto farmland.

Thanks to some remarkably dopey laws, waste from uranium processors, steel mills, and other industries is being loaded into silos, at which point it’s legally hazardous waste, and then literally emptied back out and sprayed into the food chain–at which point it’s legally fertilizer.

This is really happening. It’s widespread. And it’s legal, even though nobody knows yet how much toxic waste is therefore reaching America’s breakfast tables or what it does to us once it gets there. The state of Washington is running tests to find out right now.

Why is this legal? It saves money. The polluters don’t have to clean up their own mess, and state governments don’t have to make them. It’s a win-win deal, if you don’t include us actual citizens in the bargain. Y’know, kids who eat lead are subject to inhibited mental development. People who are willing to feed kids lead are inhibited in more serious ways than that.

USUALLY these little commentaries aren’t exactly rocket science. This one is, sort of. As you know, a black hole is a really really small thing that once was really really big: a giant star that eventually collapsed, creating a gravitational field that sucks everything –including light– into one singular dark mass.

That’s what’s happening with rocket-science Pentagon contractors these days, too. And nothing–smaller companies, tax dollars, useful products, etc.–can escape. Boeing and McDonnell Douglas are merging, and Lockheed Martin and Northrup Grumman are about to slam together as well.

Lockheed Martin was once three separate companies, but then Lockheed bought Loral and Martin Marietta; Northrup Grumman was three companies, too, until Northrup merged with Grumman and took over Westinghouse’s defense division.

But Lockheed Martin also bought the aerospace divisions of General Dynamics and General Electric. Then Raytheon bought Hughes’ and Texas Instruments’ defense divisions, Boeing bought Rockwell’s, and now they’re merging with McDonnell Douglas.

Still with me? Well, neither am I. But you can see how everything’s collapsing toward one big oligarchy.

Long ago, there was actual competition when defense contractors bid on new planes. Now the total of major companies is down to three and falling. So our national defense will be pretty much whatever the surviving Big Three come up with.

That’s not reassuring. Remember how well engineered American cars were in the 1970s? Same thing. In 10 years, our Top Gun fighter pilots might be in dogfights against exported Hornets and Tomcats and Falcons with brand-new B-5 Stealth Gremlins and F-26 Garden Weasels.

I feel safer already.

The only good news, if you can call it that, is that most of this crap is unnecessary anyway. The current U.S. military budget already exceeds that of the top 10 potential adversaries combined, so even if Cuba, North Korea, and Libya form some absurd alliance, we’ll do OK. Besides, we export three times as much weaponry as the entire rest of the world, so we can turn down the danger spigot if need be. The only people whose lives would be threatened are stockholders with dirty money.

What will the new defense giants be called? Well, when companies merge, sometimes they combine names. So if the two new giants ever join up, I’d like to suggest the new name for Lockheed Martin/Northrup Grumman /Boeing/ McDonnell Douglas.

Rearranging individual sounds, we get: “Greed men are all throwing down demands. Humbug. Lock ’em up.” Sounds like truth in advertising to me.

From the July 17-23, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Megan’s Law

0

Hell to Pay

By Paula Harris

FURIOUS AND FRIGHTENED Santa Rosa neighbors got their wish. Convicted child molester Russell Charles Markvardsen, target of protests after Sonoma County sheriff’s officials released his name, address, photograph, and criminal history on a landmark flier, is now behind bars in San Quentin.

His is the first arrest since the July 1 public release of the so-called Megan’s Law CD-ROM computer system, which lists the criminal records of 64,000 sex offenders statewide. The Sonoma County Sheriff’s Department became the first in the state to distribute “community alert” fliers about four high-risk registered sex offenders living in the county.

This move, later mirrored in several communities, and the CD-ROM–which local and state officials now acknowledge is riddled with errors–is drawing criticism from civil libertarians who see Megan’s Law as a flawed and potentially dangerous crime-fighting tool. “The law is irrational,” says Kelli Evans, a staff attorney for the American Civil Liberties Union of Northern California. “On the one hand, we want offenders to reform, but on the other, we make it impossible for them to live in a community and hold down a job.

“So people are going underground and moving from town to town, which also disrupts any treatment plan they may be undergoing.”

Last Wednesday morning, just hours before his arrest, Russell Markvardsen sat in his heavily curtained Beachwood Drive living room in the Roseland section of Santa Rosa, a seascape painting over the sofa and a pile of National Geographics under the coffee table. He spoke about the impact of the public disclosure. He denied having had contact with neighbors or making threatening phone calls as alleged by one neighbor.

He vowed to do nothing that could land him back in jail. “I’m still under parole; I’m not going to jeopardize that,” said the tense-faced 46-year-old, sitting rigidly in a white collarless shirt and blue jeans. He added that if he were sent back to prison, it would be his “death sentence,” because the disclosure of his sexual offenses against minors would place him in danger from other inmates.

Four hours after the interview, state parole agents, acting on a neighbor’s tip, abruptly arrested and jailed Markvardsen. According to deputy regional administrator Fran Berkowitz, Markvardsen had violated the terms of his parole by talking to neighborhood teens without officer permission.

According to the sheriff’s flier, Markvardsen had spent 12 years in prison for “sodomy with a person under 14 years old with force” in 1981, and “lewd and lascivious acts with a child under 14 years old” in 1991. Markvardsen claims the flier is inaccurate and that both counts involved consensual sex. But Acting Sheriff Jim Piccinini says the information, from the state Department of Justice, is presumed correct. A spokesman for state Attorney General Dan Lungren says that state officials stand by the discs, but that up to 75 percent of the addresses are wrong.

Released in 1994, Markvardsen registered with state officials as a sex offender and moved into the Roseland district three months ago. Until July 1, information about his crimes remained hidden from the general public. He’d planned to move to Alaska with his roommate when his parole cleared in 10 months.

Everything changed June 30, when sheriff’s deputies alerted neighbors. Markvardsen discovered one of the fliers, containing his own image, inside his mailbox. “Think of the worst thing that ever happened in your life and multiply that by a thousand,” he said of his response. “I knew then that everything I’d planned to do with my life was not going to happen.”

Two days after some 100 neighbors protested outside his home, demanding that he move elsewhere, Markvardsen lost his job with a tow-truck company. “[My employers] told me they’re afraid they could lose contracts,” he explained.

Without work, Markvardsen sat home all day while worried neighbors kept children indoors. Markvardsen said the finger-pointing made it virtually impossible to leave the house.

“Sonoma County sheriffs knew exactly the type of reaction they’d get. They wanted this reaction,” he complained. “They’re trying to make me an example, not just for our area, but for the whole state. I’ve followed the law, registered, had my picture taken, and done what I’m supposed to do. I’ve served my time. This is nothing more than the witches of Salem.”

Some legal experts and civil libertarians fear that Megan’s Law, which tests new legal waters by leaving enforcement mainly to the community–Markvardsen’s neighbors were told deputies would not increase patrols in their neighborhood–may incite hate crimes and vigilantism.

“People are becoming the subjects of increased community pressure and harassment. This case illustrates not only the harm to the offender, who has served his sentence and is trying to get his life back together, but also illustrates problems for the community,” explains Katherine Sher, legislative advocate with the California Attorneys for Criminal Justice.

“It sounds like the community information created a hysterical atmosphere,” agrees ACLU’s Evans, adding that in other communities sex offenders have become the target of vigilantes as a direct result of Megan’s Law.

For instance, two weeks ago, a van owned by a convicted child molester near Los Angeles was firebombed after the CD-ROM became available. In New Jersey, enraged neighbors beat an innocent man in his home because they had mistakenly identified him as a child molester. In Santa Cruz County, Vernon Robert Elliot, 56, was hounded from his home after sheriffs released his details. And in San Francisco this week, a man found faked Megan’s Law­style posters, accusing him of child molestation, plastered around his neighborhood.

Evans says the ACLU’s harassment hot-line has received reports of death threats, arson, and losses of jobs and housing because of the law.

Piccinini defends his decision to distribute the fliers and plans to continue. “It’s our obligation and responsibility to notify parents in the area. I’ve not had one complaint. Quite the contrary, people are saying ‘thank you,'” he says.

He’s also pleased that San Francisco police officials may take an even more aggressive stance on Megan’s Law, using cable TV and newspapers, as well as fliers to alert residents.

Meanwhile, Piccinini blames the news media for adding “a lot of fuel to the fire” during the Markvardsen situation. “It didn’t get volatile until the press got involved and gave it more attention than it would have gotten,” he says. However, sheriffs actively sought media coverage when they held a press conference and demonstration of the computer disc on June 30.

Margie Cone who organized the protest outside Markvardsen’s duplex, helped gather 135 petition signatures calling for his eviction, and had planned a second protest for alarmed and angry neighbors.

“It’s pretty scary. If [Markvardsen] says he’s no longer a threat to society, why is he labeled high risk?” asked neighbor Laurie Christani, a single mom with sons ages 14 and 16. “There’s too many kids in this neighborhood who feel threatened. Maybe if we get him mad enough he’ll leave,” she added.

Hours later, neighbors got their wish. On Friday, he was moved to San Quentin pending a hearing within 45 days. “If they find a preponderance of evidence, he may go back to jail for up to one year,” says Berkowitz.

“News [of the arrest] spread quickly,” says a relieved Cone. “A couple of hours later the kids came out.”

From the July 17-23, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Talking Pictures

0

Something Wild

By David Templeton

Writer David Templeton takes interesting people to interesting movies in his ongoing quest for the ultimate post-film conversation. This time out, he calls up self-styled UFO researcher John Price to discuss the extraterrestrial comedy Men in Black.

JOHN PRICE is a born storyteller. As founder of the UFO Enigma Museum in Roswell, N.M.–where joy-riding aliens may or may not have crash-landed in 1957–and having grown up under the shadow of his hometown’s “Martian Mecca” reputation, Price has heard so many “true” stories about flying saucers and such that he’s become a walking, talking reference library of UFO lore and legend.

Suggest a subject; he’ll come right back with whole string of well-spun stories. “Men in Black?” he says, when I phone him up at the sprawling barracks-like bunker that houses the atmospheric museum. “Sure, I can tell you about the ‘men in black.'”

Smack in the middle of Roswell’s 50th anniversary celebration of the event that many view as Day One of the invasion of planet Earth, Price’s yarn-spinning skills are warmed up and in high gear, the result of trading tales day and night. His museum, it seems–lovingly crammed with funky UFO “evidence” and even a full-sized diorama of the alien crash site itself–has been packing in the tourists and TV cameras from around the globe. Price has also been signing a lot of books. Roswell: A Quest for Truth (Truthseeker, $19.95) is his charming, folksy memoir of his life as a UFO researcher.

Not surprisingly, Men in Black, the movie, starring Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith as two of the well-dressed men in question, is an even bigger hit in Roswell than it is everywhere else, with lines of excited filmgoers wrapping around the block. In the wild, effects-driven romp–in which New York City has become a kind of Ellis Island for extraterrestrials looking for a home away from home–it is the “men in black” who diligently keep track of all the visitors, erasing all evidence of their existence while making sure they mind their manners.

“I saw it last night. It was very humorous,” drawls Price. “But I was rather surprised that the ‘men in black’ were portrayed as, you know, our people, working for our own government. Most people think they’re from some secret international organization.

“Some people . . . ,” and here his voice drops down to a conspiratorial murmur, “even think the men in black are aliens themselves.”

I experience a chill. A little one. Right down my back. Not so much from what Price says, but from the way he says it.

“So, um, who do you think they are?” I ask, shaking off the feeling. “Not sure,” he replies simply. “But tales of the men in black have been prominent since the 1950s. People claim that if they snap a picture of a UFO, or get some documentation–or get too close to a story–they are always followed around by men wearing black suits, who come into their homes, ask them a lot of questions, and take the evidence.”

He tells of a young couple he met who claimed they’d snapped some photos of a flying saucer and were soon visited by two dark-suited men who took the photos “for analysis,” not knowing that the couple had stored the negatives in their safe.

“When these two guys never came back,” Price says, “[the couple] went back to the safe, opened it up . . . ,” he pauses dramatically, “and the negatives were gone.”

Wham. Another chill. “So, do you believe this?” I ask.

“Don’t know,” he says shortly. “I guess about the wildest thing I ever heard was four or five years ago.” It seems that a woman came to the museum shortly after it opened, complaining that a man had persistently followed her for days after some UFO evidence had been uncovered by friends of hers.

“She said that she was driving down the highway, and she looked behind her down the road, and there was this guy in a black car, following her . . . ” He pauses, as I brace myself. “Several feet above the highway.”

Wham! A full shiver, head to toe. Price chuckles. “That one’s a little wild, even for me,” he says. “Sometimes you have to wonder if some of these people aren’t just plain fantasy-prone.” As for personal experience with the MIB, Price has decidedly mixed emotions.

“They’ve been here, sure,” he says. “Right after we opened the museum we would get mysterious people comin’ through, government written all over them. Real, real, real nice suits–not always black–but dark. Expensive shoes, GI haircuts. They wouldn’t ever speak. You could greet them and they’d just sort of . . . nod. They wouldn’t sign the guest book, and they’d kind of look quickly without really taking anything in. Then out the door they’d go.”

“Wasn’t that kind of scary?” I probe.

“No sir. I thought it was kind of fun myself,” he says, suddenly growing silent.

After a long pause, he continues. “I always said to myself that if they would just once try to shut us down, then I’d know we were on to something. That we had some real evidence here. Something important. I’ve always been a little bit disappointed that no one ever has. But we’re still collecting,” he adds brightly. “Sooner or later, they’ll be back.”

From the July 17-23, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Ben Harper

0

Rhythm of Life


Rick Oliver

Post-modern Bluesman: Ben Harper plays LBC.

Ben Harper’s will to live

By Sal Haldetica

IT’S THE NEXT STEP,” says Ben Harper, while discussing the songs on his latest disc The Will to Live. “It’s like crawling to walking to running to flying. Those are tough steps from one to the next.” If the buzz surrounding this album is any indication, Harper and his band the Innocent Criminals have taken off in fine style.

From the electrifying “Faded” to the gems “Roses from My Friends” and “Glory & Consequences,” Harper again is pushing through the envelope of his musical vision. The disc is drawing rave reviews and–cringe–prompting comparisons to folk-rock icon Bob Dylan and reggae superstar Bob Marley.

Of course, to hear Harper explain it, this album is just part of an ongoing musical evolution. “I can’t keep making records like Welcome to the Cruel World,” he says, referring to his bluesy 1994 debut. “I could, but I would never want to, because that’s the challenge of making the records that I make. They are not in one particular rhythm. It goes in different rhythms and movements in each record, song to song, extremely.

“I could have just made an entire rock record or an entire ballad record or an entire soul record, but that’s not my life. My life is different movements; it’s different rhythms in my heart and in my mind.”

Likewise, listeners can interpret them for themselves. “You can really hear into them quite well as far as what was going on either in my life, in my head, or in my heart,” he explains. “It really doesn’t matter, when it comes down to it, if it was something I lived through or something that I saw someone live through or something I read about. That doesn’t matter; it was just an emotion at the time that was musically inspirational to me.”

The songs that appear on this, his third release, were written during the band’s nearly two-year tour to support Fight for Your Mind. That tour took them from north to south, from the United States to such faraway places as Turkey and New Zealand. Along the way he’s been playing to a legion of fans that are hip to Harper’s sound. “The crowds have been really, really receptive, excited, and know the music. It’s a great joy to travel around the world and hear different languages sing the lyrics,” he says.

Meanwhile, Harper’s learned a bevy of musical and life lessons. “I’ve realized it’s quite a challenge to go from record to record, because no one is going to paint the same picture every time; no one’s going to take the same photograph and no one’s going to make the same record. People evolve and they grow and their lives grow.

“The bottom line is that you really can’t lose the firm grasp on the root of what it is you’re doing; you can’t lose grasp of the roots of where your music comes from. If you stay close to the root, then you really won’t lose the feeling and the spirit of where your songs come from to begin with.”

Ben Harper, plus Cool Bone, performs Sunday, July 27, at 8 p.m. at the Luther Burbank Center, 50 Mark West Springs Road, Santa Rosa. Tickets are $22.50. For information, call 546-3600.

From the July 17-23, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

101 Main

0

World Wise

Main Course: Laura Crettol of Sebastopol’s 101 Main tends to the wines and other libations.

Grateful food at 101 Main

By Steve Bjerklie

THE ROAD from Switzerland to Sebastopol trucks across mountains, oceans, cultures, and time no matter how you travel. In the case of Swiss native Volodia Crettol, chef and proprietor of 101 Main Bistro & Wine Bar in Sebastopol, the journey had a number of spurs–his years following the Grateful Dead, for example.

The trips into Deadland turned out to be productive: Volodia met his future wife, Laura, beneath the tie-dye sky. She now manages the front of 101 Main and oversees the wine list. Just as fortuitously, Volodia also made a stop at the California Culinary Academy in San Francisco.

The result of Volodia’s training, his partnership with Laura, his Swiss heritage and California sensibilities, and, yes, his continuing devotion to the Dead (there are carrot bits in the fish cakes) is a menu of surprises and joys nearly flawlessly executed.

Risking sacrilege, we proffer that Volodia cooks a lot better than the Dead often played.

The fish-cake appetizer, for example. Rather than dally with the stubborn flavor and mushy texture of Dungeness crab, Crettol blends rock shrimp and white fish into a moist, delicate patty; the carrot bits add just the right amount of structure. Dabbed with dill aioli and tasted after a bite of the plate’s lime-tinged jicama-carrot salad, the appetizer is a delight: flavorful, tender, complex. A house-made ravioli appetizer provides another delicate harmony. The slightly doughy texture and flavor of the portobello-and-fontina-filled ravioli blends beautifully with a sorrel cream sauce’s smooth tanginess. The greenish ravioli, dusted with paprika, look like peppered leaves of kelp bobbing in a white sea.

Somewhere in there is a Robert Hunter lyric.

Dusting, whether inspired by Mickey Hart’s high-hat cymbals or Switzerland’s proximity to the spice-rich Mediterranean countries, seems to be a Crettol trademark. A filet of fresh Atlantic salmon on the entrée menu is dusted with cornmeal; pork tenderloin is served in a whole grain-mustard crust; crumbled feta cheese tops baked polenta. The cornmeal-salmon combination is one that works a tad better on the plate than in the mouth, but I prefer juicier salmon than most.

Presented as an abstract of parallel lines like a bamboo fence, the fingers of lamb tenderloin were exceedingly tender and harbored none of the mustiness that sometimes flaws otherwise well-prepared lamb. A plum reduction sauce reminded me of Japanese cherries, while a vegetable combination of red bell peppers and snow peas tasted of the mandarins. The accompanying, and delicious, ginger, lemongrass, coconut milk, and shiitake orzo echoed–what?–Thailand? Tibet? Sugar magnolia?

Desserts, alas, are not so consistently excellent. A sensual, nearly erotic chocolate cake was offset by a disappointing “crème brûlée of the day,” an espresso-flavored sweet goo topped with a filmy skin of caramelized sugar rather than a glaze.

And the impressive, well-priced wine list was also disappointing in one regard: not enough wines offered by the glass. Any restaurant calling itself a “bistro & wine bar” as does 101 Main should emphasize individual sampling. A number of the listings encourage lust–the Williams-Selyem pinot noirs, for example, which are very rare, and Sean Thackery’s “Orion” syrah–but few of the list’s superstars are available for a taste.

101 Main’s experiments with combinations, textures, and creativity extend, with great and welcome subtlety, even to the house music, though no Dead tunes were in evidence. At one point, in a solo on the Duke Ellington/Louis Armstrong collaboration “C-Jam Blues,” the Duke riffs on a quote from “Rockin’ in Rhythm”–a clever, satisfying moment requiring experience, knowledge, creativity, and sheer joy.

Just the way 101 Main prepares its food.

Dinner for two with appetizers, entrées, desserts, and three wines each cost a buck over a C-note, an equitable total for a meal that, it lately occurs to me, fell short of wondrous by a mere dessert. Truck on over right now.

101 Main Bistro & Wine Bar

101 S. Main St., Sebastopol; 829-3212 Hours: Tuesday through Thursday and Sunday, 5:30 to 9 p.m.; Friday and Saturday, 5:30 to 9:30 p.m.; Sunday brunch, 10:30 a.m. to 2 p.m.; reservations recommended on weekends Food: Creative combos of fresh meats, seafoods, and vegetables Service: Thoughtful Ambience: Salvador Dali in a French castle Price: Moderately expensive Wine list: Impressive, with well-priced rarities Overall: ***

From the July 17-23, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

SF Mime Troupe

0

Being There


Pia Torelli

Who’s on Faust?: Velina Brown (left) and Ed Holmes (right) vie for the soul of Michael Oosterom in ‘Killing Time.’

SF Mime Troupe is serious about humor

By David Templeton

TAKE A LOOK at the cultural landscape of the country,” exhorts Bruce Barthol, composer/ lyricist of the legendary, Tony Award­winning San Francisco Mime Troupe. “Check the national Zeitgeist. Doesn’t it seem like we’re rushing headlong into the 1890s? Robber barons are running everything, the working class feels powerless, and it only seems to be getting worse.

“It’s a bizarre period in American history,” he laughs, adding, “There’s certainly no shortage of material for us to put up onstage. The times are ripe for political satire.”

And ripe political satire–in the form of elaborate musical productions with a fierce, funny, boldly in-your-face subtext–is exactly the stuff of the Mime Troupe’s genius. Despite its deceptively mute-sounding title (it hasn’t placed an emphasis on actual mime since 1962), this political theater company is, as its posters proclaim, “anything but silent!”

Unabashedly liberal, the troupe has a knack for skewering the various injustices of society while simultaneously making its audiences laugh and walk away humming, a neat trick that has propelled it to its status as one of the oldest, most respected political theater troupes in America.

Since its inception, the troupe has tackled such controversial subjects as racism and civil rights, the Vietnam War, CIA drug trafficking, food prices, housing shortages, the energy crisis, the moral majority, and similar social issues. Not surprisingly, it has made as many enemies as friends: In 1965 it was shut down in mid-performance by the city of San Francisco, a situation that gained it national attention and the support of the ACLU, an event that has repeated itself throughout its lively history.

Now, as the National Endowment for the Arts (a past supporter of the troupe’s free city park programs and its active tours of college campuses) is battling for its own life, the troupe is struggling to keep its touring schedule alive as its funding dwindles to a mere fraction of what it once was.

“The money has all but dried up,” agrees Barthol. “We view it as a form of censorship. There are plenty of people who’d prefer we were silent.” A 21-year veteran of the troupe, Barthol lives just outside the town of Sonoma, where the troupe, incidentally, will be performing Thursday, July 24.

The show, which debuted last month in Golden Gate Park in spite of the company’s financial woes, is a broad musical comedy titled Killing Time. In part about corporate downsizing, the farcical, Faustian show is the tale of Jacob, a longtime temp-worker with far more education than ambition, who is forced into a disturbing personal crisis.

Not only has a persistent bag lady–who claims to be receiving secret messages from President Clinton–proclaimed Jacob as the savior of the underclass, but he is also being courted as the successor to corporate giant Jack Belch, “King of the Downsizers,” who mistakes the hapless couch-potato for a man as economically ruthless as himself.

“It’s a funny show about a non-laughing matter, the basic economic reality of the country,” Barthol says. “And it’s got really great music.” The songs–written in part by Barthol, a former member of Country Joe and the Fish–are a mix of styles from contemporary rock to campy camp songs.

“What we’re doing is the kind of theater that was done in Greece,” he explains. “We put onstage the basic concerns of everyday people.” With the financial problems the troupe is facing, and the state of the arts in general, might this be our last chance to take in this kind of grassroots political theater?

“Naaah,” Barthol insists with a laugh. “Political theater has always been out of fashion. Then again, it’s always been in fashion. The point is, it may not always be popular with the powers that be, but it will always, always be here.”

Killing Time plays July 24 at the Sebastiani Theatre. On the Plaza, Sonoma. 7:30 p.m. Tickets are $12. Call 996-9756 or 546-BASS.

From the July 17-23, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Kurt Steger

0

Elements of Style


Michael Amsler

Totem Poles: Santa Rosa artist Kurt Steger’s “ritual” pieces are filled with fire and grace.

Artist Kurt Steger’s stick figures come to life

By Gretchen Giles

KURT STEGER’S STUDIO is located in what seems curiously to be the fish-packing district of Santa Rosa. The intrigue of discovering such a cityscape, cement-locked far away from any seagoing docks, almost distracts from such mundaneness as address. But a totem standing in Steger’s evolving Zen rock garden is sufficient to catch the eye. Knowing that Steger was a friend of the late and much-beloved assemblage artist Raymond Barnhart, one assumes that this must be the place, and that work must have been Barnhart’s.

One is always liable to make mistakes. For while this is the place, the totem isn’t Barnhart’s. It’s Steger’s, a piece that reflects–along with a few others–the power of the master artist’s mentorship.

An emerging artist with three years of single-minded devotion under his belt, Steger is being given the rare opportunity to mount a one-man show of his wood, rock, grass, and mud sculptural objects at the Cultural Arts Council’s SoFo 2 Gallery.

In CAC staffer Barbara Thoulion’s memory, only two other artists–the venerable abstract painter Horst Trave and well-regarded en-plein-air painter Jack Stuppin–have had such an honor. Titling the show “The Walking Stick Project,” Steger is deepening that trust, dedicating the exhibit to Barnhart’s memory.

“I wanted to do a show for Raymond,” Steger says simply, standing inside the organized garage that serves as his studio. “He was such an inspiration to me.”

Pointing to an elegant, found-object mingling of elements assembled into a piece hanging on the wall outside his studio, Steger explains that he had been fooling with the components of this assemblage piece the day of the 93-year-old Barnhart’s death in a freak auto accident last year, but had decided not to build it because of its resemblance to his friend’s work. When the sad news reached him, he changed his mind. “I said, ‘This is going to be just the way that it is,'” he remembers. Then he named the work “Raymond.”

Trained as a maker of cabinets and other furniture, Steger has respect for the elements of wood and of traditional style. He does little assemblage now, focusing instead on a progression of structures that began with what he calls “Altars to the Earth,” built along plumb lines, featuring the juxtapositions of rocks suspended in an exploration of space between the clean lines of wood. He then moved to what he terms “ritual” pieces, wooden structures that have been carefully burned, retaining both the markings of the fire and the intent of the artist to imbue the work with meaning and metaphor. And now he’s making–well, he’s not quite certain what he’s making.

“Now I am going to someplace that I’m not sure of,” he admits, beginning to draw down from their ceiling storage the large, wooden staffs he has fashioned for his one-man exhibit. “There’s something that feels really wonderful about these,” he says, stroking the smooth wood. Taller than most humans, the staffs have plate-sized “heads,” and the easy carriage of Masai warriors.

“They have a real primitive sense to them,” he says. Pointing across the studio to a darkened stairwell in which hangs one unfinished stick, her wood unsanded, white, and raw–her head unrealized–he says, “They’re all in pairs except for this one. But she’s standing her own ground. She seems to be watching over everything; she’s a very powerful force in the shop.”

Having begun “her” as the mate to another stick, Steger found himself unable to finish. Will he ever?

“I think I will,” he chuckles. “I’ve got a fish that goes on her head, and she’s a lot easier for me to deal with when she’s got the fish. My relationship to her is very strange. It took a lot of effort to get this far. That one over there was supposed to be her husband,” he points. “But he just couldn’t compete.”

Having lived a full professional life as a journeyman craftsman, Steger is now coming to terms with the artistic life. “My first pieces, the altar pieces, were really figured out–it’s just the nature of the pieces, to cut all the pieces of wood,” he says, hoisting a walking stick back up to its aerie. “And that’s changing. I’m getting to the point where I can just make an element and let it sit and become something else.”

“The Walking Stick Project” shows through August with a reception Friday, July 11, from 5:30 to 8 p.m. Steger gives a gallery talk on Wednesday, July 16, at 7 p.m. SoFo 2 Gallery, 602 Wilson St., Santa Rosa. Admission is free. 579-ARTS.

From the July 10-16, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Dishwalla

0

Dish ‘n’ Dat


Danny Clinch

Bad Hair Day: Dishwalla perform at the Sonoma County Fair.

Dishwalla dish up raw energy

By Spud Lincoln

SO, MAYBE you had heard about the next Next Big Thing, which comes after the last Next Big Thing, which was . . . whatever. In this particular case, that Next Big Thing includes Dishwalla, the Santa Barbara-based alt-rock band that scored a hit single, of sorts, with “Counting Blue Cars.”

OK, Dishwalla may or may not really be the Next Big Thing. In the fickle world of interchangeable pop stars, their hit already is, well, history, but you can bet the rent that highly touted Santa Barbara scene–you know, the one that was going to supplant the Seattle grunge scene (more ancient history)–never materialized, despite the best efforts of Toad the Wet Sprocket, Ugly Kid Joe, and an army of fawning record-industry publicists.

The reason: There is no Santa Barbara sound, though the place is rife with bands cranking out everything from speed metal to coffeehouse folk.

But back to Dishwalla. They rock. They’re cute. And they’re quirky, in their own way, which is the only way to be quirky.

Dishwalla–who took their moniker from the slang term for hi-tech guerrillas who bring free satellite dishes and pirated cable TV to impoverished villagers living in remote areas of India–emerged a couple of years ago as a no-name band contributing a lone track (“It’s Gonna Take Some Time”) to the big-name Carpenters’ tribute album.

That turned heads at A&M Records, which signed Dishwalla to release the band’s debut (Pet Your Friends), an MTV-friendly rocker littered lyrically with the likes of Elvis Presley, Emma Peel, Charlie Brown, a suicidal starlet, and Jesus Christ.

That makes Dishwalla one of the few alt-rock acts around to go directly from the club circuit to a major record label–a move that didn’t escape the calloused eye of jaded music critics. “Considering the fact that we didn’t have any money, we figured we might as well have the label pay for it at that point,” recalled Dishwalla frontman J. R. Richards in a recent LaunchOnline interview. “Have them mass produce it and put it out. So that’s what we ended up doing.”

As for the credibility thing, Richards just scoffs, “[It’s a problem] only in the hardcore cool critic’s eye. I mean, I’ve been in bands since I was 9 years old, so it’s not like we got signed as a fluke and here we are. We’ve been working for a long, long time. It’s just weird.

“It’s like there’s a lot of things that you’re supposed to do to be credible. Especially the whole weird ‘alternative’ thing. I feel there’s some sort of backlash that has happened against the whole thing.

“It’s becoming silly.”

Dishwalla perform Thursday, July 31, at the Sonoma County Fair, Sonoma County Fairgrounds, Santa Rosa. The concert is free with admission to the fair. Tickets are $5 general, $2 for youths 12 and under. 545-4200.

From the July 10-16, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Pearson & Co.

Dining In


Michael Amsler

Take-home-style Cookin’: Larry and Karen Pearson are helping to make livin’ easy.

Pearson & Co. makes it easy to eat at home

By Michael Hirschberg

SOCIOLOGISTS are always telling us that the stressful pace of life in the ’90s necessitates making compromises and learning to do without some of life’s simple pleasures–dining, for example. They reason that when both partners work for a living, no one has time to cook dinner.

But does dining well always mean having to dine out? If we agree that hiring a personal chef is not an option for mere mortals, how then can we relax and enjoy restaurant-quality food in the comfort of our own kitchens?

Yes, it’s always been easy to pick up a good pizza or Chinese dinner and bring it home, and, yes, we are blessed with several outstanding delicatessens–Traverso’s and Food for Thought both come to mind. But with the possible exception of Tote Cuisine in Montgomery Village or the Mixx Express in Railroad Square, Santa Rosa has been without the kind of purveyor of take-home restaurant-style food one can readily find in San Francisco or Berkeley.

Entrepreneur Larry Pearson and his family are attempting to fill that gap. In a small storefront next to the now defunct Petrini’s, they have established Pearson & Co. Done in appetizing tones of green and white, the space is clean, well-lit, and inviting. The shelves and refrigerator cases are stocked with a surprisingly extensive assortment of wonderful foods that makes driving away with a topnotch meal a breeze.

Working from a restaurant-style menu that changes weekly, Chef Gary Jenanyan (a former coordinator of the Robert Mondavi Great Chefs program) offers simple comfort foods like whole rotisserie chickens or garlic mashed potatoes alongside such exotic dishes as the Moroccan-inspired vegetables and couscous in a lemon-mint vinaigrette or hot and sweet Asian noodles with scallion and cilantro. His repertoire includes recipes from Asia, Mexico, and the Mediterranean, as well as traditional American favorites.

A refreshing salad of bowtie pasta tossed with rock shrimp, asparagus, and cilantro and another combining crisp jicama and creamy avocado with red onion and a dressing laced with lemon, cumin, and pepper were recently featured on the menu. Main dishes might include seared salmon filets and grilled flank steak. Interesting accompaniments like asparagus, potato gratin, and a layered polenta torta make it possible to create a balanced dinner plate.

There is an obvious flair for presentation demonstrated at Pearson & Co. Many of their products are reminiscent of the food pages of Sunset magazine with its focus on the bright, colorful, and fresh aspects of California cuisine.

Desserts, homey but satisfying, include the correctly named “astonishingly delicious chocolate pudding,” homemade gingerbread, fresh berry tarts, and bread pudding with apples and maple syrup.

For those of us who like to at least pretend that we went to some trouble in creating dinner, Pearson & Co. offers a terrific array of homemade stocks, sauces, salsas, dressings, and other staples of the restaurant chef’s larder, allowing the home cook, with a modicum of effort, to quickly prepare a seemingly complex meal. Also for sale is an extensive selection of imported olive oils, vinegars, cheeses, and pastas. There seems to be a growing emphasis on stocking local breads and foodstuffs as well.

Apparently Santa Rosans have embraced Pearson & Co.’s concept of fine food to go. Most weeknights a steady procession of customers leave the store with their dinners tucked under their arms. If sociologists are correct and the too-busy-to-cook trend continues, Larry Pearson hopes to open several satellite outlets as well. We shall see.

Pearson & Co. is located at 59 Fourth St., Santa Rosa (541-3868). It’s open Monday-Friday, 8 a.m. to 8 p.m.; Saturday, 9 a.m. to 6 p.m.; closed on Sunday.Michael Hirschberg owns and operates Mistral Restaurant in Santa Rosa.

From the July 10-16, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Santa Rosa Buildering

High Times If you build it, they will climb. By Janet Wells The general public considers climbing on buildings shocking and irresponsible behavior. The first and most important rule is: Watch your butt. You alone are responsible for your actions. --Marc Jensen "Buildering Ethics" REMEMBER that...

The Scoop

Toxic CropsBy Bob Harris FINALLY, someone's come up with a clever way to dispose of industrial wastes like cadmium and lead and low-level radioactive garbage. Too bad it's absolute cow fertilizer. Toxic waste is pretty skanky stuff. You don't want to bury it or drop it into the ocean, because it can leak into the food chain and...

Megan’s Law

Hell to PayBy Paula HarrisFURIOUS AND FRIGHTENED Santa Rosa neighbors got their wish. Convicted child molester Russell Charles Markvardsen, target of protests after Sonoma County sheriff's officials released his name, address, photograph, and criminal history on a landmark flier, is now behind bars in San Quentin.His is the first arrest since the July 1 public release of the so-called...

Talking Pictures

Something WildBy David TempletonWriter David Templeton takes interesting people to interesting movies in his ongoing quest for the ultimate post-film conversation. This time out, he calls up self-styled UFO researcher John Price to discuss the extraterrestrial comedy Men in Black.JOHN PRICE is a born storyteller. As founder of the UFO Enigma Museum in Roswell, N.M.--where joy-riding aliens may or...

Ben Harper

Rhythm of LifeRick OliverPost-modern Bluesman: Ben Harper plays LBC.Ben Harper's will to liveBy Sal HaldeticaIT'S THE NEXT STEP," says Ben Harper, while discussing the songs on his latest disc The Will to Live. "It's like crawling to walking to running to flying. Those are tough steps from one to the next." If the buzz surrounding this album is any...

101 Main

World Wise Main Course: Laura Crettol of Sebastopol's 101 Main tends to the wines and other libations. Grateful food at 101 Main By Steve Bjerklie THE ROAD from Switzerland to Sebastopol trucks across mountains, oceans, cultures, and time no matter how you travel. In the case of Swiss native...

SF Mime Troupe

Being TherePia TorelliWho's on Faust?: Velina Brown (left) and Ed Holmes (right) vie for the soul of Michael Oosterom in 'Killing Time.'SF Mime Troupe is serious about humor By David TempletonTAKE A LOOK at the cultural landscape of the country," exhorts Bruce Barthol, composer/ lyricist of the legendary, Tony Award­winning San Francisco Mime Troupe. "Check the national Zeitgeist....

Kurt Steger

Elements of StyleMichael AmslerTotem Poles: Santa Rosa artist Kurt Steger's "ritual" pieces are filled with fire and grace.Artist Kurt Steger's stick figures come to lifeBy Gretchen GilesKURT STEGER'S STUDIO is located in what seems curiously to be the fish-packing district of Santa Rosa. The intrigue of discovering such a cityscape, cement-locked far away from any seagoing docks, almost distracts...

Dishwalla

Dish 'n' DatDanny ClinchBad Hair Day: Dishwalla perform at the Sonoma County Fair.Dishwalla dish up raw energyBy Spud LincolnSO, MAYBE you had heard about the next Next Big Thing, which comes after the last Next Big Thing, which was . . . whatever. In this particular case, that Next Big Thing includes Dishwalla, the Santa Barbara-based alt-rock band that...

Pearson & Co.

Dining InMichael AmslerTake-home-style Cookin': Larry and Karen Pearson are helping to make livin' easy.Pearson & Co. makes it easy to eat at homeBy Michael HirschbergSOCIOLOGISTS are always telling us that the stressful pace of life in the '90s necessitates making compromises and learning to do without some of life's simple pleasures--dining, for example. They reason that when both partners...
11,084FansLike
4,606FollowersFollow
6,928FollowersFollow