Mendocino County Today: Wednesday 8/21/2024

Coast | Warm | Free Show | Scrimmage Only | Forest Light | Radio Exercise | Big Time | Rhubarb Harvest | Riley Appearance | Cleanup Day | Full Moon | Internship Program | Pacific | River Destruction | Scale | Ed Notes | Bee | Circus Caravan | Yesterday's Catch | AV Moon | Independent Origin | Yorkville Social | Ernie's Bat | Ravens | Ginger Ale | Boonville Connection | Kelseyville Dispute | Be Gone | Border Shuffles | Hecka Resinous | Back Window | Sillyass Pledge | Liberation | Chi-Town | Blind Spots | Tangier | Moral Decay | Van Ness | Night 1 | Healing | Freedom Frame | Say Anything | Night 2 | Really Supportive

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SEASONABLY WARM AND DRY temps expected today before a strong upper low initiates a cooling trend and measurable precipitation Thursday through Saturday. Temperatures expected to warm again late this weekend into next week. (NWS)

STEPHEN DUNLAP (Fort Bragg): 54F under a big shiny moon this Wednesday morning on the coast. The fog has started to rebuild, we might see a little at night & mornings. A now 70% chance for rain on Friday mostly.

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AV PANTHER COACH JOHN TOOHEY

I am deeply disappointed to announce that we will not be fielding a football team this season. Due to declining enrollment, a lack of interest, and issues with punctuality and consistency, we have no other option.

PS. The football team will still meet. We will lift weights and still engage in team building drills.

We may be able to play a few games this season with teams at similar developmental levels.

We will finish out practice these next two weeks and try to attend the scrimmage in Potter Valley, but playing games is out of the question. The kids who have been coming to practice deserve at least the experience of the scrimmage.

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2024 COASTAL REGION RADIO EXERCISE

Even if you're not a ham radio operator, get on your GMRS radio between 10 and 1 (1300) and call gaspo with your made up emergency so that he can call it in - he has a ham radio. This will give the county an idea of what our communication abilities are. Keep reading:

Gaspo says: There is a ham radio emcom excercise coming up on the 22nd of august. It's a drill where net control calls each location and they reply with made-up damage reports. might be fun to do a pa repeater gmrs drill at the same time, and then I could relay those reports into the ham net. or at least listen in on the county-wide repeater system so you can hear how a net operates. we might be able to hear "fishrock" repeater from Point Arena.

The exercise will be held Thursday August 22nd beginning at 0900 with a general briefing. Most activities will take place between 1000 and 1300. This is an opportunity for Ham Radio operators in the county to gain experience responding to an emergency incident, in this case a simulated 7.8 Earthquake. Participants may respond via their home or office stations. We need radio operators to simulate field assignments and pass information to the county Emergency Operations Center (EOC). There will be a short Zoom training prior to the event and a general briefing for participants the morning of the exercise. We need your support!

To register for the exercise, please follow the link copied below and register in the role of "Player". Once you have registered, or if you have questions, please send an email to Mike Heil, K6MAH at maheil@pacbell.net.

Looking forward to your support of this exercise.

REGISTRATION LINK: https://humboldtgov.org/FormCenter/Office-of-Emergency-Services-23/2024-Coastal-Region-Radio-Exercise-Parti-232

(Jennifer Smallwood)

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REPORT FROM A SMALL FARM IN BOONVILLE

Ok, some of you already know I'm nuts but for those who don't…

I was on my knees (wearing knee pads of course), wielding a pruner and harvesting rhubarb for an hour this afternoon all the while thinking about what I would write for my report, when I had a revelation. I love rhubarb…rhubarb sauce, pie and strawberry rhubarb jam. Which is why I planted it when we first started the farm. But it loves a moist coastal climate and never did well on our hot, dry, inland farm especially since, in my ignorance, I planted it at the top of the main field, in rocky soil, without shade and little water. For fifteen years it struggled but didn't die.

Then, eleven years ago Juan joined us as our main gardener and covered it with shade cloth as a result we had a small harvest each season. But, two years ago when we found the time to look at the rhubarb we said to each other…we need to move them. We had just had dug a million gallon pit pond on flat clay land up the hill on the 501 property and he had installed a plumbing system from it down to our gardens which until then had been watered with our drinking water supply.

Juan moved all the plants down the hill into better soil, covered them with shade cloth and watered them daily. In one year they established themselves and this year exploded. I've harvested nearly 10 lbs several times already and once the weather cools and becomes moist they'll keep producing.

The Strawberry Rhubarb and plain Rhubarb jams are a hit at markets and at home. And I now understand exactly what I mean when I say I'm looking for the “real”. Ain't nothing realer than crawling around under huge rhubarb leaves to harvest a good crop of fresh “fruit” to make food for others who love it.

Maybe it's just that the positive vibes and dancing the HarrisWalz lately has gone to my head, but I'm happier and more relaxed now knowing that the country may get to work on the overwhelming numbers of issues confronting our world, starting with the root cause of it all…climate change. We hope you, too, are looking forward and charging ahead to correct our (the world's) direction. It may be late, but there's no other choice.

Take care,

Nikki Auschnitt & Steve Krieg

South of Boonville

PS. Speaking of climate, our front door swallows had 3 chicks this year and left almost immediately after they fledged. There was no interest in having a second or third set as they've done in prior years. They know something about the weather that we don't and we should be taking note.

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RILEY LEMONS:

Excited to head back home and play a show, especially since it’s right in the middle of hunting season!

Join me at the Anderson Valley Brewing Company on Saturday, the 24th, from 4-6 pm for some good brews and tunes.

Looking forward to seeing some familiar faces there!

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FROM STREETS TO CREEKS:

2024 Ukiah Valley Russian River Cleanup to be Held Saturday, Sept. 28

Volunteers Needed for Annual Pollution Prevention and Stewardship Event

Ukiah – Would you like to make an immediate improvement to the environment and have fun doing it? Does the sight of litter in our creeks make you want to take action? Then come join the annual Ukiah Valley Russian River Cleanup, held on Coastal Cleanup Day, Saturday, September 28, from 8:30 AM to Noon.

The 110-mile-long Russian River snakes around serpentine hills of blue oak woodlands from northern Ukiah down south of Healdsburg, before winding westward through steep, fir-studded valleys past Guerneville, and spilling past myriad Harbor seals into the Pacific at Jenner. The Russian River is home to snails, dragonflies, turtles, newts, snakes, toads, frogs, fish, otters, ducks, hawks, and so many other important friends in our ecosystem. Many sea-dwelling fishes including Coho salmon, Steelhead trout, and Pacific lamprey visit the Russian River to reproduce.

The Russian River watershed is also home to many dedicated human stewards. Last year, in the Ukiah Valley alone, over 180 volunteers collected 3,500 pounds of trash! Cigarette butts are the most frequently collected item, followed by single-use plastic packaging, such as food wrappers. It’s tempting to pull out large objects like tires and bicycles, but small litter is just as important, and cigarette butts release toxic chemicals into the water, which can pose enormous harm to aquatic species.

Be part of the solution! To join the cleanup, pre-register through MCRCD’s website, Facebook page, or directly at https://tinyurl.com/RRCleanup24 by September 23rd. Volunteers will gather for a safety talk and to divide into teams. Come early at 8:30 to sign in and get a cup of coffee donated by Black Oak Coffee Roasters. Bring a water bottle, sturdy shoes, and work gloves. No flip flops!

The event is co-sponsored by the Mendocino County Resource Conservation District, Mendocino County Water Agency, and Redwood Waste Solutions, along with numerous local partners including the City of Ukiah and Black Oak Coffee Roasters. For questions or for more information, contact Jessica Reid at j.reid@mcrcd.org.

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PAID INTERNSHIP PROGRAM FOR QUALIFYING YOUTH

Workforce Alliance North Bay (WANB), Mendocino College, and the County of Mendocino are excited to announce the expansion of the County’s internship program. This exciting partnership launches the opportunity for young adults to engage in local workforce training and career exploration while earning academic credit or, in some cases, an hourly wage.

The internship program, a collaborative effort between WANB, Mendocino College, and the County of Mendocino, seeks to address the needs of local youth by offering paid internships or the ability to earn academic credits by working in various County departments. Through this program, eligible candidates will have the chance to gain practical skills, explore career paths, and develop professionally in County government departments.

Internship applications are open to all youth & young adults, and paid opportunities are available to those who meet specific eligibility criteria, including meeting certain age and income level requirements. Qualifying interns will receive compensation for their work and will have the opportunity to work in local county government to gain hands-on experience in their chosen field. The aim is to support the next generation of leaders and professionals while strengthening our local workforce, by providing youth with the opportunity, tools, and experiences to explore their career path.

The internship program is a 280-hour program, with flexible start dates and will include training, mentorship, and career building opportunities to support professional development. Depending on department and student needs, positions range from 8-40 hours a week. Participants will also have access to additional resources and support services to help them succeed both during and after the internship period. Positions are available in a variety of departments including Economic Development, Prevention, Recovery, Resiliency and Mitigation within the Executive Office, Behavioral and Public Health, GSA/Facilities, Animal Services, and the County Museum.

Applications for the paid internship program is open and interested candidates are encouraged to email CareerPoint Mendocino at mendocinoajcc@careerpointnorthbay.org or call (707)708-3828 for more information on eligibility criteria and application requirements. Mendocino College students can email careerhub@mendocino.edu or call (707)468-3044.

About Workforce Alliance North Bay: Workforce Alliance North Bay (WANB) is a regional workforce development board dedicated to supporting economic growth and prosperity in the North Bay region. Through strategic partnerships and initiatives, WANB through CareerPoint Mendocino works to connect job seekers with employment opportunities and to provide businesses with the skilled workforce they need to thrive.

About Mendocino College: Mendocino College is a public community college located in Ukiah, California. The college offers a wide range of programs, including associate degrees, certificates, and transfer opportunities to four-year institutions. Mendocino College partners with a dynamic community of diverse students to help them achieve their educational goals. Informed by research, reflection, dialogue, equity and anti-racist practices the College is committed to student success and achievement.

About County of Mendocino: The County of Mendocino is committed to serving the residents of Mendocino County by providing essential services and promoting economic, environmental, and social sustainability. The County works collaboratively with community partners to address the needs of its diverse population and to create a vibrant and resilient community for all.

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ON LINE COMMENT OF THE DAY #1

Walk any part of the Navarro river and you will see pumps every 20 yards or so going directly to vineyards. I asked a game warden once why this was allowed and he told me only PUMPING was illegal. Having the pump ready to go is totally fine. So unless they get caught actually pumping there is no issues for them. Its a travesty of justice and has destroyed a river that once had salmon and otters and numerous other wildlife that has been eradicated.

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BILL KIMBERLIN:

I remember looking at a large book of Ansel Adams photos where one was labeled with a remark by the author. The photo was of a grand giant bolder somewhere at Yosemite. The author said, “We don't know why Ansel left these two people in the very bottom of the photo of such a beautiful landscape.”

I felt like raising my hand because I knew. In photography and especially in film making scale is crucial to selling a scene. It is the only way to suggest that something is either very large or very small.

My old truck in this photo of my back yard in Anderson Valley gives it at least some idea of scale.

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ED NOTES

REAL ESTATE AD from 2004 from North Country Real Estate, Boonville:

“40-plus acres of Douglas fir & hardwoods. Located off Nash Ranch Road. A problem parcel that needs a problem solver or long term investor. No access, we can’t even show you the property, but we have maps and photos. Owner says make offer. $175,000.”

BUYER SAYS “Prove it’s there first then parachute me in for a look around and we’ll talk.”

ONE EASY DAY I was looking through the used books at Boonville's perennial Barn Sale, a trove offering up some real treasures, and one I always tried to plunder at least once every couple of months. That day, I was only half-aware of the three raggedy young hippies browsing next to me. I did note their bare feet on the cold day, and I wondered why the heck anybody, let alone a young anybody, would want to be a hippie almost 30 years after the last of the breed was extinct, although there are rumored to be a couple way to hell and gone in Spy Rock.

DON'T GET ME WRONG. Some of my best friends are hippies. Or were hippies, and I aspired to beatnik-hood myself as a youth, flush in the delusion that I was a poet. I never had the least desire to be a hippie, being fully committed to all the creature comforts consumer capitalism can come up with. I’m also fully committed to orderliness because life is a little simpler if you’re not always looking for things in an overall condition of chaos.

I ALWAYS thought the generic hippie’s commitment to doing everything the hard way, the 19th century way, was a class indicator: People who grew up in straitened circumstances were unlikely to aspire to an unheated, off the grid, dirt floor cabin while subsisting on a joyless rice-based diet leavened only by a few lean vegetables from a failed garden. The only people who wanted to live poor in the 1960s were people who weren't poor.

BUT HERE WERE these three, two young men and a very pregnant young woman. If she’d been my daughter I’d have had the deprogrammers on her in a flash. I had to restrain myself from trying to pry some info out of her while I tried to determine if she was underage, a pretext for summoning law enforcement to save her from herself. Barefoot and pregnant on a very cold Saturday in Boonville, standing there at the book shelves in a smock straight off the Little Match Girl in the chill of an early morning sales barn, a couple of stoned doofuses between her and catastrophe.

THE PREGNANT young woman pulled out a well-worn copy of Dr. Spock’s how-to baby book. I was relieved she had enough sense left to turn to Spock in her time of need. Spock might alleviate the squalor, mental and physical, of both her and the new American she was carrying.

“DO YOU think I can get this one?” she asked her engrimed mate. Her captor squinted suspiciously at the photo of the robust, confident-looking baby doctor on the book’s jacket. “How much is it?” he wanted to know. “Twenty-five cents,” the girl replied. “I think I can handle that,” her gallant assured her. And darned if he didn’t spring for the whole quarter!

RECURRING IRRITANTS FILE: Righteous bumper stickers. Brand new Volvo sedan outside the Good Earth (sic) Market, Fairfax. “Celebrate diversity” in rainbow colors on one end of the rear bumper, “Tell children the truth” at the other end of the bumper. (Or maybe it was the more pompous “Speak truth to children,” I can’t remember exactly how it was phrased because I was looking for something to vandalize the vehicle with instead of searching out my pen.) The true message is always, “Celebrate Me. I Think Good Thoughts.” And why scare the kids with a lot of gloom and doom? The celebrating diversity types can’t be trusted to tell the kids anything, let alone the truth. The kids will get the bad news in due time. We all do.

“THERE'S NO EXCUSE FOR DOMESTIC VIOLENCE.” Wrong. There are lots of reasons for domestic violence, but the reasons for not doing it are a lot better than the reasons for doing it.

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1888 MENDOCINO COUNTY: YES, YOU SAW AN ELEPHANT!

by Katy Tahja

Imagine this: It’s 1888 and you are a small child living on a ranch on the Mail Ridge Road in northern Mendocino County. You see the dust of travelers coming along the roadway and run down the ranch road because you don’t believe what your eyes see.

Coming down the road is an elephant. You know it is an elephant because you saw a drawing on one in a school book. And next to the elephant walks a camel, a very unusual one pure white in color. These animals are under the control of three attendants moving them along. You run to get your Mom to come out and see this amazing sight because no one would ever believe you when you say what you saw on the road.

Yes, this really happened in 1888. It was one of those history mysteries that leaves a historian asking why and how?

Back in these early days of travel taking a boat from San Francisco to Humboldt Bay was the fastest way to go. There was constant shipping traffic as finished lumber and farm products came down from the north and trade goods were shipped up from the south. Road transportation was sketchy with wagon roads crossing rivers and summiting the Coast Range making progress slow.

So it was no surprise a circus troop would choose water transportation when they could. Once the circus did perform non Eureka it would have to travel wagons roads to go east, but for now they looked forward to an ocean voyage.

The first big circus scheduled to reach Eureka was the Forepaugh Circus. Waiting on the docks of San Francisco Bay the circus discovered they had a problem when it came to getting two creatures on board. Empress the elephant and Nebo, an albino camel, didn’t fit. They were just too BIG.

While a stack of timbers can rest on the open deck of a ship in wind and rain animals were not going to be standing still on the ever shifting deck. So what to do?

It’s about 200 miles from San Francisco to Eureka. An open boat deck could accommodate the two animals on a short voyage across the Golden Gate to Tiburon. From there the railroad ran north to the end of the line in Cloverdale. These animals were used to riding in open rail cars so they were loaded up with three attendants and taken to Cloverdale. Then the critters and crew began walking north to rejoin the circus in Eureka.

Newspaper accounts told of children in awe by the sides of the road as they progressed through Mendocino County along the Russian River, then beyond Willits and Long Valley they started up the Mail Ridge/Bell Springs Road. They did have some problems. It was reported “Mrs. Fowzer, while traveling the Walker Ridge grade, had a serious accident befall her when the circus animals appeared. Her horse took fright and backed off the road and overturned the wagon. These animals caused considerable consternation among the horses.”

They overnighted in a stage coach barn in Harris in Humboldt County, then descended towards the Van Duzen River in Carlotta, where a logging train took the weary crew and animals into Eureka to rejoin the circus. Now wouldn’t that have been something to see.

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CATCH OF THE DAY, Tuesday, August 20, 2024

MARK ANASTASIOU, Potter Valley. Robbery, grand theft-firearm, felon-addict with firearm, assault with firearm, loaded handgun-not registered owner, ammo possession by prohibited person, paraphernalia.

ARIANA ARNOLD, Ukiah. Failure to appear.

ISMAEL GARCIA, Ukiah. Cultivation of more than six pot plants, controlled substance for sale, pot for sale, child neglect, assault weapon.

DIANNA GIBSON, Fort Bragg. Paraphernalia, probation revocation.

PAUL HEATH, Ukiah. Domestic violence court order violation, failure to appear.

RODNEY HUBBARD, Ukiah. Failure to appear.

KENNETH SWOCK, Vallejo/Ukiah. Pot possession for sale, resisting.

ASHTYN TAYLOR, Ukiah. Failure to appear.

TABITHA WILLIAMS, Kelseyville/Ukiah. Battery.

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THE HUMBOLDT INDEPENDENT: 1997 TO 2024

by Gulch Mulch

Monday we said goodbye to The Independent, the feisty weekly newspaper which has lasted twenty-seven years, and this is the story of how it started when a handful of locals got together and made it happen:

After the Redwood Record went out of business in ‘95 there was heard a murmur in the community about starting another paper, an alternative to Bill Roddy’s weekly ”The Life and Times.” Karol had told me her friend Jerry was interested and a few weeks later she took me across town to meet him and talk about the idea. He showed me his template of the first page of his dream paper which he called “The Emerald City Gazette.”

A couple months later I visited Jerry again, we talked more about the paper idea, and a few days later I asked my neighbor Rosa, an aspiring writer, “Hey, you wanna start a paper?”

“Yes!” she said.

The first meeting was just before Reggae on the River at Tooby Park. Six of us sat around the picnic table talking about the idea, including Eric our volunteer attorney. We shared our thoughts about what we’d like in the proposed paper, that first meeting the most contentious issue was whether to allow anonymous articles and/or letters.

I donated $260, the little office in Garberville was rented, and some supplies were purchased. We had a few more weekly meetings at Tooby where a lot of time was spent on what the name should be. Driving up to Smith River Karol and I brainstormed possible names for a couple hours and she finally came up with “The Independent.” It wasn't too repugnant for Rosa or too kitschy for Sylvia -- it was a compromise choice.

We started having weekly editorial meetings, roles emerged, and Jerry became our Editor-in-Chief and leader. Some dropped out of the organizing process, new ones came on board, and we had a lot of columnists but few reporters.

The business aspect of the paper was daunting: who would be responsible? Was it a collective? A partnership? Everyone wanted to do the creative part but no one really wanted to do the business. Jerry plunged ahead building the Indy as the editor, writing stories, and coordinating everything.

(It was a good time to start a paper as the first issue covered some hot local stories: the Bear Lincoln trial, the Health Center/Hospital negotiations, the first publicized Prop 215 garden, and the latest Headwaters rally.)

Jerry was overwhelmed, the publication deadline passed, and then Karol and Bridgette marched in and pushed it through a week late, which didn’t seem too bad considering the first organizational meeting had been just two months before. (We wondered if there would be a second.)

Congratulations to Rip, Joe, and the rest of the Kirby family who took over the Indie in 1999 and put it out it for twenty-five years. It was a great run, over 1900 issues!

(This is the first time since the Redwood Record started in 1935 that the Garberville area will be without a local paper.)

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MR. CUB & MY LITTLE BRO

by Kent Wallace

This here is a true tale—the tale of Ernie Banks’ cracked bat.

Candlestick Park, San Francisco (circa 1966)

The game—Giants versus Cubs, and while the winner of that game is lost to me, the names of the players aren’t: Mays, McCovey, Cepeda, Marichal — Santo, Williams, Jenkins, and, of course, Ernie Banks…

After the game, Howie Brownstein’s pop brought us boys to an exit behind the park — a chain link fence exit. That was where the players departed the “Stick,” but before they did, some guy would come out and offer up used game balls and cracked bats — some lucky lads were the benefactors.

I remember my face plastered against the steel mesh—pleading (along with all the other boys) for a bat or a ball (but let’s be honest, a bat was the trophy).

I remember, just as clearly, the eye contact made and the halting command of the man: “Him,” he barked, pointing the bat towards me. And as the kids stepped back — silent now — the bat was passed through the fence and into my hands.

I was suddenly swamped with pats on the back, gawking eyes, and cries of “Whose is it — whose is it?”

While my hands stuck to the sticky, tacky patina of pine tar on the hilt of the ash lathed bat, my eyes scanned its length. Lo-and-behold, the name engraved was Ernie Banks.

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Fast Forward (1978)

My little brother Mark (always a baseball stud) is playing at Corona del Mar High School in Newport Beach, CA.

Now Mark’s dream is, and has always been, to make the Big Leagues, and he’s looking good for a full-ride to some competitive college.

It’s his senior season, and the kid hits a slump — the ball is evasive, his dream diminishing.

In desperation, he goes out to the garage and seeks out the cracked bat of Ernie Banks.

He tacks it (small nails reattaching the splinter to the core), tapes it up, and wraps his mitts around the stalk, the very handle that “Mr. Sunshine” hisself once held, all those years ago, in Candlestick Park.

Now, it must be said, not only was this illegal (the tacking), but then, as today, everyone used aluminum bats.

In his next game, Mark stepped to the plate. Chocking up because of the weight of the bat, he held the timber of a champ in his hands.

Three hits — a slump smashed — a dream reborn…

Afterwards, the bat went back to the garage (having evaded detection), and Mark continued to hit.

My little brother (Mark Marches) went on to receive a full scholarship to UC Riverside. In 1982, he was a starter on the school’s Division II, collegiate World Series-winning baseball team.

Mark knocked around semi-pro leagues for a few years but never reached the bigs. He did, however, reach for Ernie Banks cracked bat — once upon a time…

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GOT UP TODAY…

Got up today and performed morning ablutions. Haven't been outside since Sunday afternoon. Now watching the mind which is quizzical about being non-attached…free to go anywhere…free to do basically anything…also, read the postings yesterday and today on the Anderson Valley Advertiser online wishing me well and thanking me for all of the writing and sharing of my situation during the past two years in Ukiah. Additionally, am receiving emails suggesting that I go to various social service agencies for help of one sort or another. I am comfortable in my own skin! No idea what the future holds. None at all. I am available for just about anything worldwide. P.S. America needs to understand that I am not schizophrenic. I am not at all in pain. I am free. There is a difference. Stay in touch, amigo.

PS. Finally made it out of the motel room, and ambled on over to the Ukiah Co-op for a nosh and much needed coffee. My friend Don Damp spotted me outside later, and offered me a ride to the library, so that we could have a brief chat. He laughed when I retold the story of dropping into The Forest Club on Saturday, and then the next day renouncing the consumption of alcoholic beverages. He had been a ranch hand and drank as needed back in the day. And then he quit. He said that one can still go into a bar and drink ginger ale, if one gets tired of living alone in a motel room and would like some social company. I said that I’ll figure something else out.

It’s 4:00 p.m. at the Ukiah Public Library, and I am now sitting in front of computer #1. Frankly, I don’t know at all what to make of my absurd situation anymore. I just want it to change. I must get back out into the larger world, and be an active voice for Self Realization and for basic sanity and for destroying the demonic and returning this insane global spectacle to righteousness. Regardless, I will depart this world at the proper time, and go up. I have no explanation insofar as my being stuck in present circumstances. I seriously “don’t know”. Am slogging through it all. That is the truth, but don’t ask me to explain. It’s not schizophrenia. I’m not in pain. It’s not alcoholism. Just quit with ease. It’s not physical. It’s not dental. It’s not mental. It’s not spiritual. If you figure it out before I do, let me know. Maybe Meher Baba was correct when the silent sage wrote on his chalk board: “God alone is real”.

Craig Louis Stehr, craiglouisstehr@gmail.com

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THE BOONVILLE CONNECTION

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A TOWN’S NAME RECALLS THE MASSACRE OF INDIGENOUS PEOPLE. WILL CHANGING IT BRING HEALING?

by Tyrone Beason

The town of Kelseyville bills itself as one of Northern California’s best-kept secrets — an idyllic wine country community that overlooks the state’s largest freshwater lake, as well as a 4,305-foot volcano that is blanketed in greenery.

But a dispute has erupted over a proposal to change the town’s name because of the history it evokes of violence against Indigenous people.

It is said that the town takes its name from Andrew Kelsey, a notorious white settler who, with his business partner Charles Stone, brutalized Pomo villagers in the late 1840s — murdering men on a whim, raping women and youths, trafficking children and enslaving and starving tribal members.

“These guys were evil, evil men,” says Clayton Duncan, an elder from the Robinson Rancheria Band of Eastern Pomo Indians. “They exerted complete control by inflicting terror on the people.”

The Lake County Board of Supervisors has responded to calls from both tribal and non-Indigenous residents to change the town’s name — and by extension confront this dark history — by placing a nonbinding advisory measure on the Nov. 5 ballot. It asks residents across the county to vote on whether Kelseyville should be renamed for the mountain that towers over the town, Konocti — a Pomo word meaning “Mountain Woman” that celebrates both the volcano and the area’s 14,000 years of Indigenous history.

Even if voters reject the measure, the board has indicated that it still might move forward with recommending the change to the U.S. Bureau of Geographic Names, which has authority over the naming process because Kelseyville is in an unincorporated part of Lake County and lacks its own government.

Few of Kelseyville’s 3,800 residents dispute that Kelsey was a cruel man who seemed to take pleasure in mistreating Indigenous people. He and one of his brothers, Ben Kelsey, were infamous in their own time too, according to a research paper by historian and archaeologist John Parker. The paper was presented to the Lake County Historical Society in 2021, and can be watched on YouTube.

Fed up with the abuse, tribal members banded together and executed both Andrew Kelsey and Stone. Accounts of how the men were killed and what happened next vary, Parker found. What is clear, however, is that the killings set off a wave of retaliatory attacks orchestrated by Kelsey’s brothers, armed vigilantes and the U.S. Army. The attacks culminated in the “Bloody Island Massacre” on May 15, 1850, when cavalry soldiers slaughtered hundreds of Indigenous villagers at Clear Lake.

Attackers stormed a ceremonial gathering place on an island on the lake’s north end called Bo-No-Po-Ti, hunting down women, children and elderly people with bayonets as they fled for cover in the marshes.

Duncan’s great-grandmother, Lucy Moore, was just 6 when U.S. soldiers and self-appointed avengers besieged her and other villagers.

For 25 years, Duncan has led a springtime sunrise ceremony at the lake to commemorate the massacre, inviting those in attendance to offer forgiveness for what Andrew Kelsey and cohorts — such as his brother and the U.S. cavalry — did to his ancestors.

He sees the violence as rooted in avarice, white supremacy and a profound hatred of Indigenous people that rang through in the proclamations of elected officials of the time, including California’s first governor, Peter Hardeman Burnett, who publicly mused about the need to pursue a “war of extermination” against the state’s tribes.

“It was murder and theft — that simple,” Duncan said recently by phone. “We were in the way of their greed and in the way of all this land.”

It’s a sentiment echoed in the 2016 book “An American Genocide: The United States and the California Indian Catastrophe.” Author and UCLA historian Benjamin Madley wrote that those who committed atrocities such as the Bloody Island Massacre were part of a “killing machine” made up of state and federal authorities, volunteers and hired mercenaries. Like the Spanish and Mexican colonizers before them, American settlers believed that God had decreed their right to California’s natural wealth, and that Indigenous people stood between them and boundless prosperity.

The marshy site where the massacre took place is now dry land — barely noticeable to visitors save for a roadside historical marker that describes the tragedy. But tribal leaders say that doing away with “Kelseyville” will give Indigenous residents a new way to seek healing from a historical trauma that lives on in their hearts and minds.

The effort to change the town’s name started in 2020 as an outgrowth of meetings among concerned county residents who went on to form the group Citizens for Healing. Last year, committee co-founder Lorna Sides formally submitted the change request to the BGN, and touched off a fierce public debate.

Sides, 72, says she was recently accosted by a pair of residents on the street who accused her of hurting the close-knit town.

Sides, who is white and not affiliated with any tribe, says she only has one regret.

“I’m just sorry it’s become such a battle,” she said.

While some opponents say the change would be too costly to implement for the small community, and too burdensome for those whose livelihoods depend on the name recognition that comes with “Kelseyville,” there are others who don’t believe that changing the town’s name is the proper salve for acts of dispossession that played out on a massive scale.

Some locals and businesspeople formed the group Save Kelseyville to push back against Sides and others who say the change is needed to help atone for past wrongs.

“Changing the name of Kelseyville will not change the past,” the group wrote on its website. “This initiative has divided our community rather than offered any healing. The platform to discuss the past may disappear with the name. It is best to educate about history instead of trying to erase it.”

Kelseyville isn’t the only town in the region that’s grappling with its name. Farther west on the Pacific Coast, a group called Change Our Name Fort Bragg has waged a similar effort, arguing that the town’s name honors a slave-holding Confederate general named Braxton Bragg and commemorates a military installation “that facilitated genocide, ethnic cleansing, and involuntary servitude of the indigenous people,” according to the group’s Facebook page.

Given how the Kelseys tried to rob native people of their ancestral connection to their homeland farther inland, it’s dismaying to see people in 2024 argue to keep the name Kelseyville, says Duncan’s nephew, Lake County Supervisor Chair Eddie Crandell. He’s also vice chair of the Robinson Rancheria Citizens Business Council.

While the board has been criticized by some for ordering a countywide vote rather than confining the election to Kelseyville, and by others for not taking direct action to change the name, Crandell says it’s only fair to allow voters throughout the county to participate — given that descendants of those harmed by the Kelseys don’t just live in Kelseyville.

Crandell says he feels an obligation to his four children and his ancestors to support the change, which he hopes will foster a greater appreciation for some of the first peoples to inhabit Northern California. He says he was in his 30s when he began to learn about his Pomo culture, because much of that history had been whitewashed in school lessons.

“[Opponents] say you can’t change history and when does it stop? I have that same question,” says Crandell, 47. “When does it stop that we’re being ignored and not taught our true history?”

Flaman McCloud Jr., chairman of the Big Valley Rancheria of Pomo Indians, said some are indifferent, or don’t see the value of dwelling on the past.

Others, McCloud says, are worried about antagonizing the town’s majority-white population when Native Americans make up less than 2%. He too has felt apprehensive at times about speaking publicly on an issue that stirs up age-old racial tensions.

“This county is rural — cowboys and Indians,” says McCloud, 45. “It’s still that way. I’m concerned about what my kids are going to go through if it happens.”

“But if we don’t do it,” McCloud says, “we’re still going to be looked at as second-class citizens.”

(LA Times)

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BORDER WASHOUT

by Paul Modic

I roared out of town, cursing Texas traffic, after a night of revelry with Bonnie: smoking, drinking, singing, laughing, and storytelling on the porch at her cool place in the hills outside San Antonio. (When I first met her in Matehuala thirty-five years ago we had a big fight, but neither of us can remember what it was about, most likely my fault.)

When I got to the border 150 miles away they wouldn't let me take my truck in because my registration was the one from the year before. No amount of cajoling, persuading, begging, and outright bribery attempts would make the bank official change her mind. (No papers, no tortillas.)

I had messed up big-time: When I had been cleaning out the truck in Austin I had realized I only had last year's registration but figured they wouldn't notice or care at the border. (I should have immediately gotten the up-to-date title overnighted from Garberville.)

Being stuck at the border, there was nothing to do but turn around and drive back, but first I’d have to throw my stash in the garbage, a couple ounces of nice weed, before heading back into the U.S. (Damn, there had to be a better way, I just didn't want to lose those smoky dreams.)

I drove further into Mexico looking for a place to hide it, and hoping to find a big flat rock to put it under. I saw one by the side of the road, slowed to a stop, then looked across the road at the prison towers, hmm, better keep moving. A mile later I noticed a relatively flat rock and stopped.

After carrying the heavy rock into the brush, I got the double seal-a-mealed stash out of my truck where it was in the garbage bag covered with stinky compost: rotting banana slices, orange peels, coffee grounds, egg shells, and more. I wiped it clean so it wouldn’t attract animals.

The rock didn't completely cover the stash, I jammed some dead leaves into the gap, and will be pleasantly surprised it it's still there in a few days when I make another run to Mexico. Then there was nothing to do but drive back to San Antonio, they waved me back across the border with no search or concern.

What a washout: I was on the road twelve hours and ended up where I started, here at Bonnie's house the next day, out on the porch on a pleasant May morning, drinking my coffee with the wind blowing gently, birds singing, and waiting for my registration papers to arrive from California.

Three days later we were loaded and on the road, I drove us out of the city through the San Antonio dawn, and then handed the keys to Bonnie’s son Cactus. We breezed through the border and a mile inside Mexico I triumphantly found my flattened stash where I'd hidden it four days before.

A few minutes later the cops stopped us. Cactus got out and talked with them, I got fifty bucks ready, and he came back to the truck a few minutes later.

“They say we were speeding but it's bullshit,” he said. “They want 362.”

“Pesos?” I said.

“No. Dollars,” he said. “If we don't want to pay we can follow them downtown to the station.”

“Okay, let's do that,” I said, then thought about the weed in the back of the truck hidden in the garbage. I quickly decided to bargain and went over to the police car and offered them a hundred bucks. They countered with half the $362, so I reluctantly gave those assholes $181, and we were back on the road again.

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MORNIN’, SMARTYPLANTS!

This happy little guy lives in a ditch in Amador county, round about 2000’ above sea level. Hecka resinous and fragrant, as are so many of our wonderful natives. What should I call him? I’m leaning toward ‘Timmy’, but I’m open to suggestions.

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HOW TO ESCAPE A CAR UNDERWATER

A lot of people drowned simply because they didn't know:

If you find yourself underwater in a car, don't panic.

1. Dont waste your energy trying to push the door.
2. Do not open the window, the force of the water entering the car will not allow you to get out.
3. Take out the head rest.
4. Use the steel sharp tip and break the back window that has kick out glass on it. (I did not know this.)

The car by engineering and design is intended to float in the water and the rear window will always be facing the exit.

This could save your life.

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I ALWAYS DISLIKED pledging allegiance to the flag. It was so tedious and sillyass. I always felt more like pledging allegiance to myself, but there we were and we stood up and ran through it. Then, afterwards, the little pause, and everybody sitting down feeling as if they had been slightly molested.

— Charles Bukowski

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GI WITH A LOCAL GIRL on the hood of a halftrack in Chartres, France - August 1944 (LIFE Magazine Archives - Ralph Morse Photographer)

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“BIG-SHOT TOWN, small-shot town, jet-propelled old-fashioned town, by old-world hands with new-world tools built into a place whose heartbeat carries farther than its shout, whose whispering in the night sounds less hollow than its roistering noontime laugh: they have builded a heavy-shouldered laughter here who went to work too young.”

― Nelson Algren, ‘Chicago: City on the Make’

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AMERICA THE BETTER

Dear Editor,

Joe Biden’s convention speech showed him to be a decent, patriotic family man. It also exposed three incredible blind spots.

Biden once again said America is getting better rather than going downhill. He said, “Our best days are not behind us, they are before us.” This is transparently untrue. This kind of flattery of the electorate shows that Democrats are not above manipulating reality like MAGA Republicans do.

The President also said, “There is only one sacred obligation in America, taking care of veterans.” This betrays an ignorance of other sacred principles of democracy, including educating youth in history, law, and science; prioritizing public health measures to protect and honor the elderly, whose wisdom must be available to rising generations; and upholding our sacred oaths, agreements, vows, and contracts. Never heard of such principles? Better read some history before it is too late.

Finally, there is America’s puppet war against religious freedom in the Middle East, leading to the disproportionate slaughter of Muslims in Gaza. Biden’s decent heart takes a fatal nosedive here.

Kimball Shinkoskey

Woods Cross, Utah

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Tangier is Morocco. Always was Morocco. And recently the country’s leadership seems to have embraced it in all its ill-reputed glory. The days of predatory poets in search of literary inspiration and young flesh are probably over for good. Hippies can just as easily get their bong rips in Portland or Peoria. But the good stuff, the real good stuff, the sounds and smells and the look of Tangier – what you see and hear when you lean out the window and take it all in – that’s here to stay.

– Anthony Bourdain

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ON-LINE COMMENT OF THE DAY #2

OH, and I forgot… the “land of the free” is now the land of the woke, and the accompanying moral decay is not going to help America pull out of its nosedive. The (senseless) culture wars are a distraction that America really can’t afford–in my opinion. We should not be wasting time discussing how many genders, or whether drag queens can be reading books to 9-year olds at public libraries, while the house is on fire. Yet here we are…

1. Hard times make strong men. 2. Strong men make good times. 3. Good times lead to weak men. 4. Weak men lead to hard times.

Russia miraculously survived their implosion in the 1990s. Can America survive one?

Russia is at stage 1 to 2 today, and needs to be careful lest it reach stage 3.

The US is in stage 4.

Just one opinion here. And no, I’m not going to Russia. Just saying.

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HIGHLIGHTS FROM NIGHT 1 OF THE DEMOCRATIC CONVENTION

Speeches by President Biden and Hillary Clinton symbolized how Democrats are moving on from the old guard that has led their party for decades.

by Nicholas Nehamas

In a city where he was supposed to claim the mantle of the Democratic Party for the final time, at a convention where he was supposed to cement his political legacy, President Biden instead passed the torch of leadership, wiping away tears as the crowd rose to its feet in a sustained ovation and chanted, “Thank you, Joe.”

The outpouring of gratitude for his decision to step aside and make way for Vice President Kamala Harris seemed to encourage Mr. Biden as he claimed credit for saving democracy, and for much more, in a nearly hourlong speech filled with optimism and a fighting spirit that capped the first night of the Democratic National Convention in Chicago.

Yet one of the last major moments of Mr. Biden’s political career was pushed well out of prime time on the East Coast after other speakers ran long.

“America, I gave my best to you,” Mr. Biden said. “For 50 years, like many of you, I’ve given my heart and soul to our nation and I’ve been blessed, a million times in return, with the support of the American people.”

Mr. Biden’s speech, and another earlier in the night from Hillary Clinton — who came closer than any other American woman to winning the White House — symbolized how Democrats are moving on from the old guard that has led their party for decades. The convention’s opening night also served to emphasize the historic nature of Ms. Harris’s candidacy, and to frame her as riding on the shoulders of civil rights icons and women who had run for president before her, as she seeks to defeat former President Donald J. Trump.

Here are other highlights from the night:

A surprise appearance: Ms. Harris unexpectedly took the stage to thank Mr. Biden for his “lifetime of service to our nation.” Her appearance to the pounding rhythm of Beyoncé’s “Freedom” energized the crowd on a night when they had gathered to hear Mr. Biden say goodbye. “Let us fight for the ideals we hold dear, and let us always remember: When we fight, we win,” Ms. Harris told the delegates, who roared back those last five words, which have fast become a rallying cry for Democrats.

The glass ceiling: Mrs. Clinton told Democrats that the “future is here,” soon after Ms. Harris made her surprise appearance. “I wish my mother and Kamala’s mother could see us,” Mrs. Clinton said in an emotional address that had nearly every delegate on their feet. “They would say: ‘Keep going.’” She added: “This is our time, America. This is when we stand up. This is when we break through!”

A diverse roster: The opening night’s speakers highlighted the Democrats’ diversity as they celebrated Ms. Harris, the first Black woman and person of South Asian descent to lead a major-party ticket for president. Many were women who spanned the generations and included all races, an unmistakable nod to the glass ceiling Ms. Harris is seeking to break. Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York gave a spirited speech to a crowd that chanted her initials. Mayor Karen Bass of Los Angeles spoke of her decades-long relationship with Ms. Harris.

A focus on abortion rights: Three women — Amanda Zurawski, Kaitlyn Joshua and Hadley Duvall — shared emotional personal stories about abortion and the post-Roe v. Wade America that Mr. Trump’s appointees to the Supreme Court helped create in 2022. “A second Trump term would rip away even more of our rights,” said Ms. Zurawski, who nearly died in Texas after she was denied an abortion following a miscarriage. They were followed by Gov. Andy Beshear of Kentucky, who won his race in a red state in part by defending abortion rights. “All women should have the freedom to make their own decisions,” Mr. Beshear said, and praised the speakers for their courage.

And civil rights too: Jaime Harrison, who leads the Democratic National Committee, opened the convention noting that a “Black convention chair and a Black D.N.C. chair lead us in nominating a Black and A.A.P.I. woman to be the next president.” The Rev. Jesse Jackson Sr. was celebrated, appearing briefly onstage. And Senator Raphael Warnock of Georgia spoke of his elderly mother voting for him. “The 82-year-old hands that used to pick somebody else’s cotton and somebody else’s tobacco, picked her youngest son to be United States senator,” Mr. Warnock said.

Labor’s show of support: Shawn Fain, the president of the powerful United Automobile Workers union, was one of several speakers representing unions that have endorsed Ms. Harris and underscored her commitment to workers. He took the stage in prime time in a red T-shirt that bluntly proclaimed “Trump’s a scab.” In his remarks, Mr. Fain championed a working class at war against the “billionaires class” and “corporate greed.”

Attacking Trump, early and often: Speaker after speaker condemned Mr. Trump for his actions in and out of office. Gov. Kathy Hochul of New York raised his conviction on 34 felony counts in a Manhattan court. Representative Jasmine Crockett of Texas contrasted Ms. Harris’s career with Mr. Trump’s, saying that “she became a career prosecutor, while he became a career criminal.” Representative Jamie Raskin of Maryland recounted the Jan. 6, 2021, attack on the Capitol, calling Mr. Trump a “sore loser who does not know how to take no for an answer from American voters, American courts or American women.” And Representative Robert Garcia of California said that during the coronavirus pandemic Mr. Trump had “peddled conspiracy theories across the country” while hundreds of thousands of Americans had died.

From one coach to another: The Golden State Warriors coach Steve Kerr took the stage to praise Ms. Harris fresh from leading the U.S. men’s basketball team to an Olympic gold medal in Paris. “Leadership, real leadership,” Mr. Kerr said, is “not the kind that seeks to divide us, but the kind that recognizes and celebrates our common purpose.” He also praised Ms. Harris’s running mate, Gov. Tim Walz of Minnesota, a one-time high school football coach. “Coach to coach, that guy’s awesome,” Mr. Kerr said.

(NY Times)

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THE DNC'S SINISTER REBRAND OF “FREEDOM”

"Freedom from" was right up there with "joy" and "unity" as key themes of last night's Blue Party Grammy Awards. Unfortunately, it wasn't funny

by Matt Taibbi

Hillary Clinton, speaking at the Democratic Convention last night, said Democrats had “put a lot of cracks in the highest, hardest glass ceiling”:

I want to tell you what I see through all those cracks, I see freedom. I see the freedom to make our own decisions about our health, our lives, our loves, our families, the freedom to work with dignity and prosper, to worship as we choose or not, to speak our minds freely and honestly. I see freedom from fear and intimidation, from violence and injustice, from chaos and corruption. I see the freedom to look our children in the eye and say, “In America, you can go as far as your hard work and talent will take you” and mean it.

Get ready for the new “Freedom Frame,” an argument for massive expansion of federal authority, disguised as a celebration of rights…

https://www.racket.news/p/the-dncs-sinister-rebrand-of-freedom

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THE OBAMAS AND AWKWARD DATING STORIES: Takeaways From the Democratic Convention

On Day 2, Barack and Michelle Obama electrified the crowd, while Doug Emhoff, husband of Vice President Kamala Harris, shared stories of their early romance.

by Jim Rutenberg

Democrats turned to their most charismatic leaders and shifted toward the future on Tuesday, as former President Barack Obama and Michelle Obama, the former first lady, made the case that their party’s ticket represented the best of American values.

While Vice President Kamala Harris and her running mate, Tim Walz, appeared at a rally in Milwaukee, convention goers completed a raucous roll call of the states as they crowded the floor of the United Center in Chicago. With President Biden off the stage and vacationing in California, an upbeat energy seemed to take over the events.

Here are some of the highlights from the convention’s second night:

The Obamas showed they still have singular star power.

The Democrats have their stars, new and old — Gretchen Whitmer and Bernie Sanders, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Andy Beshear, Bill and Hillary Clinton.

But on Tuesday, the Obamas proved once again that they can ignite the party like no one else. The crowd gathered in Chicago has shown renewed excitement since the convention began, but nothing brought the fire that their back-to-back speeches did.

Of course, the history-making path that Mr. Obama made to the White House some 16 years ago had special resonance at a celebration for the first Black woman to clinch a major-party nomination in American history.

But they also demonstrated that they are unparalleled speakers — the former first lady as much as her husband, giving a master class in the art of taking down an opponent without taking down oneself in the act.

The speakers used humor against Donald Trump.

The Obamas did it with a smile and a twisting knife, signaling to fellow party members that humor may be the most effective weapon to undermine an opponent who has so frequently bedeviled them.

Mr. Obama grew especially animated as he described some of Donald J. Trump’s more outlandish behavior.

“There’s childish nicknames, the crazy conspiracy theories — this weird obsession with crowd sizes,” the former president said, arching his eyebrows and making a suggestive gesture with his hands. The crowd broke into sustained laughter and applause.

Warning voters against choosing “another four years of bluster and bumbling and chaos,” Mr. Obama, looking particularly pleased with himself, said, “We’ve seen this movie before and we all know the sequel is usually worse.”

Turning one of Mr. Trump’s recent references to “Black jobs” against him, Ms. Obama said, “Who’s going to tell him that the job he’s currently seeking might just be one of those ‘Black jobs’?”

Michelle Obama offered a searing assessment of Mr. Trump’s hostility toward her family.

This time, she went there.

In her remarks Ms. Obama spoke in unusually frank and visceral terms about the lies Mr. Trump has told about her husband’s background, and what she said was his deep discomfort with the Obamas’ place in the world.

“For years, Donald Trump did everything in his power to try to make people fear us,” she said. “His limited, narrow view of the world made him feel threatened by the existence of two hard-working, highly educated, successful people who happen to be Black.”

Addressing the diverse convention crowd, she accused Mr. Trump of using “ugly, misogynistic, racist lies as a substitute for real ideas and solutions that will actually make people’s lives better.”

The remarks, notable because Mrs. Obama has always advised taking the high road, reflected what both Obamas have said was an anguishing experience of being on the receiving end of Mr. Trump’s “birther” attacks.

The message also seemed intended to remind Black voters, with whom Mr. Trump has made inroads this year, of his treatment of the first Black couple to occupy the White House.

And they were meant to serve as a warning of what might befall Ms. Harris. “Unfortunately,” Ms. Obama said, “we know what comes next, we know folks are going to do everything they can to distort her truth.”

In a first, the traditional first lady’s speech was given by a would-be first gentleman.

Mr. Emhoff gave a first glimpse at what would be another historic first that a Harris presidency would bring — the arrival to the East Wing of the first first gentleman. For centuries, wives of candidates have testified to their spouses’ personal qualities, offering the requisite humanizing anecdotes to soften their image.

This time it was Mr. Emhoff who did the sharing, which included the gushing story of his perhaps over-excited pursuit of Ms. Harris, with whom he was set up a decade ago.

“Now, for generations, people have debated when to call the person you are being set up with,” Mr. Emhoff said, smiling. “And never in history has anyone suggested 8:30 a.m. And yet, that is when I dialed.”

He told of a rambling message he left on Ms. Harris’s voice mail, in which he repeated his own name several times.

“I was trying to grab the words out of the air and just put them back in my mouth,” he said. “For what seemed like far too many minutes, I hung up.”

Mr. Emhoff expressed his love for his wife, but also used his speech to beat back Republican efforts to tar Democrats with the antisemitism that has crept into anti-Israel demonstrations by sharing his own Jewish heritage, and Ms. Harris’s encouragement for him to use his national perch to fight antisemitism.

It’s no longer Joe Biden’s party.

A day after President Biden gave his farewell address, and the crowd shouted “We Love Joe,’’ it was clear that the party was finally moving on without him.

Mr. Obama was certain to shower his former vice president with praise. “I am proud to call him my president, but even prouder to call him my friend,” he said. But in the next breath, he said, “Now the torch has been passed.”

And when Mr. Obama highlighted “all the incredible energy we’ve been able to generate over the last few weeks,” there was no mistaking what unleashed that energy in the first place: Mr. Biden’s decision to leave the race.

A decade of bruising combat with Mr. Trump appears to have rid the party of sentimentality, and sharpened its determination to win, despite the sometimes brutal fallout.

(nytimes.com)

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