Michael Flatley

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Erin Go Blech!


Lord of the Flies: Michael Flatley flies in the face of ethnic diversity and the higher arts as ‘Lord of the Dance.’



Flatley and the fate of public television

By Michael C. Nelson

MICHAEL FLATLEY’S “Lord of the Dance” is one of two wildly popular dance reviews based on traditional Irish step dancing; “Riverdance” is the other. Both enjoy sold-out tours, but have found even larger audiences in video-taped incarnations. Millions of the tapes have been sold, and airings of “Riverdance” and “Lord of the Dance” have been raking in dollars for affiliates during public television pledge drives. Flatley, one of the stars of the original “Riverdance,” split with that company to form his own troupe; publicity materials cite the usual “artistic differences” as the reason (in fact, Flatley was fired).

“Riverdance,” the earlier of the two productions, celebrates folk dance and music in a multicultural setting; advertisements audaciously announce that the show is “nothing less than the story of humankind.” Presenting Ireland not only as the birthplace of immigrants to the New World, but also as a nation founded by immigrants, “Riverdance”–which airs Friday, June 6, at 9:30 p.m. on KRCB channel 22–includes Spanish, Russian, and African-American dance and song traditions. Step, tap, ballet and flamenco dancing are interspersed with solo and choral vocals, as well as (maybe a little too much) flute playing.

Despite a certain musical blandness and the safe, unobjectionable nature of its “up with people” politics, “Riverdance” offers folk art that is still recognizable as such.

“Lord of the Dance” is another story. Here the folk dancing and music are buried under the trappings of a music video. In stage decoration best described as Celtic metal, runic banners hang from the ceiling, while the back of the stage is lined with dungeon bars reminiscent of a Mötley Crüe video. Slow-motion sequences capture particularly athletic leaps and flourishes; a camera has been positioned beneath a Plexiglas square of flooring, enabling shots of dancers from below. The lighting is insistently atmospheric: at times banks of lights flood the stage; at others, smoke-shrouded lasers are the only illumination.

Like a music video, “Lord” is heavily edited; frequent cuts destroy any sense of continuity in the show.

While “Riverdance” is an ensemble show with stand-out performers, “Lord” is clearly Michael Flatley’s vehicle. The boyish Flatley of “Riverdance” has become a rock star in “Lord of the Dance.” His locks clipped short, his oiled chest often visible, the smile replaced by a sneer apparently designed to denote “intensity,” Flatley’s Lord looks less like a world champion tapper (or a figure from Irish mythology, for that matter) and more like a distillation of MTV machismo.

While the rest of the troupe stays for the most part within the bounds of traditional dance, Flatley’s dancing in “Lord” is too often limited to brief bursts of self-conscious vituoso excess–a stage version of Michael Jackson’s heavily edited capering.

How appropriate that when Flatley and company took the stage at the 1997 Academy Awards, it was just before Nicole Kidman presented the Oscar for best editing; “Lord” derives much of its power from movie magic.

While “Riverdance”–featuring a diverse cast but no sharp ideological message–fits firmly into PBS’s safe cultural offerings of the last few years, “Lord of the Dance” gives us a glimpse of what’s to come as the defunding of public broadcasting continues, forcing the network to rely more heavily on corporate dollars and viewer contributions: productions that, devoid of any political content, rely more on bombast, stagecraft, and gimmicks than on artistry.

A target of conservatives since the Reagan era, the Corporation for Public Broadcasting lost 12 percent of its federally funded budget in 1996, 18 percent this year. “Lord” seems designed to stop the budget-cutting trend. Gone are the non-white faces of “Riverdance.” Gone is any attempt to link folk dance and music to history, to the movement of populations, or to the oppression of peoples. And gone is any effort to resist surrendering television to Americans’ supposed short attention spans.

Designed to please audiences across a wide demographic swath, the show garners grudging approval from longtime patrons of the arts, since the force of the step-dancing idiom and the skill of the dancers manage to emerge, despite the slick packaging.

“Lord of the Dance” is bound to impress curmudgeons of the right in Congress, who have the power to determine PBS’s future: it is multiculturalism with a friendly (that is to say white, English-speaking) face.

Integral to the hype surrounding the show, “The Making of ‘Lord of the Dance'”–a chronicle of how Flatley’s dance epic came to be–accompanies the program on many PBS stations. “Making” seems calculated to persuade any non-believers that “Lord of the Dance” belongs on the new mainstream (that is, rightward-moving) PBS. Flatley is careful to display his ethnic pedigree–his parents are Irish–and thus prove his artistic authenticity. But xenophobes needn’t worry. Flatley was born in Chicago; he’s One of Us.

Anticipating and pre-empting any ascription of effeminacy to his art, Flately credits his work ethic and his dancing speed to his boxing prowess–the sport his father insisted that Flatley learn when he discovered his son was regularly beaten up after school. (Flatley goes so far as to incorporate shadowboxing into “Lord,” looking at times uncomfortably like a mid-’70s kung-fu Elvis.)

Following Flatley’s lead, local pledge drivers have echoed the profile presented in “The Making of ‘Lord of the Dance,'” giving the art-as-sport justification particular emphasis. “You know,” bleary-eyed emcees blather, “this step dancing is really hard; you have to be very athletic. Did you know Michael Flatley holds the world record for fastest tap dancing? Twenty-eight taps in a second!” No American is too shallow or insensitive to appreciate an appeal to the national obsession with “mostness.”

Certainly this approach would work with shows featuring the other arts–say, “The Three Sopranos.” If you can’t get viewers to tune in on the merits of opera, try the sports angle. “You know, those opera divas have to be very athletic. Over the course of a single aria they can move as much air as a freestyler heading into the last 25 meters!”

Given the success of “Lord of the Dance,” it’s easy to foresee even greater denigrations of the arts through ever-more flagrant exploitations. Flatley claims to have “a genius IQ”; this characteristic has yet to be properly marketed. Certainly “The Step Dancers of Mensa,” or “Smartydance,” would find an eager audience on PBS. Even if this idea doesn’t catch on, it will undoubtedly be a long time before the jig is up for the likes of Michael Flatley.

From the June 5-11, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent

This page was designed and created by the Boulevards team.
© 1997 Metrosa, Inc.

Talking Pictures

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Shootin’ Script


David James

Raiders of the Park: Jeff Goldblum and other actors bravely struggle to save their careers in ‘The Lost World.’

Moral conflict at heart of ‘The Lost World’

By David Templeton

Writer David Templeton takes interesting people to interesting movies. This time around, he takes hunter Hal Lauritzen to see Steven Spielberg’s The Lost World: Jurassic Park.

HAL LAURITZEN cocks his head to one side and squints intently at me from across the table, an innocuous enough gesture. But with Lauritzen–a calm, still man–this sudden burst of bemused surprise is as conspicuous as a dinosaur in a backyard swimming pool.

And what provoked this response? Only my remark that Steven Spielberg–in a series of interviews to promote his mayhem-filled movie we’ve just seen, The Lost World: Jurassic Park–has said that his new film is “all about family.”

“Family?” Lauritzen repeats. “Hmmmmn. Maybe he means that he hopes whole families will go see it.” Possibly. Spielberg will certainly sell more tickets that way (and has, earning almost $150 million so far).

“If there’s any message here,” Lauritzen says, raising his voice slightly, “it’s to do with the bad guys with the guns vs. the good guys with the cameras. I think it’s no mistake that when the dinosaurs go after that one group of guys in the tall grass, the only ones to come out alive are the non-hunters. I don’t know, maybe hunters taste better.”

The story–involving a team of photojournalists and scientists duking it out with a band of rowdy zookeepers and hunters on an island full of genetically engineered dinosaurs–sets up a strict dichotomy between the opposed moralities of its two groups.

It is a dichotomy that Lauritzen–an avid lifelong hunter and renowned nature photographer (he has been published in Outside, Sierra, and Motorland magazines as well as illustrating Chronicle Books’ Marin) has thought about often. He is currently working on a new book, in which he’ll explore, in words and pictures, his deeply personal passion for duck hunting.

“I’m only a bird hunter,” he explains. “Not that there’s actually any difference between shooting a bird and shooting an animal. But I draw my personal line there: I don’t like the idea of shooting an animal.”
“How can you justify shooting a bird?” I ask.
“I can’t,” he says simply. “Any attempt to justify it just sounds like a cop-out. I don’t know, maybe it is.” Perhaps the stark black-and-whiteness of the movie’s viewpoint has stirred up conflict for Lauritzen, a man who routinely eats all he kills, supports the California Waterfowl Association but not the NRA, decries trophy hunting, and deplores what he calls “the shooters,” people whose yen for guns outweighs the respectful experience with nature that he himself craves.

Back to the Jurassic era. In one scene, an army of off-roading yahoos chase a stampede of various sauruses and generally behave badly. “Assuming dinosaurs were re-created,” I ask, “would people actually line up for a chance to take one as a trophy?”

“Absolutely,” Lauritzen nods. “There are still legal hunting safaris in Africa, in spite of efforts to stop them. And even here in the United States, in some of the wider, open parts of Texas, Arizona, New Mexico, they import exotic animals–wildebeests and others. Of course, these kind of hunts fly in the face of everything that I believe in.”

As both a photographer and a hunter, for which side did Lauritzen feel the most affinity in The Lost World?

“Nobody seemed especially intelligent, did they?” he remarks after a pause. “You know, I love my job as a photographer–but I have to say that I think I have more of a deep-seated passion for the hunting. Working with a good dog and having a successful hunt is one of the greatest, deepest joys I’ve ever known.”

Even so, were an invitation to a hunting safari at Jurassic Park to arrive, “I’d pass. But give me an opportunity to photograph a living dinosaur.” His expression erupts once more into a full-on beaming smile. “I’d be there in a second,” he laughs.

From the June 5-11, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent

This page was designed and created by the Boulevards team.
© 1997 Metrosa, Inc.

The Scoop

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Three-Way Run

Politics, profits, and parasites

By Bob Harris

WHO’S GONNA BE president in 2000? Time and Newsweek are already asking that question almost every week. In most civilized countries, an election takes a couple of months, tops. Canada’s campaign started about the same time baseball season did, and it’ll be over before Albert Belle’s first suspension.

But since our whole political system is now just an elaborate auction to the highest bidder, candidates have to stockpile cash years in advance like Art Bell fans hitting the dry goods. Which means the Inaugural bar tab hasn’t even been settled before we gotta start the whole dance party all over again.

And since wealth and power are centralizing, next time looks depressingly like last time.

On the Democratic side, Al Gore’s already got enough cash that he’s pretty much untouchable. Even so, Dick Gephardt is picking his fights, Jesse Jackson’s considering a run, John Kerry is in and out, and Paul Wellstone has been building a national organization from the day he arrived in DC. Too bad nobody knows who he is.

As to Republicans, Liddy Dole can count on Newt Gingrich’s help now that Bob holds the mortgage on his soul. Colin Powell’s doing magazine covers again for some reason. John Kasich, from Ohio, just did a fundraiser in Iowa. Jack Kemp will wobble onward once he’s done flip-flopping on immigration. Lamar Alexander persists, even though I just sat behind him on a plane and no one even recognized him. Bob Dornan still commands the red-faced lunatic demographic. And Dan Quayle started campaigning for 2000 before the ’96 election was even over (honest), but then math always was a tricky one for the boy.

Meanwhile, Perot’s still rich. So is Steve Forbes, who really doesn’t want the office as much as a “flat tax” billion-dollar inheritance tax handout.

And then there are the New Party, the Greens, the Libertarians, the Professor, and Mary Ann. None of whom have enough money to play.

Same as it ever was.

The only way out is campaign finance reform. If nothing else, it’ll shorten the whole process. Even if the candidates don’t improve, at least we won’t have to get depressed about them for three more years.

Y’KNOW HOW when you play Monopoly, you try to gather up all the properties in a color group, because then no one can pass without paying you money?

Rupert Murdoch, the richest man in Southern California, wants to buy the L.A. Dodgers. (Actually, he wants to buy everything, including your dog. The Dodgers are just next on his shopping list.)

As it stands now, Angelenos can hardly watch a game he doesn’t own. Murdoch already owns the broadcast rights to the Lakers and the Clippers, the Kings and the Ducks, and both USC and UCLA.

And Murdoch already owns the Fox TV network, Fox Sports West channels 1 and 2, the Fox News, the FX, and the FX movie channels, and the local Channel 11. He also owns TV Guide, Harper Collins Books, the Twentieth Century Fox movie studio, and more than 100 newspapers and magazines.

So one day soon, L.A. residents will watch a Murdoch sports team on a Murdoch sports channel, then watch the highlights on a Murdoch news channel and read about it in a Murdoch newspaper. They’ll then read a Murdoch paperback about the star player and watch a Murdoch movie dramatizing his big game. Later, that’ll be on a Murdoch movie channel with promotional interviews in a Murdoch magazine, and the listings for it all will be in Murdoch’s TV Guide.

If there’s anything wrong with that situation, you can be sure Rupert Murdoch will tell you about it.

Guard your dog.

IF YOU LIKED Ebola, you’ll love this. In a recent study sponsored by the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, scientists discovered that passenger airplanes are spreading infectious viruses worldwide. Not in the air, and not in the food or water. In the restroom waste.

That’s right: airline food’s bad enough. The results are even worse. Just made your day, didn’t it?

The scientists discovered this by collecting sewage samples from various international flights landing in the United States. And you thought you had a lousy job.

Almost half the samples contained active viruses that weren’t killed by the airlines’ disinfectant. And scientists think bacteria and parasites are spreading this way as well. Here’s the fun part. Y’know where waste pumped from aircraft entering the United States goes? Straight into the sewers just like local waste to be treated at municipal plants, which might not kill our new little visitors.

What can we do? Airlines can add a water-soluble oil called glutaraldehyde to the mix. It kills these bugs dead. And it’s way cheap, so it won’t boost ticket prices, although I’d personally pay an extra dollar. Hell, 10.

Call your airline and see if they use the goo. Some do, some don’t.

The other solution is a little more complex: Get everyone on Earth to, um, go before they get on the plane, with big posters in every airport explaining the problem.

In which case, I’d like to humbly suggest a slogan:

Think globally. Tink locally.

From the June 5-11, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent

This page was designed and created by the Boulevards team.
© 1997 Metrosa, Inc.

Socially Conscious Graduates

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Rad Grads


Photo courtesy of The Community Voice

Pomp and Circumstance: New programs may help socially responsible grads attain their goals.

Loans keep dreams of public service alive

By Robert Preer

THE MAY 25 commencement at Manchester College, a small liberal arts school near Fort Wayne, Ind., was much the same as commencement at colleges everywhere: awards, speeches, caps and gowns, and cheers from happy seniors and parents.

One thing was different, though. About half the graduates wore green ribbons pinned to their gowns. A note in the commencement program explained that these students had signed the following statement: “I pledge to investigate and take into account the social and environmental consequences of any job opportunity I consider.”

Troy E. Lucas, 21, was one of the hundred or so grads taking the college’s environmental and social pledge, now in its ninth year. “I think I can make a difference,” says Lucas, who plans to work in a mental health center.

In California, activists at Humboldt State in Arcata came up with the idea for a graduation pledge in 1987 as a way to promote social awareness and responsibility. A year later, Manchester students adopted the pledge, which is now a campus tradition.

“It seems like it has always been a part of the graduation ceremony,” says Kristi A. Zimmerman, 22, a leader of the Manchester pledge movement this year. She will begin grad studies next year in higher education counseling.

Humboldt State and Manchester College both have long traditions of social and environmental activism. Humboldt State grads taking the pledge wear multicolored ribbons pinned to their gowns. After they receive their diplomas, seniors walk to a nearby table and sign the pledge.

The idea has yet to catch on at Sonoma State University.

At Manchester College, students receive a wallet-sized card with the pledge on it. Students say the pledge helps them remember their ideals at a time when the pressures of getting ahead and making money are greatest.

Neil Wollman, a psychology professor at Manchester and the faculty coordinator of the national pledge program, says it is more than a consciousness-raising device. “Our hope is that if enough people do it, it’s not just symbolic. It can actually have an effect,” he says.

As it is worded, the pledge is non-ideological, and it could lead students with different beliefs to very different actions. “It is probably going to draw more people on the left than the right, but people can define it as they want,” Wollman says.

While many college grads attend the nation’s top law schools, medical schools, business schools, and other institutions to qualify for entry to high-paying careers, others undertake graduate studies to work in the public service sector. These graduates may face tens of thousands of dollars in loans, but want to accept relatively low-paying jobs of social commitment.

To help them, dozens of programs now offer what is known as “public service loan assistance.” Under such programs, grads who go to work for non-profit organizations or perform other public service receive help paying off their education loans. Some institutions simply “forgive” a portion of the debt, while others offer cash grants.

Stanford Business School, Harvard Law School, Yale School of Management, and Georgetown Law School all offer some form of public service loan aid. The help allows graduates who owe big school loans to accept low-paying jobs at legal aid agencies and with relief organizations, environmental groups, and domestic violence prevention programs.

Michael Alevy, 39, is a 1996 graduate of Vermont Law School who works as a public defender in New Haven, Conn. He says that in January the first of two $2,000 grants he will receive this year “arrived like manna from God.”

He has about $80,000 in school loans and makes about $30,000 a year in a temporary job with no benefits. His monthly loan obligations are about the same as a house payment. “It has meant the world to me,” Alevy says. “It has allowed me to do what I think is very important work.”

Pressure from students led to the establishment of public service loan aid, according to Francine Hahn, organizer for the National Association for Public Interest Law. “Most of them were started by student initiatives. Even if one has been established, students want to see how they can improve it,” Hahn says.

A year ago, law students at the University of Denver began raising money for grants to grads who go into public service with charity auctions and collecting donations. The students have raised $30,000 so far, with a goal of $100,000, which would be an endowment for a grant program.

The movement to promote public service has spread to business schools, which a decade ago were known simply as places where students went to learn how to make money. Several business schools now offer public service loan aid. Last year, nearly all Stanford business students pledged 2 percent of their summer earnings to support fellow students doing volunteer work for non-profit organizations.

“A lot of MBA students are contradicting the image of MBAs in the ’80s and do have broader concerns than just making a lot of money,” says Nancy Katz, executive director of San Francisco­based Students for Responsible Business, a 3-year-old organization that now has 1,100 business student and alumni members.

Are today’s college graduates more committed to social and environmental causes than previous graduates? Robert L. Sigmon, senior associate for the Council of Independent Colleges, believes activism on campuses comes in cycles. He points to the founding of the Peace Corps and Volunteers in Service to America in the 1960s, public service programs during the Great Depression of the 1930s, and missionary movements in the early 1900s.

“Every 30 years or so, it sort of pops up, this call to public service,” says Sigmon, an adviser on student community service to the council, an organization of 425 private liberal arts schools. “What’s new now is this relationship to higher education.”

According to Sigmon, colleges and universities now are actively supporting public service for students and graduates, and not simply out of altruism. Institutions also view public service as an important learning experience, he said.

Jonathan Hutson, 32, of Keene, N.H., has long wanted a career helping abused and neglected children. The New York University Law School graduate has $90,000 in education loans, which he has to start paying soon.

If all goes well, Hutson expects to get a job that would pay him $28,000 a year. With $9,000 in annual public service aid from New York University, Hutson thinks he can get by financially. Meanwhile, many of his classmates are making $85,000 a year or more on Wall Street. “The money doesn’t impress me. It’s not what I’m interested in,” says Hutson. “I work only for causes I believe in and with people I trust.

“How many corporate attorneys can say that?”

From the June 5-11, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent

This page was designed and created by the Boulevards team.
© 1997 Metrosa, Inc.

Citizen Review Boards

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Up for Review


Happier Times: Ayling Wu, first-born daughter Karolyn (now 5), and Kuan Kao.

Law enforcement balks, but social justice advocates say recent spate of police shootings shows need for civilian police review boards

By Citizen Review Boards.

Police Resistance

IN RECENT WEEKS, Kao’s death has fueled a move to create civilian police review boards to scrutinize the actions of local law enforcement agencies.

“It seems like there are more instances [of police brutality],” says Jeff Ott of the Santa Rosa­based Copwatch. “Now is the right time [for independent review of police actions].”

Local members of the American Civil Liberties Union already are laying the groundwork for civilian police review boards. “In my opinion, 90 percent of police officers are doing an excellent job–they’re laying their life on the line for you,” says Rene Lopez of the Rohnert Park­based National Latino Police Officers Association. “But there are a few that we need to control, because those people have got the authority to draw a weapon and kill you.

“We need somebody to oversee them because the police departments are not going to go out and conduct an investigation to find themselves guilty. We need someone else to look into matters.”

Lopez, an ex-state Department of Motor Vehicles investigator and Novato resident, heads the civilian police review board in his hometown, the only such organization in the North Bay. He also is chairman of a local ACLU subcommittee studying the issue.

“If you run a solid police department and do everything by the numbers, why would you object to a police review board?” he asks. “You should be glad to have a police review board take a look at what your department is doing. But if you’re always trying to hide things and something goes awry, then you don’t want people to look at it.”

But the concept is running into stiff resistance locally. Acting Sheriff Jim Piccinini points out that there already are several ways to review police conduct, including internal departmental review and investigations by the District Attorney’s Office, the Sonoma County grand jury, and the state Attorney General’s Office.

“You have to decide if there are sufficient review procedures in place,” Piccinini adds, “or if one more would slow the process.”

Bucking the Trend

THROUGHOUT the United States, there has been a sharp rise in the number of citizen review boards in the last five to 10 years, according to John Crew, director of the Police Practices Project for the ACLU of Northern California. “Of the 50 largest U.S. cities, more than three quarters now have some form of civilian review board. University of Nebraska Professor Sam Walker has documented an enormous growth in suburban- and medium-sized communities creating civilian review boards,” Crew says.

“That growth is occurring at the same time there’s a nationwide trend toward community policing,” he adds. “The police want to work in partnership with the community, but it makes no sense to extend their hand in partnership and then withdraw their hand to take part in an internal affairs system where they police themselves in secret.”

The increasing concern about financial claims filed against police departments and a desire to make sure that cities are not wasting tax dollars on expensive public safety programs is another reason for the growth of civilian review boards.

Additionally, civilian review of law enforcement agencies is better understood now than it was in the ’70s, Crew explains, when it was seen as an anti-cop thing. “Now it’s more about good government than bad cops. Police have unique powers, can directly deprive someone of their freedom, can arrest them, can use excessive force, can even use deadly force. We need some independent method of checks and balances. Even San Diego County–a very conservative area–has recognized this.”

Indeed, the concept has matured and been professional in recent years, he adds, so that it’s become difficult for law enforcement agencies to claim that civilian review is a boogeyman that’s going to destroy law enforcement.

“Sonoma County is a holdout and bucking the trend,” Crew concludes. “Sure, the FBI will investigate the death of Kao. But the FBI operates totally differently than a civilian review board. The FBI will have to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the officer is guilty of a crime. That’s really hard to do. The FBI won’t look at issues such as: How did the officer get himself into that position? What mistakes may have been made? Did the officer comply with policy? Should the policy be changed?”

Closed Society

“AS A YOUNG POLICE OFFICER, I had a problem with any kind of interference in the police department,” says John Parker, an ex-Oakland police officer who now heads the San Diego County Citizen’s Law Enforcement Review Board. “My opinion changed as I became more sensitive to what the community needs–more accountability. I saw damage being done by the code of silence employed by many police officers, and I couldn’t abide by it.

“It made me an outcast, just as much as someone who had complained about the police from the outside.”

In San Diego County, the civilian police review board won overwhelming public support as a ballot measure in 1991; the city of San Diego had a review process for several years. Yet, local sheriff’s deputies are still fighting against being brought before the board and having to testify, Parker says.

“Law enforcement is a closed society, they want to police themselves,” he observes. “They want to believe that no one understands policing other than trained law enforcement professionals, but any intelligent adult can read and comprehend written police procedures and rules and regulations, and know or learn what officers are supposed to do in given situations.”

The bottom line, he adds, is that police officers are public employees who work for the citizens, and those citizens have a right to ensure that the police are accountable.

Secrecy and deception are built into the policing system, Rene Lopez says. “If you are a line officer and something goes wrong, you’re not going to snitch yourself out to your superiors,” he points out. “Is the sergeant going to snitch himself out? Is the lieutenant going to say, I knew the sergeant and the line officer were screwing up under my supervision? Hell, no! So the top guy often doesn’t know what’s going on in the ranks because nobody tells him anything. People just aren’t going to come forward to say, I screwed up–fire me. The system is that we hide everything we do wrong, from the line officers right up to the top.

“If you’re the chief of a law enforcement agency and are confident that everybody is doing everything by the numbers, you should welcome an independent review.”

Some form of independent review is needed in a situation like the Kao case to prevent bias among investigators and shore up public confidence in police agencies, says ex-cop Parker. “Police officers will try to support one another and cover for each other. That was my experience as a police officer–some officers will manipulate [the circumstances] and cover [for their peers].”

From the May 29-June 4, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent

This page was designed and created by the Boulevards team.
© 1997 Metrosa, Inc.

Adam Theis

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Lion’s Roar


Michael Amsler

Renaissance Man: Adam Theis wraps his lips around many musical styles.

Trombonist Adam Theis leads pack of local young jazz lions

By Boulevards team.
© 1997 Metrosa, Inc.

Talking Pictures

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Reel Men

Breakdown

By David Templeton

Writer David Templeton takes interesting people to interesting movies in his ongoing quest for the ultimate post-film conversation. This time around, he buddies up with the two-headed testosterone von Hoffman brother hurricane to see the manly action thriller Breakdown.

Todd von Hoffman cues up and takes his shot. He misses. “Bruce Willis is OK,” he semi-enthuses, standing up and reaching for his beer as I lean against the bar, reading aloud from the local movie listings. I’ve just suggested seeing The Fifth Element, the latest Willis flick, but I continue looking.

Finally, I come to Breakdown, a Kurt Russell thriller. Lots of guns, trucks, and fistfights.

“That’s the one!” exclaims brother Brant, stepping up to take his own shot. “Anything with Kurt Russell in it.”

“Kurt Russell,” grunts Todd, “just reeks of ‘Regular Guy.'” Moments later, we pile into my vehicle for the cross-town trek to the theater. “My kind of car!” Todd shouts. “It’s a total mess!”

My boisterous guests this afternoon are the Los Angeles-based authors of The von Hoffman Bros.’ Big Damn Book of Sheer Manliness (General Publishing Group; $29.95). A hilarious, lovingly designed book, this weighty tome is a lusty salute to the kinds of things that many ‘regular guys’ appreciate. With the support of over a thousand photographs, the von Hoffmans offer their praises of beer, dogs, meat, baseball, and cigars. There is a list of the world’s best ‘guy movies’–Spartacus being No. 1–plus a bodacious list of synonyms for the word breast and another–twice as long–offering alternatives for a man’s ‘Johnson.’ Best of all is “The Bombastic Manifesto: What Guys Know,” an opening essay in defense of masculinity so ballsy and bold that it would make men’s movement poet Robert Bly blush.

Which brings us to Breakdown, a film in which a yuppified Russell must contend with savage rednecks intent on mayhem after his car breaks down on a lonely stretch of road somewhere in the American West. An evil trucker is involved; Kurt rises to the challenge.

“I haven’t seen anything so relentless since Aliens,” Brant proclaims after the show. “If this is your cup of tea, this movie delivers.” We’ve located a bar down the street from the theater, and–Budweisers in hand–have settled in to discuss the film. That we appear to have chosen a gay bar does not faze the von Hoffmans for one moment. After all, beer is beer.

“This movie pushes some very disturbing buttons,” Todd offers. “You know, there has never been a time when the average guy has felt so great a need to protect and cover and huddle over our children, our families, our possessions, even our lives. This picks up on that and exploits it to an amazing extreme.

Describing an opening scene from the movie, Todd continues, “When the cowboy comes up to Kurt and starts giving him shit, a knot the size of a fist was twisting right in the center of my chest. Both of you felt it too, I’m sure. Because we, as men, know what that feels like, that prelude to putting up our dukes. The juices start running, the heart beats, the hands shakes because you’ve got that fight-or-flight thing happening.”

“And Kurt felt like a wuss,” Brant adds, referring to Russell’s decidedly passive reaction to this confrontation. “He let him get away with it, and we’ve all been there, haven’t we?”

Brant tells of the time he was accosted by the former boyfriend of a woman he was dating. “He dragged her out of the car by her hair,” he recalls, cringing. “I was scared out of my mind. I couldn’t do anything. I felt so emasculated.”

“I have the opposite problem,” says Todd. “cuz I’ve been in a lot of fights.” Relating the tale of a neighbor who’d been revving his motorcycle for hours, he says, “Instead of going with my instincts and taking a baseball bat down there, I just went up to him and in a calm voice I said, ‘I want this to stop. Right now.’ That was it. No come back. No parting shot. I never heard that bike again. It was very satisfying, and it never got violent.

“There’s just no question,” he happily sighs, “that facing up to a confrontation–if it’s justified–is an intensely satisfying thing.”

“Psychologists will tell you that some people are actually looking to get beaten up,” Brant adds. “We mention this in the ‘Bombastic Manifesto.'”

“It’s in the section titled, ‘What guys know about fighting,'” Todd nods, solemnly quoting, “‘From time to time, you will come upon a brother who is not asking, not begging, but indeed screaming out to have his ass kicked, and it is your honor-bound duty to accommodate him.”

“‘And at any time,” Brant joins in, smiling only slightly, “that brother may be you or me.” He lifts his bottle in a silent toast to all possessors of testosterone, adding, “And is that bombastic or what?”

From the May 29-June 4, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent

This page was designed and created by the Boulevards team.
© 1997 Metro Publishing, Inc.

Sausages

0

Big Scoobies


Totally Tubular: Angelo Ibleto even puts broccoli into the mix.

Photo by Michael Amsler



Sausage gets a whole new grind

By Steve Bjerklie

FRIENDS SCOFF WHEN I CONFESS my love of sausage. They blame my German ancestry or my nostalgia for ballpark red-hots shared with my dad. They conjecture that perhaps its a latent fascination I’m not even aware of for cigars, submarines, and other tubular objects. They shouldn’t. My love is simple: I love good sausage because sausage tastes good. I love it, too, because sausage is the greatest chameleon of foods known to humankind.

A look inside butcher Angelo Ibleto’s cooler proves the point. Next to plump, vacuum-packaged six-packs of bratwurst, linguisa, chorizo, andouille, boudin, Polish, and other traditional sausage fare, sit rafts of turkey-Hawaiian and turkey-cranberry sausage, apple sausage, even turkey-broccoli sausage. These aren’t mere sausages; these are entrées in a casing. They are to hot dogs what filet mignon is to a Whopper.

“To be in business today,” says Ibleto in a rat-a-tat Italian accent, “you’ve got to be a Houdini. You can’t sit around doing nothing, not changing anything, drinking beer all day.” He laughs at the irony, for of course he’s a wine drinker.

Ibleto’s sausages, which he sells out the door of his home butcher shop east of Petaluma, along with his award-winning line of salsas and other condiments, are but a tip in a trend that’s transforming the sausage business nationwide. Stagnant sales, brought by health and diet concerns, of traditional Old World­type sausage drove the industry’s progressives to rethink the entire idea of stuffing seasoned meat into a sheep-gut casing.

Toward the end of the 1980s, Bruce Aidells added to his line of eponymous-branded Cajun sausage specialties (andouille and boudin) with new items seasoned with lemon, sage, basil, and tarragon. He took out the pork and put in chicken or turkey. Over in Napa, Gerhard Twele made his delicious apple-and-chicken sausage a regional breakfast staple. And in the East Bay, Montebello replaced the fat in its sausages with potatoes.

And then there’s Southern California, where Jody Maroni began selling concoctions on Venice Beach that Oscar Mayer couldn’t have imagined on an acid trip. Maroni has dozens of recipes and a product line that sounds like a Third World bazaar: “Yucatan” chicken sausage seasoned with basil and Dos Equis beer; a pork-based Portuguese link featuring figs, pine nuts, coriander, cilantro, and Marsala wine; “Moroccan” lamb sausage spiced with currants, tangerines, and cumin.

“This is great stuff,” Marconi says, standing beneath a Campari umbrella in front of his ocean-side stand. “This is good food. This is sausage art. This is all the fun stuff the big guys have left behind, and so they’ve left behind the kinds of people who are coming up to me, wanting sausages with tangerines in them, for God’s sake.”

Closer to home, Ibleto, who has been in the meat business more than 20 years, points out the economic necessity of adapting to changing conditions. “There is hardly any beef in the county anymore. Families that used to raise cattle, their children don’t want to do it. City people who come up and buy land, they want to raise horses, not cattle. Over the past 15 years, 27 butcher shops in the county have closed. There are only a few of us left now.”

Changing tastes, too, played a big role. The grease-puddling sausages of yore caused California foodies to dive for cover. It was tough to reconcile bratwurst and arugula.

A few years ago, Ibleto got a call one day from the American Cancer Society. Could he come up with a “healthy” sausage for an ACS banquet? The president of the United States helped him out. The day before, George Bush had made the comment that since he had become the leader of the free world, he didn’t have to eat broccoli anymore. Angelo knew that if Bush–famously known for snacking on fried pork rinds–didn’t like it, it was probably healthy. He bought a crate of broccoli at a local super, diced the florets, and threw them into a mix of ground turkey and spices. At the banquet he got raves all around for the new sausage, and his turkey-broccoli link remains one of his best sellers.

Its success, in fact, set Ibleto on a new course. For the next Christmas he made a piquant, sweet-and-peppery turkey-cranberry sausage, and it flew out of his shop. Now he keeps it in stock year-round. Other exotic combinations soon followed: a turkey Italian sausage enhanced with Sebastopol apples; another Italian-style sausage flavored with sun-dried tomatoes and more apples; and a sweet-and-sour turkey “Hawaiian” link. “I’ll probably try a vegetarian sausage next,” he says. “People come here and tell me they’re vegetarian. I say, ‘What are you doing in a butcher shop?’ But if I can make something to make them come back, I should.” He watches me enjoy a succulent slice of mild pork Louisiana sausage, hot off the grill. “I am glad that you are not a vegetarian. Some writers are, you know.”

Ibleto makes sausage in 350-pound batches two days a week. The old, enameled Hobart grinder he uses isn’t much larger than a big sink–this is cozy, hands-on manufacturing. And like any sausage man of pride, Ibleto is finicky about his raw materials, buying beef only from Harris Ranch and pork from the Midwest. He specifies lean cuts of both, and none of his traditional sausages drizzle fat the way links from big-name processors do.

I’ve seen an Oscar Mayer plant grind out more sausage in one minute than Ibleto will in his lifetime. He couldn’t care less. The giants of the industry are in some other business.

For his part, Ibleto has begun re-experimenting with tradition. Just before I leave his shop he waves me into a back room with the enthusiasm of a kid showing off a secret hiding place. He points to the ceiling. “My new ones,” he says, smiling.

A half-dozen moldy white tubes dangle from a rail–examples of pure sausage-making craft, Italian dry salami. A wondrous product. He cuts one down, peels back the paper, knifes off a few slices. They tingle and explode in my mouth, the best salami I’ve had since a trip to the Mediterranean years ago. Ibleto watches my face. He knows. I may be standing in a shop east of Petaluma, but my tongue is enjoying a stroll on the Italian Riviera.

From the May 29-June 4, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent

This page was designed and created by the Boulevards team.
© 1997 Metrosa, Inc.

The Scoop

0

Rise Up!

By Bob Harris

EIGHT SEPARATISTS calling themselves “Soldiers of the Republic of Venice” recently stormed the bell tower in St. Mark’s Square and demanded that Venice secede from Italy. Noble? Maybe. Misguided? Definitely.

Obviously, everybody has a right to self-determination. But what self-governance actually means has changed drastically, thanks to a multitude of international trade agreements.

Here’s an example: The European Union doesn’t want to import American beef because they’re scared of the hormones we put in ours. You probably wouldn’t want to be force-fed escargots, so even if you enjoy munching on cow parts you can see their point. However, the World Trade Organization, which rules these matters since the GATT agreement, dictates that Europe either has to let the meat roll in or pay a quarter-billion-dollar penalty.

All their flags and anthems and armies didn’t give the Europeans a right to their own health standards.

As the boundaries between American states have become less significant in the last century, so will boundaries between nations in the next.

You can draw the map any way you want to; you’ll still buy the map with a Visa card.

Just to demonstrate, I’ll declare independence myself. Watch. I am now officially the Most Serene Republic of Bob. “Louie, Louie” is my national anthem, and I’m getting military aid from the State Department so I don’t overthrow myself.

I’m still gonna have to buy stuff.

The only power I have is over what I choose to buy, and now even that’s disappearing. (OK. I’m relinquishing statehood now, before the FBI storms me.)

If the folks in Venice really want to fight for independence, they’re gonna have to realize that the modern empire no longer arrives in tanks, but in drive-thrus. AK-47s and a flag by themselves probably won’t defeat 501s and a Coke.

The upside? No two countries that have McDonald’s have ever gone to war.

Of course, once you’re assimilated, “culture” is just the local language on the menu.

TWO MONTHS AGO, Bill Clinton ripped up his knee. Y’know, if he was in an HMO like a lot of folks, right about now his coverage would expire. He’d have to pay for his therapy out of his own pocket or at least give the Lincoln Bedroom to the head of Blue Cross.

The president, however, isn’t in managed care. He’s covered by the Pentagon, so he gets gyroscopic titanium crutches, stealth-technology blast-hardened knee braces, and X-rays from the Hubble Space Telescope.

Not surprisingly, he’s recovering in record time.

I’m genuinely glad he’s feeling better–it’s wrong to wish pain on anyone except talk-show host Jerry Springer –but the president should realize that if he worked downtown he’d have to ration his treatments and probably couldn’t climb steps by now.

And if he worked the grill up at Squat Burger he’d still be jerking shakes from a wheelchair.

Clinton’s health-care proposals a while back were a mess, but there are a lot of bright people with good ideas in the world. Maybe if the folks in Washington got the same coverage the rest of us get, they’d do something more about the declining quality of our health plans besides taking PAC money from insurers and balancing the budget by cutting Medicare.

At least that’s my knee-jerk reaction. (Loud, embarrassed coughing.) Sorry.

THE HOUSE JUDICIARY Committee is holding hearings on “judicial activism.” See, some congressmen have actually called for the impeachment of federal judges whose decisions they personally don’t like.

This is doubleplusungood. Our system of checks and balances exists precisely to prevent such partisan attacks on the judiciary. House Majority Whip Tom DeLay has actually said that “an impeachable offense is whatever a majority of the House of Representatives considers it to be at a given moment.”

Hello? I guess Marbury vs. Madison was just some 19th-century boxing match, and the late Supreme Court Justice John Marshall was only a security guy in a men’s room.

You can’t simply yank judges around just because you disagree and expect the republic to stand.

Hey, I’m not so thrilled with Clarence Thomas. Forget ideology or Anita Hill. The American Bar Association, which researches the judicial experience of every candidate, concluded he was the least qualified nominee in 30 years. He simply never deserved the job. But the Senate confirmed him and the Constitution gives him a gavel, so I’d gladly hold his robe.

However, here comes Robert Bork–remember that goateed space-alien guy, the one who made his crooked bones by firing the Watergate special prosecutor on behalf of Nixon?–to propose a constitutional amendment allowing Supreme Court rulings to be overturned in Congress.

OK, sure, let’s punt judicial independence entirely. Why study the Jefferson presidency when we can emulate Cuba, Iran, and Uganda?

Trashing two centuries of constitutional law–now there’s “judicial activism” for you.

From the May 22-28, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent

This page was designed and created by the Boulevards team. © 1997 Metrosa, Inc.

CD Reviews

0

Carny Time

By Gil Kaufman

THE FIRST SOLO offering from self-proclaimed “Hip Hop Amadeus” Wyclef Jean of the Fugees, Wyclef Jean Presents the Carnival, will hit stores on June 24. The album, which press materials refer to as a “multi-cultural, multi-genre, multi-generational tour de force . . . also a call to higher musical consciousness,” features everything from a hip-hop reappropriation of the Bee Gees disco ditty “We Trying to Stay Alive” to a hip-hop interpolation of the traditional Cuban anthem “Guantanamera” (with Latin superstar Celia Cruz).

Several of the tunes are sung in Jean’s native Haitian French/Creole tongue (“Sang Fezi,” “Jaspora,” “Yele” and “Carnival”), and a number feature the Refugee Allstars, Jean’s Fugees band mates Lauryn Hill and Prakazrel, joined by John Forte (the first signing to their label, Refugee Camp Records) and Melky Sedeck (Wyclef’s sister).

The Neville Brothers drop by on “Mona Lisa,” reggae legends the I-Threes lend their voices to “Gunpowder,” and Jean himself conducts the New York Philharmonic Orchestra on “Gone ‘Til November.”

Jean will take the Carnival on the road during the summer for a still-unannounced series of dates.

FORMERLY BALD pope-basher Sinéad O’Connor re-emerges from three years of self-imposed exile on June 3 with a new six-track EP called Gospel Oak. Her first effort since 1994’s poorly received Universal Mother, the EP, with five new songs written by O’Connor and a live cover of the traditional Irish song “He Moved Through the Fair,” will be preceded by the single “This Is to Mother You.”

The provocative no-edit video for “This Is to Mother You” was described by a source as “starting out with a tight shot of O’Connor’s face and then pulling back to reveal her in bed with Kris Kristofferson, with whom she goes at it in a very sexy, sensual way.”

It was journeyman country-rock singer/songwriter Kristofferson (his compositions include “Me and Bobby McGee,” which was made famous by Janis Joplin) who defended O’Connor’s honor when she was booed off the stage of a Bob Dylan tribute in 1992 after her so-very-controversial pope picture-shredding incident on Saturday Night Live.

THE NEW ALBUM from the Prodigy will finally see the light of day on July 1. Entitled The Fat of the Land, the disc has been an oft-delayed affair as the band tweaked and re-tweaked tracks, no doubt feeling just a bit of pressure to live up to its “Monsters of Electronica” billing.

The album will be preceded by the single “Breathe.” In addition to their hit “Firestarter,” the album also will feature an as-yet-untitled collaboration with Kula Shaker’s Crispian Mills and a track called “Diesel Power” with Dr. Octagon/Kool Keith on the mike. Also rumored to be on the album is a cover of L7’s “Fuel My Fire” with backing vocals from Republica singer Saffron.

The self-produced effort will get a live preview on May 26 in Toronto when the band plays its first string of U.S. dates (also oft-delayed) before joining Lollapalooza for a half dozen gigs in the closing slot.

Gil Kaufman is senior music writer at ‘Addicted to Noise‘.

From the May 22-28, 1997 issue of the Sonoma County Independent

This page was designed and created by the Boulevards team.
© 1997 Metrosa, Inc.

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Carny Time By Gil KaufmanTHE FIRST SOLO offering from self-proclaimed "Hip Hop Amadeus" Wyclef Jean of the Fugees, Wyclef Jean Presents the Carnival, will hit stores on June 24. The album, which press materials refer to as a "multi-cultural, multi-genre, multi-generational tour de force . . . also a call to higher musical consciousness," features everything from a hip-hop...
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