Talking Pictures

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Master Race

By David Templeton

Writer David Templeton takes interesting people to interesting movies. This time out, he meets with a team of genetic bioethicists to discuss the disconcerting new techno-thriller Gattaca.

THE THREE BUILDINGS that house the Stanford University Center for Biomedical Ethics resemble nothing so much as a pleasant suburban apartment complex from the 1970s. What goes on inside, however, may end up guiding our society’s choices through the 21st century.

Labeled simply “A,” “B,” and “C,” these buildings are home to a world-class research facility devoted to studying the cultural effects of the increasing number of innovations within the medical and scientific industries.

Building A–my destination–is the headquarters of Stanford’s Program in Genomics, Ethics, and Society. This program–with its international assemblage of doctors, scientists, ethicists, philosophers, lawyers, and psychologists–was established three years ago to study the far-reaching implications of applied genetic research, including the controversial fields of genetic testing and engineering.

Last week, a band of PGES researchers went out on an unofficial field trip to see the new film Gattaca. Set in the near future, this provocative film imagines a world in which human genetic engineering has created a two-class social system, with an upper class of laboratory-manufactured citizens called “valids,” who get all the good jobs and perks, and a lower class made up of “in-valids,” those poor slobs unfortunate enough to be born by means of that genetic crapshoot called sex. The story follows one such in-valid (Ethan Hawke) who, longing to become an astronaut, uses the borrowed DNA–blood samples, loose hairs, dead skin cells–of a disabled valid in order to enter Gattaca, a corporate-sponsored school for genetically pure future space travelers (set in Frank Lloyd Wright’s Marin Center).

I am met by Dr. Sally Tobin, a renowned molecular geneticist and PGES senior research fellow who is developing an exhaustive CD-ROM tool to educate physicians about the Human Genome Project, an international undertaking that seeks to build a genetic map of the human species. As we make our way toward the bright, book-lined conference room, Tobin is joined in turn by lawyer and PGES fellow Margaret Eaton, administrative assistant Heather Silverberg, PGES coordinator Laura McConnell, and Anne Moyer, a Ph.D. in social and health psychology. As we seat ourselves, it becomes clear that the consensus on Gattaca is split, with a few claiming to have found it to be an uplifting film, and the rest having found it merely scary.

“Scary in that you walk into a genetically engineered society, where parents can create fertilized eggs that are genetically tested to select the best,” Eaton explains. “The valids are intelligent, tall, good-looking, athletic–perfect. That’s the scary part. The uplifting part is that someone who doesn’t have those genetically produced attributes is able to succeed despite the fact that he’s discriminated against. It’s not a hopeless world.”

“One of the ways you could view this movie,” says Silverberg, “is as a commentary on our striving for perfection.”

“Good point,” Tobin continues. “Think about it. If the world is made up of perfect people, there’s still going to be number two and number three.”

“Even the fellow with the genetic pedigree that allowed him to be in the Gattaca program admits at one point that he has a fear of heights,” says Moyer. “That may be a commentary on the idea that, even with your best efforts, you’re not going to get it quite right, you’re not going to take everything into account.”

“Was that something the genetic engineers missed?” I ask. “There’s no gene for acrophobia, is there?”

“We don’t know that,” Tobin replies. “There might be.”

“The other thing I thought about the movie,” Eaton says, “is it created a context I’m not sure is going to exist. The point of all the biotechonology research going on today is that we want to learn about your genetic makeup so we can prevent you from getting sick or can treat your illnesses. Here is our hero with all these predilections for disease, but they don’t talk about treating it. They didn’t talk about the use of genetics for positive purposes; the only context in which it was shown was as discriminating against defective people.”

“I think that, generally speaking, the public is going to look at this movie and they’re going to be afraid,” McConnell suggests. “Afraid that genetics is going to reduce us all to this. It’s going to take a lot of secondary thinking to arrive at the conclusion that these are the problems of a genetically engineered society. That this is how it’s not going to work.

“And its underlying point,” SIlverberg adds, “is that if we don’t address some of these issues, we may end up there.”

“It’s not that big a jump, is it, from what we’re doing now?” I ask. “We routinely use amniocentesis to determine a genetic predisposition.”

“That’s just reproductive freedom,” Moyer points out. “There is an ethical debate about how far we’ll take that. If we select out those kinds of diseases, will someone come along and select out other traits?”

“See, but I don’t think that’s the future,” Eaton insists. “And I don’t think this film is the future. I have more faith in our ability collectively, as a society, to watch out for the negative stuff. Look at cloning. Someone clones a sheep and instantly there are worldwide moratoriums on cloning research. We can control ourselves.

“Though I’m not saying we don’t have the potential to do monstrous things,” she adds, as–around the table–heads nod. “The potential is definitely there. I just believe we’ll rise above it.”

From the Nov. 6-12, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Johnny Otis

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Soup’s On!


Table Manners: Johnny Otis samples his Greek egg-lemon soup in his Sebastopol kitchen.

Photo by Michael Amsler



At table with the incomparable Johnny Otis

By Gretchen Giles

JOHNNY OTIS’ kitchen isn’t much different than the well-lived-in hearth of any other Sebastopol grandparent’s home. Living with wife Phyllis and grandson Lucky, as well as hosting several friends, kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids on a regular basis, Otis lives in a clean clutter. There are cases of soda stacked up on the counter, a bowl of fruit on the table, gardening gloves lying next to the telephone answering machine, a bunch of dried lavender in a vase, a recorked half-bottle of red wine, and olive oils, Parmesan cheese, canned foods, and other comestibles lining the counters.

Then, one’s eye glances lazily at the Rolodex standing open to a card inscribed “Alvin, Dave–The Blasters,” with Alvin’s home telephone number printed neatly below.

Oh. We’re at Johnny Otis‘ house. Rhythm and blues legend, Rock and Roll Hall of Famer, former candidate for state assembly, preacher, painter, sculptor, cartoonist, organic-apple farmer, bird fancier, avid fisherman, KPFA radio-show host, children’s advocate, samaritan, and now–published cookbook author: Johnny Otis.

This ain’t no regular grandpa.

“OK, kids, time to go to the pig-out room,” Otis intones in his distinctive voice. Wearing a dark windbreaker and blue apron, he lifts up a steaming pot of soup and nods his head toward the dining room. It’s lunchtime.

Today, in honor of his newly published cookbook, Red Beans & Rice and Other Rock ‘n’ Roll Recipes (Pomegranate; $16), Otis is kindly hosting a reporter and photographer at his table, as well as serving up the soup for long-standing chum Cam Parry, the second voice on Otis’ popular Saturday morning KPFA 94.1 FM show. Although an extra hour has been added to the show (it now extends from 9 a.m. to noon), other projects in Otis’ ambitions have shrunk. The church he established at the Luther Burbank Center earlier this year has closed for lack of funds; his long-hoped-for community center, the Johnny Otis Center for the Arts–with its emphasis on health care for underserviced children–is on hold; and his long-standing Saturday night gig at Santa Rosa’s downtown club the Funhouse has been suspended on Otis’ orders. He’ll be appearing regularly at another venue early next year, at a place whose name Otis enjoys keeping shrouded in mystery.

Because even at age 73, Otis is not a man to slow down. With another partner and Parry, Otis is writing You Made Me Love You, a Broadway musical. Set around the Golden Gate Fields horse track in the heyday of the ’40s, this frothy costume comedy spotlights a society gal trying to heal her heart after breaking off with Gary Cooper. A cast album of You Made Me Love You, slated to be recorded with members from the long-running San Francisco production of Phantom of the Opera this fall, features some 24 songs written by Otis.

Johnny’s recipe for Greek Egg-Lemon Soup

IN THE DINING ROOM, Phyllis, Otis’ wife of 42 years, declines to eat, but has laid a table with fresh garden roses and a pink cloth, lovely china, and gleaming cups. Ever the lithe young thing, I clumsily push down on the tabletop as I rise up from my chair and, with a lurch of the vase and a sickening sound, the table breaks. We catch it and the photographer squats under the tablecloth tinkering until a bolt is reapplied. Order restored, we sit once again, unfolding our napkins in our laps.

Ladling out the Greek egg-lemon soup with chicken that he’s prepared the night before, Otis, who is of Greek descent, denies any expert culinary ability. “Hey, let’s back all the way up,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m no chef, I just like to cook when someone comes over.” While discussing book ideas with an editor at Rohnert Park’s Pomegranate Books publishing house, the idea for Red Beans & Rice just popped out of his head. When the editor jumped, Otis had to, too. Calling on friends and family, he devised a 120-page tome to rock-‘n’-roll cooking on the road and friendly, easy eating at home.

“Those are not all my recipes, you understand,” he says, taking a bite of the salad with Kalamata olives, baby corn, fresh greens, and cherry tomatoes that Phyllis has prepared. “But through my trips through the South [in the ’40s-’50s with his all-African-American band], if the town wasn’t big enough to support a black hotel, we had nowhere to stay. Nowhere to eat.”

Carefully drizzling olive oil over a slice of feta cheese, he continues. “The promoters would arrange for us to stay in black homes. And when that happened, very often it was in a rural area, where we’d be in a farmhouse and there’d be all kinds of good smells coming from that kitchen, and I’d just go into that kitchen and hog that kitchen and ask them [about the food].

“Because there’s no one that can cook that pastry and that soul food the way that they do down in the South.”

Unless, of course, they happen to be in a hotel room–anywhere in the United States. Living tight, Otis and his band quickly grew tired of the high prices and low satisfaction of restaurant food while on the road. That’s when transportation manager William “Blik” Avant took over. Traveling with two suitcases devoted to nothing but hot plates, pots, pans, and seasonings, Blik cooked nightly for the band, wet towels pressed against the door to keep the illicit smells of room-cooking from seeping into hotel hallways.

“Blik didn’t have to stay up until 3 in the morning playing a gig,” Otis explains, supping his delicately flavored, yellowy soup. “So, he’d get up early and prepare a lot of nice things.” In a Red Beans & Rice aside, Otis reports the instance when an angry hotel manager became so swayed by the smells of the steak smothered in onions, fresh collard greens, and apple cobbler Blik had prepared in one of his rooms that instead of booting the band out, he stayed for dinner–every night for the following two weeks.

We eat for a long time. Garlic toasts appear and are eaten. Herb-inflected feta cheese is offered, fresh lemon slices passed, and more chicken proffered to complement the soup. Dessert is “jive pie,” an apple wonder in a homemade crust that this songwriter, whose ’50s hit “Hand Jive” has out-clapped many other songs of the era, had made earlier in the week and then protected fiercely from his household tribe. Of course we have ice cream.

Otis’ property includes the aviary where he keeps his 100 or more fancy pigeons (he used to tend some 800 birds and now considers himself frugal in his collecting); the koi pond protected by statues of the Three Tons of Joy–former backup singers whom Otis, a painter and sculptor with a fiercely primitive appeal, has immortalized in kinetic plaster–the life-sized figures frozen in mid-dance, naked and huge and bearded with cobwebs; the recording studio; the art studio; the apple orchard; the rehearsal space; and that small hillside just to the west of the house where two ostriches are kept.

As we wander outside after the still-stable table has been cleared, Parry points with a laugh to the large fishing boat that dominates Otis’ back driveway. “Tell her about when you bought this,” he prompts. Otis chuckles.

The dealer had an itch in his brain about Otis’ name. He knew that he was Someone. Was he involved in the music industry? Yes, Otis nodded modestly. “‘Oh, I know,'” Otis now mimics, wagging his finger in mock excitement. “‘I know! ‘Dock of the Bay!’ That’s my favorite song!'”

Clapping his hands together and digging his heels into the warm gravel of his Sebastopol spread–surrounded by family, friends, pets, his orchards, and his art–Johnny Otis lifts his face to the sun and laughs.

From the Nov. 6-12, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

African-Americans in Early California

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Free at Last

By Gretchen Giles

How does it feel to be a problem? I answer seldom a word. And yet, being a problem is a strange experience.
–W.E.B. Du Bois, 1902

AH, THE GOLDEN STATE. Imagine California in the late 1700s: our tawny hills laid down like great sleeping hands, sloping from knuckles to tips into green valleys shaded by oaks. Creeks run sweet, berries proliferate, poison oak grows glossy and unfettered, and lumbering bears paw honey and grubs out of trees. Climb to the top of this hill and see the San Francisco Bay glittering in the clear, clean air. Make camp near that watering hole and know that you won’t see another human for days.

Nary a microwave tower nor a strip mall desecrates the scene into which rides a large, dusty group of men straddling road-weary horses. But this is where the scene shifts, the focus racks, the camera pulls in tighter. Because this party doesn’t have the squinting white faces of a Clint Eastwood western, Caucasian riders elegantly filthy in Italian-designed leather chaps.

These men are from Mexico, Spain, the West Indies, and Africa. These men are the explorers, the landlords, and the titans of the land called California. “We’re talking about cowboys. They truly were black cowboys,” says Sonoma County Museum curator Evangeline Tai, standing in the upstairs offices of the Santa Rosa-based museum. Investigating such historical figures as a tracker known simply as El Negre–one of California Governor Gaspar de Portolá’s explorers who, in 1769, is credited with being the first of the party to spot San Francisco Bay–and Pio Pico, the last Mexican governor of California, whose heritage was almost as much African as Mexican, Tai on Nov. 7 begins displaying “Rivers of Hope, Rivers of Change: The African-American Experience in Sonoma County.”

Using historical artifacts from area families, records from the local chapter of the NAACP, and items culled from other Bay Area museums, Tai and guest presenter Darius Spearman–a graduate student of history at Sonoma State University with a focus on the local African-American community–have scoured the North Bay looking for clues to the local black experience.

What Tai terms “the black west” probably didn’t make it all this far north until streams of freed slaves and others came here searching for freedom, land, and that shiny dust that caused so much of a ruckus in ’49. The migration probably “stopped in Marin County, evidently around the Headlands,” says Tai. “That’s where the documentation gets kind of fuzzy. Some say that they made it all the way up to Sonoma County; others say that is not correct, that they made it north to Point Reyes, but didn’t come east to Sonoma County.”

Fuzzy or no, by the full flower of the 20th century, parts of Sonoma County were beginning to attract African-American settlers, most notably one John Richards, who is credited with founding the South Park area of Santa Rosa, a portion of the city still welcoming to recent arrivals, and most commonly today, to Eritrean refugees.

Other prominent past citizens are Mary Ellen Pleasant, the former bordello owner and abolitionist whose last request was honored when her gravestone was inscribed with the words “I was a friend of John Brown’s.” Settling on the Beltane Ranch, this Bay Area land baroness comfortably nested on the estimated $30 million she amassed between 1860 and 1890 through a series of shrewd investments, both personal and financial.

Healdsburg resident Smith Robinson, a This Is Your Life honoree, is also highlighted for his efforts during the Korean and Vietnam wars to bolster the spirits of American soldiers and to rally support at home.

“What we’re looking at,” says Spearman, a records technician at Santa Rosa Junior College, “is the different ways that people have stepped up to answer the question of how you mainstream yourself.

“This has been a very interesting journey for me,” Spearman muses of the time that it’s taken to research this project. “It’s really demonstrated the ways that blacks have stepped from the
margins.”

“Rivers of Hope, Rivers of Change: The African-American Experience in Sonoma County” opens with a reception on Friday, Nov. 7, from 6 to 8 p.m., and runs through Feb. 22. A docents’ orientation begins that day at 10 a.m. Darius Spearman speaks on his research on Saturday, Nov. 15, at 1 p.m. Sonoma County Museum, 425 Seventh St., Santa Rosa. 579-1500.

From the Nov. 6-12, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Spins

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Still Unique


Voodoo Chile, Slight Return: Pyrotechnic wizard Jimi Hendrix.



Restorations of Hendrix’s mastery

Jimi Hendrix
South Saturn Delta
(MCA)

THE RECENT REISSUING of
Jimi Hendrix’s recordings through his family’s supervision continues with stellar results on South Saturn Delta. This batch of rare cuts and loose ends complements First Rays of the New Rising Sun, which was released earlier this year in an attempt to assemble what Hendrix’s fourth studio album would have been (like Cry of Love and Voodoo Soup) if Hendrix’s untimely 1970 death hadn’t cut his career short. South Saturn Delta takes in demos with the Experience as well as restored mixes of work with his later funk-rock ensembles, such as Band of Gypsys, and–as usual –the annotated booklet is superb. Hendrix’s mastery of blues vocabulary was always full of pop instincts, abstract flare, and screaming guitar dynamics. The title track, with sax, horn, and guitar interplay and odd rhythms, is still unlike anything we’ve heard since.
–Karl Byrn

Richie Havens
Live at the Cellar Door and the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium
(Five Star)

FEW PERFORMERS emerging from the ’60s folk revival display as much raw instrumental power or the uncanny ability to interpret songs as singer, songwriter, and guitarist Richie Havens–the Woodstock-era icon often heard on TV jingles. This new CD, featuring for the most part previously unreleased material from 1970 and 1972, captures Havens in his prime, forcefully rendering works by Bob Dylan, Fred Neil, and George Harrison, among others. The earlier Cellar Door sessions–driven by his percussive, strummed-guitar style and slightly hoarse voice–spawned the hit single “Here Comes the Sun,” the Harrison composition from Abbey Road. But the rest of these live tracks–including a soulful version of Billie Holiday’s “God Bless the Child”–languished for more than 25 years. Today, they cast a warm glow that, while echoing the social and political turbulence of the times, blankets the listener in a comforting, sonorous aura. Great stuff.
–Greg Cahill

Everclear
So Much for the Afterglow
(Capitol)

EVERCLEAR SHINES among the many one-hit wonders left by the ’90s alt-rock explosion. The catchy abandon of their 1996 hit “Santa Monica” (with its rollicking chorus of “I don’t wanna be the . . . baaaaaad guy!”) drove the disc Sparkle and Fade to platinum sales, but oversaturation on radio and MTV quickly made the group objects of hip disfavor. Sparkle and Fade was meatier than that sharp hit, as frontman Art Alexakis expressed a compelling, explosive, and highly personal version of the post-Nirvana punk/grunge formula. Everclear’s not-so-subtly titled So Much for the Afterglow blares a bit more gingerly down that same path: The songs are less confessional stories than accusatory portraits, and the crescendoing fervor of delivery is now a more even pop-punk shuffle. The jerky, two-note riff from “Santa Monica” appears again in “I Will Buy You a New Life” and “Father of Mine,” and even surfaces in the metallish instrumental “El Distorto de Melodicas.” Banjos, organs, and nods to the Beach Boys don’t quite freshen the sound, and as if to acknowledge the difficulty in making a dynamic follow-up, the band delivers the song “One Hit Wonder” as though it were an anthem. If So Much for the Afterglow isn’t Everclear’s glory moment, Alexakis’ ragged quest to break from a lost past into a brighter future still gives Everclear its kernel of truth.
–K.B.

From the Nov. 6-12, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

The Scoop

Colorful CIA

By Bob Harris

MY BUDDIES MATT and Heidi recently sent along an interesting Help Wanted ad, occupying almost a whole page of the October Ebony magazine.

The ad promises the “ultimate overseas experience . . . for the extraordinary individual” possessing “an adventurous spirit, a forceful personality, and the highest degree of integrity.”

It’s a want ad from the CIA.

That’s right–the Central Intelligence Agency has begun openly recruiting from U.S. minority communities for covert operations in the Third World. Right there in Ebony, the CIA bluntly states: “We are particularly interested in candidates with backgrounds in Central Eurasian, East Asian, and Middle Eastern languages . . . foreign language proficiency, previous residency abroad are pluses.”

And they’re not recruiting for the semi-respectable part of intelligence–the grunt work of reading foreign newspapers, developing contacts, then assembling and analyzing the data so our leaders can make informed decisions. The Ebony ad is for what the CIA calls “Clandestine Service” –the breaking-laws-and-overthrowing-leaders stuff that can start wars–or as the CIA describes it: “a way of life that will challenge your deepest resources . . . including fast-moving, ambiguous and unstructured situations.”

Um, that’s one way of putting it, I guess.

Sounds good to you? Great. Sign yourself right up, although you’ll first have to pass a psychiatric exam, a polygraph interview, and a thorough background check. So if you don’t mind asking the CIA to crack open your head and examine your life with a fine-toothed comb, go for it.

There is one catch: The starting salary is only about $40K. So forget any daydreams about Sean Connery and Jill St. John sipping claret on a yacht off Capri. Picture yourself more like, oh, Tom Arnold driving a Skoda around the potholes of Bratislava. And imagine a minority Tom Arnold, since the CIA already has plenty of white people.

Still interested? Just send the CIA your résumé. And if you forget the return address, don’t worry. If they want you, they’ll find you.

I OFTEN RESEARCH these little tirades on the Internet.

Unfortunately, some folks think the Net is only gossip and pornography, but that’s just what they show on TV–which is itself mostly gossip and pornography. So there you are.

Actually, most every major newspaper is online. So are reference libraries on everything from high-energy physics to Shakespeare. Hey, you want to know who paid for your senator’s latest campaign? You can find out online in a matter of minutes.

And the best part is you can use computerized search engines to do most of the work. You type a few words summarizing what you’re looking for, and in seconds, bang! you’re there.

I’ve always been a little curious to see what other people are searching for: serious stuff or pictures of Jenny McCarthy fondling a tractor? As of last week, one search engine, Metacrawler, now has an option where you can sit back and watch other people’s search requests go by.

I took a peek. It’s really cool.

The first search I saw was for “Wallflowers tour dates”–OK, that’s the band headed by Bob Dylan’s son. Respectable enough. Then came “Volvo 240 plug gap”–some rich guy is tuning up his car. Hey, this feels like an eavesdropping version of Jeopardy! Next was “Tiger Woods and Buddhism”–hmm.

I don’t see the connection. Sounds like an Al Gore fundraiser.

Yeah, people do look for naked pictures, maybe one search in 10. Somebody out there the morning I was tuned in had a major thing for “Dawn Wells,” Mary Ann from Gilligan’s Island. Somebody needs to find something to do.

But the good news is that’s precisely what most of the planet seems to be up to–and I do mean the planet. In less than five minutes, I also saw searches for “École ingénieur” (French for “school engineer”); “trabajo y secretaria” (Spanish for “job and secretary”); and “Stahleisenprüfblatt Arbeit,” which I think is German for “sheet metalworking job” (or maybe it’s some kind of foamy lager; mein Deutsch ist sehr furchtbar).

Granted, this polyglot job quest might indicate the global economy ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, but that’s another story.

The point is, most people do seem to be using the Internet responsibly.

Now if only we could use TV and other media the same way.

From the Nov. 6-12, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Sonoma Rainfall

Muddy Waters


David Licht

A River Romps Through It: Debris-choked flood waters spilled over River Road in 1995 after storms killed one person and caused several million dollars in property loss, destroying or damaging 1,500 homes. River residents worry that steep-slope planting of vineyards, development, and siltation could compound problems.

Climatologists predict record rainfall this year as Russian River residents brace for nature’s wrath–and what some say is the backwash of man’s fallacies

By Christopher Weir

WITH THE RESURGENTEl Niño already being blamed for virtually everything from hurricanes to the Oakland Raiders’ dismal record, one thing seems certain: The rogue phenomenon will unleash a troublesome dose of flood-instigating rainstorms upon Sonoma County this winter. Or will it?

As the local daily proclaimed in a recent subhead, “The North Coast could be in for severe weather–or it may escape unscathed.” Never has something so speculative been met with such morbid anticipation by local, regional, and national news media. But if El Niño does, indeed, live up to its billing, then there will likely be hell to pay on the local front. And since everyone is in such a speculative mood these days, perhaps it’s time to dredge up the unpopular question: Why? That is, why do flood events in Sonoma County appear to be intensifying even under apparently normal weather conditions?

Some suggest that this perception is just misperception. The historical record, after all, reveals that the Russian River has crested above flood stage 40 times over the past 41 years. Meanwhile, as more people have moved into the floodplains, the human toll has become more acute. Throw in the recent 7-year drought, and suddenly the watershed’s natural inclinations seem the stuff of anomalous catastrophe. The flood issue, however, is not that simple. Because while historical records show peak flows and flood frequencies, they don’t reveal the Russian River watershed’s spatial and behavioral changes over time for a given volume of water.

“Nobody’s really looking at how flood levels are changing according to the size of the floods,” says Laurel Marcus, a local hydrologist. “For example, is a 10-year flood creating more problems than it used to? There are all sorts of variables, so that’s not a simple question.”

Those variables are receiving increased attention in the wake of last January’s floods, which many county residents felt were excessive, rising faster than in recent memory and in the absence of saturating precipitation, at least relative to the rainfall amounts. And of those variables–everything from watershed development to allegedly misguided flood-control projects–siltation remains the most provocative.

“If you’ve got a river channel with a certain capacity and silt material comes out of the water and settles in the bottom of that channel, it’s going to decrease the capacity of that channel,” says Dennis Wilson, an independent civil engineer based in Forestville. “When this happens over many years, that decrease is significant. Is this happening or not? Common sense tells me that, yes, it is happening, because that silt doesn’t just disappear, and it all doesn’t flow into the Pacific Ocean.”

Wilson says he’s not armed with hard data, just intuition, anecdotal reports from riverfront residences, and personal experience. For example, he has seen survey monuments no more than 20 years old buried beneath eight feet of silt in the Steelhead Beach area. And he suggests that the accumulation of municipal development and certain agricultural practices–especially steep-slope planting of vineyards on former forestland–is the primary culprit.

“When I see this degree of siltation, it just seems obvious to me that it’s going to cause flooding,” he says. Others, however, are not convinced that siltation is a major flood factor in the main stem of the Russian River.

“You can certainly say that there’s more sediment running through the system,” says Joan Vilms, president of Friends of the Russian River. “There’s no question about that. Whether it’s being built up in some places and depleted in others, or whether it’s a consistent buildup, I can’t say. . . . Sediment is somewhat like sand dunes, in that it’s dynamic. It’s really hard to get a handle on it. You can’t really say just because somebody’s fence is covered up that the whole plain is now at that level.”

Noting that the Russian River system is “disturbed and altered,” Marcus says that determining the capacity impacts of siltation would be an exceedingly complex proposition. Silt is not only “highly mobile,” but also very responsive to both the natural and the unnatural dynamics of the river system.

“When you pave an area, you create so much more runoff . . . that you can gully a creek and move out more silt than is coming in,” she says. “And you can have an increased silt load below a grading site that may sit there one winter but be completely flushed downstream and out to sea the next winter.”

Nevertheless, Wilson’s intuitions are being confirmed in some river tributaries and floodplains, including the Laguna de Santa Rosa. While maintaining that siltation is not a flood issue in the river’s main stem, George Hicks, deputy chief engineer at the Sonoma County Water Agency, adds that “the Laguna de Santa Rosa has been silting up, and the source is in the upper watershed areas.”

The Laguna de Santa Rosa is crucial to local flood mitigation and holds as much water attenuation capacity as Warm Springs Dam. The water agency is currently conducting a study to assess the amount and impacts of siltation in the laguna.

Erosion and siltation are also playing supporting roles to another element of the flood equation: accelerated storm-water runoff from developed lands and drainage systems. While the degree to which accelerated runoff is exacerbating flood events remains a matter of debate, it’s clear that continued watershed development and related erosion-control measures are increasing the rapidity and volume of water flowing from the watershed and into the river system.

THE CONVERSION of sloping wildlands to vineyards is the current flashpoint in the development angle, with the 500-acre Gallo project on Westside Road drawing the most fire. With sediment and silt increasingly recognized as significant Russian River pollutants causing harm to steelhead trout populations, agricultural developments–especially hillside vineyards–are compelled to establish efficient drainage systems to minimize the erosional impacts of storm-water runoff.

But while such drainage reduces sediment loads, it intensifies the runoff that is already accelerated by the removal of native vegetation. According to Dr. Martin Griffin, local conservationist and owner of the Hop Kiln Winery, the Gallo project will have a serious impact on the water loads in nearby tributaries. “The water drops into these big pipes at the end of each vineyard row on the slopes, and then it goes right into Porter Creek and into the river,” he says. “It’s an industrial drainage system that’s equivalent to what’s used in cities.”

Included in Gallo’s plans is the cutting and conversion of 174 forest acres. In such cases, Griffin says, “You’ve lost the vegetation that slows the impact of the water. . . . Trees drip water for days, for weeks, and the soil absorbs it through root systems. Then it gradually moves downhill, and that’s what keeps the river and creeks full in the summer: the slow release of water from the watershed.”

Last week, Gallo announced plans to hold off on the project for a year. Though the winery has not yet withdrawn its application to cut down the trees, doing so would make anEIR legally unnecessary.

He adds, “Gallo is just one of the biggest conversion problems. It’s happening all up and down the river, on the ridges. Every time they clear an acre up on the steep hillsides, they’re just increasing the flood potential for Guerneville.”

Vilms agrees, saying, “Every time you drain an area faster, it does two things: It eliminates the ability of that land to hold water, and it races that water more quickly downstream.”

Griffin and Vilms both maintain that while gravel mining has created in-stream pits that ostensibly increase the river’s capacity, the resultant channelization of the banks has simply heightened the pace at which water is delivered downstream.

That floodplain development and subsequent stream channelization is the most insidious factor in the changing flood dynamic, Vilms adds. The channelizing of Santa Rosa Creek, for example, “was successful in eliminating the flooding from that area, but by doing so, you just caused it someplace else. It’s a zero-sum game. There’s only so much water and only so much land, and if you build on one floodplain and eliminate its capacity to hold water, then you’re taking that water and delivering it downstream to somebody else who already has their own load to deal with.

“We should be finding places to retain water rather than accelerating drainage.”

Others, however, are not convinced that development is having a measurable impact on local flood events. “You have 1,500 square miles in the Russian River watershed,” says Mike Thompson, a civil engineer with the Sonoma County Water Agency. “And when you look at the developed areas, it’s really minor with regard to the entire watershed.”

Hicks suggests that development in the lower watershed may even be mitigating flood impacts. “You want to retain water in the upper watershed and get water out of the lower watershed,” he says. Lake Sonoma and Lake Mendocino enhance water retention in the upper regions, while development can accelerate drainage in the lower regions, he says. “So you take the volume and you’re spreading it out. Your volume is the same, but the impact on people and property is significantly reduced if you can spread it out.”

He adds, “Generally speaking, the development in Sonoma County is beneficial, or at least not additive” to local flood scenarios.

ACCORDING to Marcus, however, development and urbanization manipulate the volume, timing, and intensity of runoff to a degree that has yet to be fully ascertained. “This is a million-acre watershed, with most of it draining into the river by the time you’re in Guerneville,” she says. “So you have all this land upstream that’s affecting the flood levels down there.

“Now the question that’s not really been answered is, ‘Given different scenarios of buildout in the urban core, what’s the difference in the flow for different sizes of floods?'”

She notes that while a single hillside vineyard project or residential development will not have an appreciable impact on flood potentials, the cumulative effects of such activities should not be underestimated. “There are a lot of questions that relate urban growth to flood levels,” she says. “But to my knowledge, they have not been looked at. There are no storm-water retention ordinances in Santa Rosa, but a lot of places with flood problems require developers to retain storm water on-site or work with the city [on retention], rather than dumping it into the nearest conduit and giving it to somebody else.”

Why hasn’t a comprehensive analysis of possible development-related flood impacts been conducted in Sonoma County? Because the jurisdictional and financial implications have yet to be fully explored.

For example, the Sonoma County Water Agency’s authority in the watershed is surprisingly minimal. “Our business is maintaining the inventory of flood-control channels and some natural creeks that we’ve been empowered to maintain,” Hicks says. “And I’d estimate that it’s between 5 and 10 percent of the county’s waterways.”

Hicks adds that the water agency has no jurisdiction over development patterns and infrastructures.

Meanwhile, county agencies and municipalities have yet to establish a cohesive flood-control relationship. “The county desperately needs an overall flood-management program,” Griffin says. “It has flood-control programs for specific cities, which just pass their floodwaters on as fast as they can get them out of there by draining them into the Russian River and on down to Guerneville.”

Hicks, however, cautions against extrapolating broad flood-management lessons from highly localized scenarios. “With flood control, there’s the small scale and the large scale. Things tend to apply differently, and more intuitively, on a small scale.”

Adds Thompson, referring to last January’s floods, “People looked at the record and said, ‘We didn’t have much rain in Santa Rosa but we got this horrendous flood.’ But a lot of that was due to the nature of the storm.” That storm, he says, was concentrated in the northern watershed, yielding a tremendous amount of water that was subsequently dispatched downstream.

“Each storm has its own personality,” Thompson says, “and it’s going to react differently depending on the intensity of the rainfall, where it rains, and the timing of it. It’s a very complex system.”

And in major flood events, the difference between pavement and wildlands is narrowed as supersaturation takes hold.

“In 1986, it rained for several days,” Hicks says. “It got to the point that there was a sheet of water even on undeveloped lands. The longer it rains, the closer it gets to mimicking developed runoff conditions.”

THE WATER AGENCY analysis in the wake of the 1986 flood determined that the water peak would have been six to nine feet higher without the watershed’s two major dams, Hicks add.

But Vilms says that “the flood-control aspects of Warm Springs Dam are greatly overrated” and that the best approach to flood mitigation is the preservation of natural river ecosystems. “Allowing streams to flush themselves and maintain their own floodplains is really the only solution,” she insists. “Any other solution is temporary, and ultimately nature will override it.”

If developmental forces are indeed exacerbating flood problems for downstream communities, then mitigating actions should be taken. But the only way to determine overall impacts is to do the math, a process that has yet to be undertaken on a broad scale.

“You have to look at changes in peak flow,” Marcus says. “For so much rainfall in the drainage basin, is the water higher in Guerneville vs. the same size storm previously? Then you need to look at the different tributaries and see how they might have changed in their flow characteristics. These are not simple questions, but they’re the kind that need to be grappled with in a way that focuses on data, not finger pointing.

“Let’s look at the problem in an objective fashion and try to really resolve whether this is a real perception or not.”

From the Nov. 6-12, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Forestville Asphalt Plant

0

No ‘Phalt

By Bruce Robinson

ASPHALTVILLE? Credit Vince Welnick with coining that one. Testifying against an asphalt plant proposed by Canyon Rock quarry owner Wendel Trappe, the former Grateful Dead keyboardist told the Sonoma County Planning Commission, “We live in Forestville. We don’t want to have to change the name to Asphaltville.”

While a name change is improbable, a sizable segment of this riverside hamlet in west county is worried that Trappe’s plans could dramatically change the character of the town.

“The community doesn’t want it,” says Roz Johnson, whose home and small vineyard overlook the quarry. Johnson has mobilized much of the resistance that has coalesced against the proposal, because, she says, “it’s going to affect Forestville. It’s not about the properties next door, it’s about the village.”

Conversations with an attorney have already been held, in case the application is approved.

Canyon Rock, which has mined gravel on the 57-acre site for decades, is seeking a permit to install a prefabricated, self-contained batch plant near the rear of the quarry yard. Rock from the quarry would be mixed with hot oil to make the asphalt for job sites in the west county.

A similar application was submitted four years ago, but Trappe withdrew it when strong community opposition emerged. This time, however, he says he will see it through.

While the main beef is the potential for odors and increased heavy-truck traffic throughout central Forestville, additional objections include the use of toxic or carcinogenic compounds in the manufacturing process, increased dust and noise, and possible declines in the surrounding property values.

Trappe says that representatives of the manufacturer have assured him that the operation would be odorless and pose no threat to local air quality or to Green Valley Creek, which runs alongside the quarry.

As for traffic, Trappe concedes “there will be more trucks, but hopefully not that much of a difference.”

Nearby residents aren’t buying that. Challenging the traffic studies that were not updated since the initial 1993 application, a group of neighbors conducted their own traffic survey one midsummer Monday, counting 250 trucks going in and out of the quarry. County planner Ken Ellison has said the average truck count should be “approximately 100” per day.

To reconcile those disparate figures, county officials ordered a new traffic survey, as well as additional technical information about the plant, before making a decision. The application is due back before the Planning Commission Oct. 2.

In the meantime, opponents are on the move. Forestville Citizens for Sensible Growth, the local environmentalist group that has battled other urban intrusions, has weighed in against the application. FCSG published a four-page newspaper last week attacking the asphalt plant. “The benefits–presumably more profits–would accrue to just one person,” noted one article. “But the costs . . . are borne by the people of Forestville.”

THAT IS AS CLOSE as anyone has come to personally attacking Trappe, an affable man who is well regarded personally by many of the people who are strongly opposed to his business plans. Canyon Rock has made a separate application for permission to mine an additional 30 acres of adjacent hillside, while a second quarry just a half mile away has recently changed ownership and is reportedly preparing to expand, too.

The two could eventually face each other across a road that has been designated a state Scenic Highway.

“This has galvanized the community in a way we haven’t seen in a decade or more,” says FCSG spokesman Roger Karraker.

“It’s gotten a lot of attention,” agrees west county Supervisor Mike Reilly, who lives nearby and may ultimately have to vote on the matter. He views it in the larger context of the county’s Aggregate Resources Management plan.

“I’m willing to support the expansion of quarries in order to get the gravel companies out of the river on the schedule we’ve set out,” Reilly says. “We haven’t had any new quarry mines started in Sonoma County since the ARM plan was adopted, so probably expansion of the current sites is the only way we’re going to be able to effect that transition.”

At the same time, “I don’t think there’s any direct linkage between the ARM plan and the siting of an asphalt plant at a quarry,” Reilly continues. “There’s a tenuous economic link that one could argue,” but it’s not enough to persuade him.

“The plant is going to have to stand on its own merits, pro or con.”

From the Nov. 6-12, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Greek Egg-Lemon Soup

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Greek Egg-Lemon Soup

Red Beans & Rice. Otis uses the Seme di Melone pasta–the “little boats” of his childhood–in lieu of rice, giving a succulent appeal to the broth.

One 4-5-lb. stewing chicken, deskinnedOne 49-oz. can of chicken broth (Otis uses the fat-free variety)1 small package of Seme di Melone pasta or 1 cup rice2 eggsJuice of 2 lemons; more to taste

Place the chicken in a heavy kettle and cover with water, bringing to a high simmer. Cover with a lid and cook until the meat is falling off the bone. Remove the chicken, strain the broth, and skim the fat. (When cool, chicken may be shredded and returned to the soup or served separately on the side.) To the strained broth, add the canned broth, bringing the heat up until the soup returns to a simmer. Reserve aside two cups of hot broth. Add the pasta, and cook until tender.

Meanwhile, in a mixing bowl, break the eggs and whip, gradually adding the two cups of hot broth and the lemon juice in alternating batches, until the egg mixture becomes frothy. Add egg mixture back into the simmering kettle of broth. Season to taste and serve immediately. Serves 6.

From the Nov. 6-12, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

The House Yes

Ricochet Theory


John Casado

Here’s Lookin’ at You: Sheri Lee Miller, left, is Jackie-O in ‘The House of Yes.’

‘The House of Yes’ scores a hit

By Daedalus Howell

IF WOODY ALLEN’S GAG, “I’m writing a non-fiction version of the Warren Report,” was a benign antecedent of the shift in national consciousness about conspiracy theories, then Actors’ Theatre’s production of playwright Wendy McLeod’s black comedy The House of Yes, under the admirable direction of Tim Hayes, represents its present evolution. The centerpiece of this play is an incestuous act predicated on a re-enactment of JFK’s assassination: gunplay meets foreplay on Mom’s couch.

In the midst of a raging hurricane, the dysfunctional Pascal family of McClean, Va. (a tony suburb of Washington, D.C., circa 1983), eagerly await the return of elder brother Marty (Dodds Delzell). More inclement than the storm, however, are the reactions of Marty’s mother (Laurie Whiteside) and his deranged twin sister, Jackie-O (Sheri Lee Miller), when, upon his arrival, he presents Lesly (Sallie Romer)–his unexpected and lissome fiancée. Of course, Anthony (Cameron McVeigh), the callow kid brother and recent Princeton dropout, is smitten with the outsider.

Complicating matters are the unsettling proximity of the remaining Kennedy clan (next-door neighbors) and, more significantly, Jackie-O’s blatant sexual longing for her twin brother (she is said to have clutched Marty’s penis in utero).

Miller is nothing short of stellar as the hostile, enigmatic twin. A wellspring of contradictions, Miller’s Jackie-O is both tempestuous and tragic, fratricidal yet incestuous, empowered but victimized.

The straight man to many of the antics of Miller and company, Delzell’s Marty is a deftly crafted totem of aspiring propriety who visibly transforms as Jackie-O systematically skins him of his façade, revealing a morass of like impulses. A keen actor, Delzell makes his understated approach a fine counterpoint to Miller’s capriciousness.

McVeigh’s doting and devoted Anthony drolly conveys the mental scarring acquired as his older sibling’s psychological chew toy. McVeigh is a subtle physical comedian whose suggestive gesturing and deadpan manner not only achieve laughs but reveal the psychic innards of a character that becomes increasingly complicated.

Sallie Romer’s Lesly capably carries the torch of reason and serves as an effective foil, making for a comforting touchstone when the audience begins to grope for the reality they left at the theater door. Also finely hewn is Whiteside’s portrayal of Mrs. Pascal’s resignation and denial, becoming all the more lurid in contrast to her sardonic performance.

Designer Vonnie Johnson’s costume selections are apropos for the era, but it is the replica of Kennedy couture worn by Miller’s Jackie-O that is Johnson’s genius. Miller is clad in a faithful reproduction of the raspberry wool Chanel outfit and pillbox hat Mrs. Kennedy wore in the Dallas motorcade. As mandated by MacLeod’s script, the outfit is garishly slopped with faux blood and strewn with macaroni in emulation of the medulla oblongata once in the President’s skull. Sick, yes–but funny.

Autumn Wilkins’ set is a lean replica of ’80s affluence, and John W. Arnold’s stylish lighting accents and punctuates scenes with concision and clarity, as does Hamid Lock’s sound design (the hurricane’s siege seldom ebbs, and yet nothing of the actors’ intonation is diminished).

Actors’ Theatre’s The House of Yes is delectably perverse and an impeccable antidote to the maudlin drivel undoubtedly slouching toward the holiday market this season.

The House of Yes plays Thursday-Sunday through Nov. 22 at 8 p.m., except Nov. 9 and 16, when the curtain lifts at 2 p.m. Actors’ Theatre, at the Luther Burbank Center, 50 Mark West Springs Road, Santa Rosa. Tickets are $6-$12. 523-4185.

From the Nov. 6-12, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Roger Montgomery

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On a Roll

Homeless, not Helpless: Roger Montgomery at rest on his Hudson Cart.

Local man strives to make dream come true

By David Templeton

THE MORNING is wet and cool, the air’s sharp chill suggesting the imminent approach of winter. In Doyle Park, in downtown Santa Rosa, a few scattered clusters of people–most of them homeless, scant belongings bundled beside them–sit at tables and benches, or sprawl stretched out on the grass, shadowed by the vast, dew-drenched cover of the trees.

From across the park, Roger Montgomery–a man with a plan–rides up to meet a guest, accompanied by his dog, Barndor, solidly perched on a flat, carpeted platform that is rigged to the front of the bicycle. According to the lean, soft-spoken Montgomery–who is fond of saying, “I’m not homeless; the world is my domain”–this whimsical dog-rig is merely one of many ideas he’s thought up since 1992, when an unspecified disability forced him out onto the streets.

“I used to keep a tally of my ideas,” he laughs, getting off to walk his bike. “I lost count after 5,000. A lot of them I’ve forgotten. I only try to hang onto the really good ones. Like the Hudson Cart.”

And there it is, parked beneath a tree up ahead: the Hudson Cart, a modest but eye-catching contraption that resembles a classic toy wagon crossed with a hot-dog cart. Designed by Montgomery over four years ago and constructed from materials he begged or scrounged from dumpsters, the cart–named in honor of late Santa Rosa philanthropist Ted Hudson and his wife, Shirley–is small enough to be towed behind any bicycle. During the day, Montgomery uses the cart to pick up litter in the park and along city streets; at night, the 2-by-4-foot bed extends to a roomy 7 feet long–sleeping bag size–and becomes a kind of mini-mobile home.

“When it rains, I can rig a nylon tent over the whole thing,” he says proudly. “I keep pretty dry. I sleep above the ground and away from the elements.”

Montgomery is not interested merely in having his own place to sleep, however. His plan is to make the Hudson Cart available to street dwellers throughout the county–and across America.

“This unit is the prototype,” he nods. “When we start manufacturing, I’ll make a few changes in the design. They will be made out 100 percent recycled materials. You can sleep in it–your own mobile home–use it for laundering, hauling, making deliveries, gathering firewood, picking up trash, probably a lot of things I haven’t even thought of yet. It will enable each person out here to fend for themselves. That’s the big plan.”

And a big plan it is. According to the meticulous, poetic “mission statement” Montgomery has written to describe his scheme, the goal is nothing less than “to get off the street and bring 250,000 homeless people with me.”

With the help of a dozen or so local businesspeople and educators, Montgomery has established Barndor Recycling (named after his acrobatic canine companion) with hopes of finding a dedicated work space where he and others can construct and distribute the carts–along with used 10-speed bicycles–to those in need. His plan calls for selling the carts at cost for $140 each or providing them free in exchange for 20 hours of service picking up trash.

“I don’t want to use the carts to make money for myself,” he is quick to say, while giving Barndor a good, long scratch on the head. “That’s what I invented the Recycling Trolley for.” Another of his inventions, the trolley sits beside the cart. It’s a clever, lightweight device on wheels that carries three plastic curbside recycling bins, allowing you to convey all bins to the curb in one trip. He’ll sell the trolleys, also made of recycled materials, for $25 each, five bucks of which will go directly toward providing a free Hudson Cart to someone in need.

Montgomery concedes that the entire plan is an elaborate one, and further insists that the carts are only Phase One. Another phase includes mobilizing Hudson Cart owners as a countywide litter removal force, using the wagons to transport trash. He envisions set-aside areas–like campgrounds–for cart owners to park. Once the work space is established, he’d like to provide studio/stalls for other homeless inventor-artist-tinkerers to work in.

When the system is in place in Sonoma County, he says, he’ll turn it over to others and start over in another county, spreading across the country until “Hudson Carts are as normal as bikes and cars.”

AS FAR-REACHING and seemingly outlandish as Montgomery’s scheme appears, he’s won the respect and support of several influential local business folk, including Mike Petrucelli, owner of Vacuums Plus in Santa Rosa.

“There is an idea out there that homeless people aren’t willing to take an active part in helping themselves or their community,” Petrucelli observes. “Roger is the exception to that belief. He’s so full of optimism and excitement, you can’t help but want him to succeed. He’s resourceful, too. He knows that to make this work he needs a phone, so he found someone to agree to take messages for him. That’s pretty smart.”

Petrucelli has agreed to act as fundraiser for Montgomery, and has himself raised several hundred dollars already. Another supporter is local writer Karen Eberhardt, who has compiled a book entitled An Attitude of Grace: Empathy in Action, detailing creative ways in which people show kindness to others. So taken was she by Montgomery that she included him in the book, and has been actively promoting his plan around the county.

“Roger sums up what I mean by ‘an attitude of grace,'” she says. “And he’s one of the most creative people I’ve ever met.”

She’s not alone in that view.

“I think it’s a great idea,” says Nick Baxter, director of the Burbank Development Project, a non-profit low-income housing organization seeking to provide permanent shelter for the homeless. “I received a very professional proposal from Roger, describing the plan. It’s positive. It’s industrious. If we didn’t have dreamers, nothing would ever happen. The Golden Gate Bridge would never have been built.

“We need people like Roger to dream these kind of dreams. Who knows, maybe with the proper community support, it could come to pass.”

Tula Jaffe of the Sonoma County Task Force of the Homeless agrees: “Anything reasonable that people do to help themselves is a good idea. The carts are certainly not a complete solution. There’s still the fact that homeless people need a living-wage job and affordable housing. But in the interim, it’s a practical way to give them a place to be.”

“It’s a start,” Montgomery shrugs, sliding the cart’s sleeping extension back inside and preparing to roll out for the day. “People die out here, you know. I’ve lost a lot of friends in the last year. Someone’s got to do something. Everything good started out with an idea. This one is mine. All I need now is people willing to help out, to find out if it can really work.

“I’m pretty sure it can.”

For further information on the Hudson Cart, the Recycling Trolley, or Barndor Recycling, leave a message for Roger Montgomery at 542-5208 or call Mike Petrucelli at 527-9831.

From the Nov. 6-12, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Talking Pictures

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