Greenwood/Elk columns

January 4 ~ March 29, 1990

January 4th,

Ron is on vacation in Baja.

Wish list for the New Decade.

by guest columnist Mary Pjerrou.

(It's mostly an ornery list of "no mores" and "don't wants", but, heck, the 80's have been a downright ornery era...)

1. No more 'wars on' anything ("war on drugs,' 'war on poverty'...) (War doesn't work.)

2. No more narc/buddy movies.

3. No more lying garbage about busted county, state and federal government budgets, so long as government officials keep raising their own salaries and three trillion is going for "defense,"

4. No more right-wing political columnists saying: a) Gorby's in deep shit; or b) the only reason he's doing it is economic.

5. Foreign dignitaries coming to Washington, DC, to have their pix taken with President Bush, have to have a drug test first.

6. Someone really good to vote for in the 1992 Presidential election.

7. Democracy in China.

8. Democracy in Albania.

9. Democracy in the Vatican.

10. Solar cars.

11. Traffic bumps in Elk.

12. Federal tax forms by which citizens dictate how their money is spent (i.e. Military?. Government salaries? Education? Housing? CIA? etc.? Check three.

13. Maximum wage law.

14. "Golden parachutes" for poets, artists and nursery school teachers.

15. Barbara Bush on the Supreme Court.

16. Rest areas with free lemonade every five miles of every freeway.

17. Ronald Reagan in prison denims.

18. Zsa Zsa Gabor on the Supreme Court.

19. Exxon nationalized.

20. L.P. statized.

21. The New York literary Establishment nationalized.

22. More trains.

23. USDA surplus brown rice smoked tofu give-away.

24. Foreign aid from Germany and Japan to the US.

25. Summer and Winter Solstices recognized as national holidays.

26. Three trillion dollar appropriation by Congress for government buy-up (at irresistible cash-in prices) of all firearms; mass melt down of firearms (including police and military \tab firearms) to make metal for solar cars and lemonade stands on freeways.

27. Freedom of religion in Iran.

28. Starhawk on the Supreme Court.

29. Jacques Tati on the Supreme Court. (Nope, he's French. Too bad.)

30. End to all unconstitutional practices such as compulsory education, taxation without representation (you think the last national election was representational?), compulsory drug testing for employment, invasion of foreign lands by Presidential fiat, compulsory insurance, and confiscation of property for crimes other than thievery and tax evasion.

31. Peg Frankel on the Supreme Court. (That's five. [Can you think of four more people you really trust (or are truly entertained by?)]) (Send nominees to Ron Bloomquist at this newspaper.)

32. No more logging trucks going by my front door.

33. My 80 - year - old mother making it to 90 (turn of the century---2000 A.D.

34. "COZ" the movie.

Now is that asking too much?

Vince Carleton says you have to eat fish or other sea products first thing on January 1, for good luck. (Sorry to bring the news too late.) (He didn't say if it applied to the whole decade.) Other in-put from Elk on 1990, etc.:

Mary Anthony recommends praying to the Frog Goddess for relief from the drought. (Elk and coastal environs have been uncannily warm and pleasant this winter season.) Bill Baker, who returned to Elk for the New Year's bash at the Carleton's (he now lives in Ukiah) says Frog Woman goes back to the Pomo Indians who inhabited this once storm-tossed coast before the white rabble showed up. Seems good advice for white rabble to now solicit Frog Woman--- and quick.

January 11th.

(Dedicated to Ron Bloomquist, basking in Baja with Lolli, "Tecate in hand, slab of goat meat on the barbe.")

by Louis Martin

Long nights, short days, the nip and bite of a cold harassing wind, and apparently some people find the best solution is to snuggle.

Stopped by the Elk Post Office the other day and found out the White Rose of Texas--Laurie Graham is pregnant. It's true; sweet, innocent--looking Laurie is pregnant. I felt just a little shocked.

"So how you feeling?" I asked awkwardly.

"Wonderful," she beamed, looking like an advertisement in a mail order catalog for a patent medicine called Pregnancy.

Wondering if I could get myself some of that medicine and just what the heck I'd do with it if I did, I wandered down to the Elk Store to get a quart of milk and a newspaper.

It was quiet in the Market; it was a touristless Tuesday on which no voice was heard to demand, "How far is it to Mendocino?"

Now I'm a pretty dumb and insensitive male but I couldn't help notice Kerry Hurd slouched in back of the cash register between the big pickle jar and the peanut butter. She looked deep in thought, like a person hatching, well, maybe ideas.

It was a cold day, though no wind was blowing, but with glinting, hopeful eye I asked anyway, "You cold, honey?"

"Yeah," she said from a great distance, then added more in the present, and I'm pregnant."

Surprised and shocked, I pulled myself together and asked the only question I seemed capable of that day: "How you feeling?"

"Wonderful," she beamed, now standing up and stretching like a cat, and suddenly looking like an advertisement in a mail order catalog for you know what.

I left the market feeling lonely--you see, my heat has been coming from a wood stove lately--and I began to wonder, as only the sad and lonely can do: how many people in this little town of ours were expecting company they were carrying around inside of them right now; company that was arriving in nine months and wouldn't be leaving any too soon, and when it did leave, might demand money to go to college--you know, difficult company. The sign on the road into town said Elk--population 250. Assuming there were one hundred and twenty-five females in Elk, just how many of 'em could be pregnant? So far everyone I had met that day was. Was it possible that all Elk was pregnant?

The curiosity of the lonely took over my life. Upon a little delicate investigation, I found out that not only Laurie and Kerry were pregnant, but that at least four other Elk women were pregnant as well. I was astounded: apparently our little town did have a future population other than tourists arriving in BMW's, Porches, and Mercedes, and it was sloshing around right now in the bellies of six Elk women.

Now in case you're a sad and curious type like me, you might want to know: in addition to Laurie and Kerry, we have the following among the ranks of the Proud and Pregnant of Elk: Reeby Arndt, Rhonda Poehlmann, Jane Lewis and Anne Lawrence.

Hats off, mufflers down, or some other article of clothing removed, to these brave and daring women who did their part to help keep Elk aglow on those cold and dreary evenings, and perhaps mornings, when the wind blows hard and some less hardy members of our community desert to warmer climes.

But not everyone is pregnant in Elk. Not by a long shot. Never the less, Post Mistress Erna Smith is leaving us for a while.

Apparently Elk does not provide the level of danger that women seek these days, so she's off to adventure and romance in Africa for three weeks. If you want your mail, you had better get it now because out in the bush being chased by tigers and lions and riding on the backs of elephants and camels and hunkering down at the watering holes of huge hippos and rhinos and other beasts--to get those candid shots she's become so locally famous for--she's going to be pretty well tied up; the mail will be about the last thing on her mind.

She departs for this daring adventure February 8th and won't be seen again--if at all-- till early March.

She's booked this adventure with a US. group called Luxure Adventure Safaris, which has subcontracted the deadly details to an African firm with the name of appropriate funeral tone: Abercrombie and Kent.

But in fact one safari did not seem sufficiently dangerous to our Post Mistress (perhaps she is making up for lost time); she is in fact going on two with a three day "layover" in Nairobi.

Asked if she felt any fear in embarking on such a daring adventure, she gave me that cold, hard look characteristic of so many Elk women these days.

Absolutely not", she shot back with the bully look of a female Teddy Roosevelt. I felt embarrassed for asking such a typically mousy, male question.

And by the way, it's strictly a photo adventure--no shooting with guns. Not that she wouldn't like to, I think. But cameras are so much more daring, or as Erna herself put it, "Only whimps need guns." And as some have noticed, Erna has purchased a new zoom-telephoto lens for the expedition. It looks like something that terrorists use to shoot down US. Helicopters in the jungle; it's huge, has its own carrying case with padded shoulder straps, I think, and has been known to start wildfires when the sun hits it at the wrong angle.

Good luck to this daring woman.

In other news, Venerable Mel Matson took a fall the other day, with the inevitable result that he has garnered even greater female attention. In fact, I'm not sure that dapper old Mel maybe didn't stage this little event. You see, after that stroke, Mel became a precious commodity that local ladies just can't seem to get enough of. Mel--carrier of Elk's myths and legends from the days when loggers outnumbered tourists and trees outnumbered loggers--is frequently seen dining in the presence of four or more local ladies--good wife included, of course--at the Roadhouse. What the hey, as columnist Bloomquist likes to say, I may try this myself; I could use a little attention too.

According to some sources, the "fall", if it was genuine (which I personally doubt), occurred this way:

Mel was shuffling down the street from the Post Office toward the garage--you know, that sexy male shuffle that some of these older guys have learned where you barely pick up your feet--highly efficient and it makes you look a little like Christ walking on water. Well, apparently Mel overdid it, or under did it, as the case may be, one foot lifted hardly at all right at the point where the road is minutely ruffled. Over or down Mel went.

Gashed the palm of a hand, I can vouch for that; Mel showed me, though I wish he hadn't. Also skinned a knee, hole right through a good-looking pair of pea-green trousers. Looked like some poor kid who'd fallen off his bicycle.

But don't worry. There were angels on hand. Female angels. And Mel is probably basking in their sunshine right now down at the cafe recounting the whole painful ordeal to them over bacon and eggs.

I went back later to see if I could find the bump in the road. Bumps were about all I could find. I have a little theory: I found a small smooth spot in the road, and I think that is what got Mel. At a certain age, you know, one expects problems, obstacles, and when they don't occur, fear sets in that throws one off balance. I think we need a road crew to come in and make that road safe, knock off all those smooth spots.

Anyway, I am now practicing the old timers' shuffle on the sly; I've already mastered falling down. So with any Luck I, too, may find all the adventure and romance I need right between the Post Office and the Elk Market. I sure hope so, 'cause there's more cold weather ahead.

January 18th.

Whoa! Looks like I better wrest control of this column back from the troika of guest writers I scrounged up to cover for me whilst Lolli and I traveled the back roads of Baja. Things are getting out of hand. Pregnant ladies of Elk, indeed! Thanks anyway, Gerry, for your end of the year column and to Mary and Lewis for starting off this one.

So...What's happening in good ol' Greenwood/Elk?

I noticed a new building, on the Acker property, in the heart of our little city. Well, actually a recycled building. It used to live over on the Keene property. Before that, it resided near the Mill Office/Post Office. Come to find out it was originally built by Donny Daniels father; it and several other buildings just like it. This one used to house the Elk Firetruck. The other remaining structure resides behind the Community Center building as a repository for Elk Water District maintenance equipment and supplies.

In the Elk Store I noticed a note lying in the bottom of my drop box:

Re: The Christmas Food and Toy Giveaway.

"It was a big success! Thanks goes out to the following people: Mary P. Cary G. Sandy W. Lewis M. The Elk Country Store, Gallery Bookstore and the entire community for making donations. Without them the giveaway would not have been possible."

Thanks. Krystal.

On the Elk Store door I noticed a letter announcing that the practice of extending credit to customers will come to and end January 1st. Many of us have enjoyed the ability to just say 'charge it'. No more. The store is going through hard times and is calling in its markers. This is a step in the right direction but, I think, too little, too late.

I hear that Peter Allegaert's show at the Charles Campbell Gallery was a huge success. Last time Peter had a show there, everything was sold out during the course of the show. This time, I understand, everything sold out the first day! Actually during the first few hours!!. Twenty one paintings plus some drawings. Fantastic! And yet I know, from talking to Peter, the shock of such sales adds a twist to his lifework/love that he doesn't enjoy; the push to do more and show more often, etc. etc. Definitely not the place Peter wants to draw his inspiration from. Like I always say; "It ain't easy to be famous."

We all love you anyway Peter.

What else?

Rain! Can you believe it. The stuff just keeps coming. Green! Our world just keeps getting greener. Light! The days keep getting longer, well, not much yet, but the ball is rolling. Believe me.

I stopped by the Roadhouse the other evening. Hey you folks are missing out on something. Karen Mathis is doing a variety of ethnic dinners. Next week, Friday and Saturday from 6:00 PM on, will be Greek. Dolmas, Spanikopita, Baklava for dessert!

Baja?

Our vacation in Baja? Well, let's see. Pretty exciting. I left the ignition switch on one night and woke up to a dead battery. One evening I accidentally ran over my Coleman stove... I replaced the clutch using the spare tire as a floor jack, but the high point was getting stuck in Laguna Salda, an immense 'dry lake'. We named it 'Camp Despair'! We got ourselves out and back on the road in only 16 hours! The most amazing part being Lolli still speaks to me.

What a great sport and traveling companion she is. Of course, it was all her fault. I would see some minuscule road leading off into the wilderness, express some interest and she would say, "Why not!".

For instance, "The Terrible Threes", the most fearsome road in all of Baja. Eighty four miles of bad road starting with three grades between 18 and 32 percent. I expressed interest in giving it a try and even though the clutch was starting to slip and the locals were talking about a storm coming. With the sky turning black, flashes of lightning in the mountains and the rain starting to patter on the windshield, off we went.

Two days later, eighty four miles in first and second gear, we finally arrived at MEX 1, the 'highway' at the other end.

The glove box rattled loose along with a cupboard door and the supports for the bed. I had to add bracing to the kayak racks, but we made it. Vacation is intended to get your thoughts off the routine at home. Believe me; not only were our thoughts far from home, there were times we didn't think we would see home again. A REAL vacation! It's nice to be home.

January 25th.

"There wasn't any 'wilderness' until the white man showed up."

I heard that statement, made by a Native American, during a Tee Vee documentary about the Hetch Hetchy dam the other night. I find that to be very though provoking. What else do we consider wilderness? Just because we don't know about it, is it really wilderness, or is it something that has been getting along just fine before we come along to discover, explain and exploit?

And then, I got to thinking, what a strange group of humans we are; with our own little bitty human brains, we are trying to figure out what it all means and where we are all going and why we are here.

We decide that gravity works this way and that light travels that fast and so on and then assume that is the way it is out there in the 'wilderness'. How can we say nothing travels faster than the speed of light, nothing is bigger than the universe, smaller than a right spin Z quark or whatever. The sand on the beach is not infinite. The stars in the sky are not infinite but because they are beyond our counting, they are wilderness. Ha!

How much more comforting it is to consider the big problems, closer to hand.

"Is it art or is it a sign?"

Now that is something we can get our teeth into. To me, I think it is wonderful. When I have to go to Mendocino; when I see Richard Yasky's sculpture beside highway One; it reminds me that the wilderness ends here and Art starts there. HA!

Maybe it's the paint fumes. I have been painting a log truck all week.

My editor handed me a letter, sent care of the Mendocino Beacon, from someone living in Philadelphia. It seems they subscribe to the Beacon, way out there in the wilderness. They said for me to not worry about Greenwood/Elk being discovered. It already was and they included a clipping from their own local newspaper written by Zeke Wigglesworth of the Knight Ridder News Service:

"Elk, between Mendocino and Point Arena, is so small you could miss it if you sneeze. But it has a couple of B&B's, a restaurant and some very nice scenery. It's a good place to stop for a picnic, but the public beach is rocky, very small and hard to get to, down a steep trail."

Right on Zeke, but you forgot to mention the poison oak!

Gary Moran turns forty this week. I saw Gary grinding away on his mountain bike, up Greenwood/Philo road the other day.

Give it up Gary, it's all downhill from here on out.

Our local fishing ace, Mark Daniels, says the steelhead are far and few between. He caught one female, which got away and one male which he released, while covering five miles of Greenwood Creek.

This Friday and Saturday the Roadhouse Cafe will continue it's ethnic food-journey by moving from Greece to Denmark.

Well, I have to wrap this up early.

I'm about to head over the hill and join my friend Eduardo at KZYX for his 'Radio-Rad-io' program, Sunday afternoons, 3 until 5. I'm going to be his engineer or something. Mostly I want to see what it is like behind the scene. Eduardo and I have had some wonderful conversations in the past but with a mike stuck in my face I expect I will clam up like a church mouse. Too bad. All of a sudden I have nothing to say. Out there, beyond that mike is a vast wilderness.

February 1st.

I did join Eduardo over in Philo for his KZYX Radio Rad-io program last Sunday. (Pronounced, "Radio - Rah-Dee-O.) If you listened hard you heard me twice, once, a half hour into the program saying, "Hi Mom", and again at the end of the program saying "Bye Mom". That's it.

Actually I did a lot more than that, you just couldn't hear it; Queuing records, sorting through the record stacks, writing down what had been played, helping keep things straight and so on. The two hours flew bye. It is a whole lot different being in the studio than sitting at home listening. For one thing, I didn't have time to really listen to the music. Quite strange. The listening audience gets the best part of the deal.

I've often thought about that. Six years ago several folks, through their desire for better radio, decided to build a radio station. Now that they have it, they are so busy making it go, they hardly have time to listen. Heck of a deal!

Not much going on in our little town. I noticed Mel and Jane Matson having Ramone and Son remove a couple of trees that were threatening their house. Two Bull Pines over sixty feet tall. Jane said they planted those trees thirty seven years ago.

Bob Matson was involved in retrieving a late model Chrysler that had gone off the cliff and into the surf, two hundred and fifty feet later, down around Schooner Gulch. The car had been stolen from Point Arena. No evidence of survivors found. Then, a few days later some folks from Santa Rosa rolled their motor home down by Galletti's Ranch. Bob got to try out the new wheel lift on his flatbed truck which he built up especially for hauling large motor homes and trucks; his regular tow truck was too small for the larger wrecks which happen all too frequently around here.

Lolli and I dinned out in Denmark last Friday night at the Roadhouse Cafe. Karen Mathis, the cook, told us that next weekend the Roadhouse visits Italy. Just think of all the money you could save, Erna, if you just hung around and waited for the Roadhouse Cafe to reach Africa, instead of flying off on some dumb safari!

I understand we will reach Russia in a few more weeks.

Rummage Sale. Can you believe it. Barbara McKnight left a note in my drop box telling me that it is approaching that time of year again. Wow! Like the frog said,

"Time's fun when you're having flies!"

Anyhow, time to start spring cleaning and box up that stuff in the back of the closet. Rummage Sale time is approaching.

I bought Edward Abbey's latest and last book, "Hayduke Lives". (Edward Abbey died last March.) I read it in one long sitting. I love that guy, sexist and malcontent to the very end. A lonely stance to take in these 'modern' times. It is his fault I live in Greenwood/Elk. There I was in L.A., involved in building the Stealth Bomber during the day and reading Abbey at night. A serious moral conflict of interest. Something had to give. Thanks Abbey.

February 8th.

Well, we have definitely been getting some weather. Wind, rain, high seas, frost, hail, sunshine, moon and clouds. One after the other in rapid change. Early last week huge waves rolling in from the northwest were crashing into Gunderson Rock, just out from Greenwood Beach, and ramming into and up the chimney, around on the back side; spectacular clouds of spray, shooting high into the air, like a volcano belching smoke.

The next afternoon I went down the cliff, behind the post Office, with Andy Taylor, Steve Sinclair and Steve's son Lloyd, to watch Steve and Andy ride their surf skis in the 'break' to the North of Casket Rock. After a while I got distracted by some artifacts imbedded in the sand below 'Lil Foo Gulch'.

There, rusting away, were flanged iron railroad wheels and a few large bevel gears, obviously left over from the logging days. Over my head was the former route of the railroad spur that stretched from Lil Foo Gulch out to Casket Rock, long gone except for a cut into the cliff and a few rotting pilings. At my feet, the remains of an engine? Why else the gears?

Soon another squall arrived driving Lloyd, my dog and I back up the cliff soon to be followed by Steve and Andy who had gotten some exciting rides.

This Friday and Saturday night the Roadhouse Cafe journeys to Russia. If you time things right you can be back in time to head over to the Greenwood Pier for John Gilmore's jazz piano and dessert, right here in Elk.

At the Post Office, Al Bolton invited me up to his place on Greenwood road to view his wife's ceramic mural that got tossed out of Daly's Local Art Show, up in Fort Bragg.

"Well, sure, I'll stop by sometime."

I wandered off to work and was just getting started when the power went out. While waiting for the power to return I decided I might as well go on over to Boltons and see what had caused such a ruckus.

I arrived just as Al and Judy were setting up their Coleman stove to heat some coffee, their power was out too. We sat out on the picnic table in the current batch of sunshine. They talked about the mural and I half listened; really I was rather apprehensive about the whole thing; abortion and art and censorship and controversy, not my strong suit when it comes to column writing.

We had our coffee and some cold fried chicken left over from the Superbowl game, talked about Nebraska; Judy's origins are back there too, and finally the time came to head off to the studio and observe the crime.

Well, there it was, lying on the floor. Two hundred pounds of clay fashioned into a mural of tiles which at first glance looked like Ken and Barbie, a couple of 'power suited yups', standing side by side with various religious symbols hovering in the sky behind them. In the foreground a grouping of block letters proclaimed "Dr. Goodman's office is now open Saturdays"..., something to that effect. Closer inspection revealed that 'Ken' has a bloody knife in his hand and that 'Barbie' has part of her side cut open. Other than that, they looked like model citizens, just standing there, looking out at us.

"Well, ah, why the name Goodman?"

"Well, it's an example of how we say one thing and mean something else, like 'Peacekeeper' missile."

We left the studio and went back to the picnic table for some more coffee and donuts. The power came back on, I thanked Al and Judy and returned to work.

I've thought about that mural a lot since them. How innocent the Ken and Barbie figures looked. How ominous the religious symbols behind their backs. What a strong statement for a woman raised in 1940 Nebraska. What a shame the board of directors, reviewing committee, what-ever, chickened out and didn't let this artistic statement be shown and let the chips fall where they may. I didn't care for it. Who would? But pro or con, I haven't stopped thinking about it. Isn't that part of what Art is all about?

February 15th.

I stand corrected. I was in the Elk Store the other day when some guy comes up to me and says; "You write the Greenwood/Elk column?"

"Yep."

"Well, you're wrong. The track out to Casket Rock didn't go down Lil Foo Gulch. That route didn't amount to anything. The working track went down the South side of the point behind what is now the Post Office and then out to Wharf Rock and then on to Casket Rock. Those wheels and gears you saw in the sand was stuff dumped over the edge when the roundhouse was demolished, not an engine, and the Mill in Greenwood/Elk was the only one on the coast that didn't catch fire and burn. The only time it burned was during a salvage operation to get out the scrap metal after it closed down. Also the ship Alcatraz didn't hit Mile Rock or what some call Nose Rock. It hit a submerged rock straight out from Beacon's property."

"What's your name?"

"My name is John Ross. My Grandfather operated the mill and was in partnership with Daniels."

And then there is Mel Matson.

"You said in your column I was having Bull Pine cut down on my property. It is not Bull Pine, it's Bishop Pine or Monterey Pine."

I picked up a cone and showed Mel the little thorns, which to me means Bull Pine, Monterey Pine cones are smooth.

"No, it's Bishop Pine."

Later Mel tells me he talked to Everett Liljeburg. Everett said that Bishop and Bull Pine are the same thing.

"Ah ha. I'm right, Mel, it is Bull Pine!"

"No. It's Bishop Pine."

"!#$%&%#.!"

I went off to Sari Clarks for a massage.

Sari and Trisha Cochrane are starting a massage practice that is unique. They both work on you at the same time.

I love head rubs and I love foot massage, but wait until you get both at the same time. Definitely takes your mind off Lil Foo Gulch and the Bishop Pine controversy.

March 5th will be our annual town meeting, including the election of new officers to the Community Center Board. So, if you can possibly be out of town, that will be the time to skedaddle.

Seriously folks. This meeting will be the time to hear what's happening about the formation of the Community Services District. What is going on with the Water Board. How the Volunteer Fire Department and Ambulance service is doing and how the past year turned out for our Community Center.

There are a fair amount of new folks in our area and this is a great opportunity to invite them to meet and be met. Don't be shy. Encourage them to take a shot at being on the upcoming Community Center Board, important items are on the horizon. For instance, the proposed addition to the Community Center.

Roadhouse Cafe Russian Dinner, Saturday night, turned out to be quite authentic. Towards the end of the evening all that was left was bread and water! Sold out! Even the desserts!

Next week...South Western style Mid-winter Barbecue. Yumm.

And now, some important questions;

1. What makes Teflon stick to the pan?

2. Have you ever looked up the Latin name for the Robin?

February 22nd.

It has been difficult trying to paint cars this past week. The temperature in my shop, up at Parker Mills, has hovered between 34 and 40 degrees. The paint seems to stick all right but I have a hard time doing the same. Much easier to call it a day and head for home and the heater.

And then the snow came. Only a few flakes in Greenwood/Elk, as usual, but up in the hills I saw two to three inches on the road. Several small trees came down on the Greenwood/Philo road blocking half the road here and there. I made a run over to Philo and had to weave between the downed trees. Several hours later I returned and most of the trees had been cut up and removed. That is what happens when you live in a area where almost every pick-up has a chain saw in the back.

I saw Steve Acker walking through town carrying a six inch flange. I asked him what's up? He said it was for the new water tank. I asked him how it was going. He said the roof panels are now on. They have the roof vent to put on but will do that after they finish some more sandblasting of the bolts on the inside and apply the final interior paint. It's getting closer.

Ken and Donna Call, living up at Parker Mills, have a new baby girl, Christine, born Valentine Day. A real Valentine present. Congratulations to first time parents.

A note from Leah Almanrode:

The Greenwood Civic Club will be holding their annual rummage sale on March 31st and April 1st, April Fools Day, at the Community Center. Clean your household discards out and bring to the center the Friday before or contact the club for pickup. Proceeds go to the Elk Volunteer Fire Department and Ambulance. Leah's number is 877-3517. Let's see, Rummage Sale, April Fools Day. Should be some possibilities there!!

Mary Anthony pointed out to me that it is "Li Foo Gulch, not "Lil" Foo Gulch.

I know that. It was a test!

Here are some more tests.

Q. When is the town meeting?

A. The town meeting is March 5th at the Community Center.

Q. How much did the Voyager mission to Saturn cost?

A. Less than eight days of the Viet Nam war.

Q. How much did North America spend on soft drinks, 1989?

A. 43 billion.

Q. Where will the Roadhouse Cafe be this weekend?

A. France.

Q. What is the name of Gary Moran and Jane Corey's dog.

A. Sam.

Q. How many more words until the end of this column?

A. One.

March 1st.

Mary Berry caught up with me in the Elk Store and handed me this note.

"Reminder: Mark your calendar for March 17th, 1990 for the 97th Annual Saint Patrick's Dinner and Dance, held at the Greenwood/Elk Community Center. Sponsored by the Elk Altar Society. there will be the traditional corned beef and cabbage, dancing to the music of Word of Mouth, raffle, auction and fun. Come and join us. All proceeds will go to the up-keep of the historic Blessed Sacrament Church."

Ah yes. The corned beef and cabbage feed. That reminds me of something I proposed last year when I was on my Lousia street kick and talked to Genia Falleri Urbani. Here is a repeat of that conversation.

"Genia remembers the road and the railroad track but she does not remember it ever being called Louisa Street!! She does remember that Conway's Grocery Store was where Thompsen's house now stands, just south of...dare I say it?...Lousia Street.

"Next there was a jewelry store, then the (Finn) Stolpe Hotel, then the Tascano Hotel (the red building we currently call the Abalone House that Minnie Baier said was owned by Afredo Falleri), then the Buchanan two story house which had a restaurant and bar down stairs, then Ruben's Grocery Store and Bar, next to that was Sanini's place (they're buried up in the Druid Cemetery), then a big barn with cows and horses on the ground floor and then the Bocci court." What? "You know, that game with the sticks. They tore that out when they widened Boonville Avenue (now called the Greenwood/Philo Road). Then across the street was the Rossetti Hotel, Italia Hotel (big barn back behind), where Anne Daniel's place is. Oh yes, this is back around the first war. A thousand people lived in town then."

Did you make it to the Saint Patrick's Corned Beef and Cabbage Feed?

"No. I wasn't feeling well. Hardly any of us left. We used to come from all over. I was born in 1908, you know. Why don't you call Emma Phillips. She knows a lot about Greenwood. I always call it Greenwood."

Well, there you have it. My conversation with Genia.

I ended that column with a proposal that next time we make a point of escorting these various old-timers to the corned beef and cabbage feed and recording or video taping their recollections.

I still wonder if it is possible, maybe setting up a special guest table. I'd be willing to take notes and maybe get Mr. Huckaby and Lewis Martin to help get it down accurately, the results compiled and passed on to the Civic Club and highlights put in following columns. It could be fun.

In the meantime, this weekend, Friday and Saturday night, the Roadhouse Cafe will be in Germany. Rosie Acker will be assisting to add to the authenticity.

And Monday, March 5th 7:30 PM, the Annual Town meeting at the Community Center. See you there.

March 8th.

Happy Anniversary to me! Happy anniversary to me! Three years of pounding the beat. Trying to think up some way of filling up this corner of the Mendocino Beacon.

Actually, as I've mentioned before, this is a live and let live kind of town, and I guess that pretty much sums up my writing style. I was informed that some woman wanted me to come give a talk to some writing class she's teaching.

I won't, of course, but it did cause me to think about my secret to writing. I think my main ingredient is putting it off until the last moment. That, and having a good proof reader with a sense of humor.

So onward.

Yesterday afternoon, last Friday by now, I happened to catch Wayne Walker putting the finishing touches on a Black Cherry Chocolate torte in the behind the scene workings of the Roadhouse Cafe. He squeezed some frosting into the pitted interior of a black cherry and handed it to me. Awesome! I was hooked.

Later in the evening, I went back to the Roadhouse and dutifully worked my way through the salad, weinerschnitzel, creamed potatoes and a cooked carrot/pea combo, just so I could nonchalantly order up a serving of that devastating torte, without appearing too crazed in my craving.

Pure Heaven! Savoring my way through the various layers I would suddenly bite into another sliced, marinated black cherry surrounded in moist chocolate cake and frosting.

I don't know how much that slice of dessert cost. I purposely tossed out a twenty, received my change, quickly stuffed it into my pocket, uncounted, and got out of there. Some things I don't want to know.

I have been listening to the Miller/Hawkins Show on KZYX Thursday mornings. He has a zany program filled with made up advertisements and personalities. Lots of fun. Something you either love or hate.

Anyway, during the previous week, it seems that Miller/Hawkins said something controversial and a contract was put out on him by various fictional characters so, this week, Miller/Hawkins was 'hiding out' and his 'staff' was filling in for him.

As a joke, I decided to call the station and catch the actual Miller/Hawkins answering the phone and then say, "Ha! I found you!".

I dialed the number and it rang and rang. Finally it was picked up and a hoarse, high pitched voice answered, "KZYX, Mary Worker speaking" (one of his fictional personalities).

Ah yes. Old Miller/Hawkins is a cagey DJ.

Speaking of KZYX, they now have their repeater in place up in Fort Bragg. If you have trouble getting their signal on 90.7, try 88.3 FM.

Hey! Have you noticed? Stuff is turning green! I know, it's pretty much green around here all the time but now the leafy-type trees are bursting forth. The days are getting longer. Now to get over my cold.

I noticed Bill and Lydia Edison are back in town. Also Peg Frankel. I don't know where they were, but welcome home anyway.

I know, I know. What a lazy reporter, but not to worry. Rumor has it that Will Behr from the Mendocino Beacon is coming down to cover the town meeting. Finally, a real reporter in town.

The Roadhouse Cafe will be serving Early American Food from the Frontier this weekend. Wear appropriate garb.

PS. Saint Patrick's Day Corned Beef and Cabbage, March 17th, and the Rummage Sale, April 1st, or thereabouts!

March 15th.

I went to the town meeting with note pad and pen but, as promised, Wil Behr of the Mendocino Beacon showed up and covered the event; front page of last weeks Beacon. The only thing he didn't mention in his article, he couldn't have been aware of, and that is the difference between this year's meeting and last years.

This year there wasn't a peep of complaint about noise, trash, music, and forced entry of the Community Center, an amazing change from the concerns expressed last year. I really don't know if things have changed all that much or if we were just in a collectively better mood this time.

Wil expressed amazement at our process for electing new members to the Community Board.

Prospective names were named. A voice vote for the affirmative was taken, no negative votes were asked for. Jamie Roberts seconded the results.

We may not do things in strict accordance with Roberts Rules of Order but, why cause problems.

After the meeting I wandered around the refurbished kitchen, supposedly inspecting the place but actually looking for left over cookies.

I must admit the kitchen looks swell and the new, used, commercial, double door refrigerator, located by Isabel Petty and purchased by the Community Center, is impressive.

On my way home, I stopped by Gerry Huckaby's and joined Wil Behr, Huckaby and Louis Martin over a bowl of bean soup and corn bread where we brought Wil up to speed on the real dirt behind the scenes, none of which, compared to the shenanigans of Mendocino, seemed to ring Wil's bell.

Lolli and I checked out the Point Cabrillo Lighthouse last weekend and noticed the whales passing by, up close and personal, Moms and babies. They were in time for the Mendocino 'Whale Festival Hoopla after all.

Speaking of hoopla, later we passed through Mendocino and observed the human visitors, each in appropriate whale watching garb, being lead from gallery to gallery by outstretched wine glass. Off in the distance, the unnoticed and unimpressed, the whales continued their progress northward. I understand their brains are highly developed.

Ed Bird tracked me down and asked that I remind everyone that Little league sign up happened last week but if you missed it... it's not too late. Give Ed a call at 877-3246.

I have also been asked to continue to remind everyone of the important town meeting, April 28th at 7:30 PM in the Community Center. This will be the final report on the status of the formation of the Community Services District before the REAL important Supervisor meeting in Ukiah, April 3rd at 11:00 AM. For that meeting it is hoped that at least fifty folks from Greenwood/Elk will be on hand.

Corned Beef and Cabbage Feed, this weekend. I hope you old timers can make it and spin some yarns about the good old days, I obviously need some material for this column.

What else?

Oh yeah!... Erna in Africa, coming soon to a theater near you!

March 22nd.

A fleet of five limos, filled with lawyers, four motor homes, converted into real estate offices, one helicopter and a Brinks truck arrived in Greenwood/Elk yesterday. Three hours later Donald Trump had purchased all of Greenwood/Elk, including the former airport up by Liljeburgs, all of Mitchell's hill behind the town and the complete coastal shelf from the Roth ranch on south to Greenwood Creek.

Upon their arrival, word spread and lines began forming outside the motor homes. It was obvious Trump's team had done their ground work. They knew the current value of the various properties and simply doubled it. That and the fact they had cash in hand made short work of the transition. A few folks wanted time to think about it but soon realized it was now or never.

I asked one of the lawyers what their plan for the town would be. He said, "The Smithsonian has expressed interest in the town's telephone switching equipment but, as far as the buildings and houses go, there's not much here. The East Coast has tons of Victorians."

"What about Mendocino?"

"What about it?"

No, this place would be leveled and brought into the twenty first century. The former airport would be built up to handle medium sized business jets, an aerial tram would be installed to bring world travelers and business executives down Mitchell's' hill into "Trump the Village" which will become a showcase of medium rise hotels and shopping malls, somewhat like Hong Kong but better planned. Highway One, of course, will be re routed up the Greenwood Creek and around the far side of the airport."

I mentioned I didn't own any land but I did have a 1959 Airstream trailer and a Ford Falcon. he handed me a five thousand dollar bill and walked away.

Somewhat in a daze I wandered off and joined the folks gathered on the porch of the Oasis. Nobody seemed to be too upset except Bobby Beacon, who was on the pay phone to the Japanese. Everyone else was making plans.

Joan Matson was talking about moving to Hawaii. Dick Mitchell mentioned Palm Springs. Charlie and Steve Acker were discussing Laytonville.

Myself, I think I'll go to Baja. We have until

APRIL FOOLS DAY

to get out of town!

The Ninety Seventh Annual Saint Patrick's Corned Beef and Cabbage Feed was a huge success. I wandered around with a note pad and pen in hand searching for some old-timer stories. First the Kitchen crew.

Members of the current staff have only been cooking for this event about twenty years, but head cook Gloria Ross used to attend elementary school in Greenwood. Victor Kendl was born in Yugoslavia.

Chief server Lee Friberg has been coming to these events since the second world war when Saint Paddy's was observed Sunday afternoons "because you couldn't drive around at night on account of the blackout".

I bumped into Leonard and Frances Valenti. Their 50th wedding anniversary is coming up July 13th. They remembered the year Frances missed St. Pat's day because of labor; their daughter Joanne was born the day after.

Over by the raffle barrel, Guy Valenti, who drove up from Morgan Hill, mentioned he used to bar tend during the days Saint Paddy's was held in the Oasis. I asked if he had any horror stories from those wild and woolly days?

"Yep, but not for the press."

Finally I got to meet the woman who I especially wanted to see; Genia Falleri Urbani. I asked if there was any progress on where the name of Lousia Street had come from. She said that "there was a Louisa Falleri in town back when. Rena Galletti was her mother, you know, married to Charlie Galletti, Ted's Brother. Louisa married Octavia Falleri whose brother was Alfredo Falleri, my husband. Maybe that's where the name came from.

Later Bobby Beacon showed me the thousand pounds of chipped ice donated by the Frosty Ice Company of Noyo, in the back of his pick-up. Finally, something I could understand.

This year I noticed something I hadn't realized before. The first half of the dinner crowd had names like Galletti, Urbani, Acquistapace and so on, then the Ackers, Bloomquist, Carletons, Rooks, etc. showed up. The first half being pretty much an old family reunion, the second half, a wave of newcomer upstarts.

Then the band "Word of Mouth" showed up and pretty much blended it all together.

Around two hundred dinners went over the counter, the Community Center was full from five o'clock on into the wee hours.

Mary Berry wanted me to be sure to congratulate the whole crew that donated their time to make this such a special event. Already, plans are being made for the 100th Annual Saint Patrick's Corned Beef and Cabbage Feed, only a few years away.

I'm way out of room to mention the Raffle winners... Next week.

Don't forget the Community Services District meeting, March 28th at 7:30 PM. And the fourth Annual Rummage Sale March 31st and April 1st.

PS. The Elk Store hours will be 9:00 until 7;00, starting April first.

March 29th.

Well, I hope you enjoyed my April fool's joke last week. I don't know. April Fool's Day some how seemed to be a big deal, once upon a time.

I remember one April first, years ago, when my brother and I came to the breakfast table to have pancakes. Mom had fried them up and we slathered on the butter and syrup and commenced to cut them into bite sized pieces, or tried to.

We sawed away with our forks and then our knifes, finally tearing a bite sized piece loose and started chewing. It tasted good but was somehow stringy, sort of like chewing Kleenex. Mom was cracking up. Finally it dawned on us. It was April Fool's Day and nothing could be trusted. She had dipped milk strainer pads into pancake batter and fried them. For those of you not raised on a farm with a milk cow; milk strainer pads were four inch diameter fiber pads that, when placed in the bottom of a special funnel, strained foreign objects out of the milk that had been freshly squeezed from our cow.

Jokes loose their punch when you have to explain them.

Anyway... My brother and I retreated to the basement and commenced our retaliation.

Taking some water and plaster of Paris, we shaped some realistic looking dog shaped waste objects and painted them brown with liquid shoe polish. When mom wasn't looking we scattered them under the coffee table on her new rug. Our dog Snuffy never did appreciate the joke as mom's foot ejected him from the house. Poor dog. No wonder April Fool's Day has fallen on hard times.

Speaking of hard times. As we all know, I have a hard time keeping things straight.

A note from Eleanor F. (Stolpe) Sverko pointed out to me that my coverage of the Saint Patrick's Day Corned Beef and Cabbage Fee was full of errors.

1. Emma Phillips of Fort Bragg is Elma (Stolpe) Phillips.

2. Gina Urbani is always known as Gina. Rena Galletti was Louisa Falleri's daughter, not mother.

3. Rena Galletti was married to Clarence, not Charlie.

4. Alfredo Falleri was not Gina's husband, he was her father. Her husband was Ren Urbani."

Eleanor reminded me that newspaper articles become sources of information for historians and the information should be accurate.

Thank you for the corrections.

Onward...

Last Monday evening, as I was settling in for the night, I happened to glance out the window and notice what I took to be bright car lights to the south of me in a place I had never noticed lights before. A bit later I noticed not only the lights but what looked like the cliffs by the Post Office were also lit up. What the heck is going on.

I hopped in my car and drove into town. Out behind the Post Office was two pickup trucks, parked close to the edge. I walked out to them and discovered a cliff rescue was in progress. Some guy was discovered to be stranded part way up the South side of Li Foo Gulch. Our Park Ranger, Kevin Joe, was getting into harness and the Elk Volunteer Fire Department was assisting with lights, ropes, and manpower. Gary Moran was operating the front winch on the Park Service pick-up, Steve Acker, Ron Karish, and George Lawrence were arranging the ropes. Lee McKnight was over on Kendrick's deck, behind the Greenwood Pier, with a portable generator and two flood lights. I was asked to carry a gallon of gas over to Lee for reserve.

Arriving on the deck with Lee I could see the guy, sitting on a ridge outcropping, patiently waiting.

A request came over Lee's walkie-talkie for a pair of leather gloves and a container of water. I said I would go get them.

I rushed into Kendrick's house and asked about gloves and water. No gloves, and after a short search, no suitable container for water.

"How 'bout a bottle of Chardoney?"

I ran across the street to Joel's house.

"Come on in. Sure I have some leather gloves."

I stood bye as he tore through his utility closet.

"Ah! Here's one. Oh! That's right, the dog ate the other one."

I jumped in my car and drove home to get my gloves and canteen. I grabbed my flashlight, switched it on and the bulb burned out...forget that.

Back to the scene of the rescue. Stumbling through the dark to the crew on the cliff I offered up my bootie.

"Don't need the gloves, we found some."

"Well, here's some water for that guy on the cliff."

"It's not for him, it's for Kevin Joe. He's the one doing all the work."

I wandered off to a less helpful perspective.

By eight o'clock it was all over. Another successful cliff rescue and a job well done. The grateful visitor made a generous donation to the Elk Fire Department and called it a night. So did I.

Supervisor Meeting. Community Services District. Ukiah. 11:00 AM.

Rummage sale. March 31st. April 1st.

Mexican dinner. Roadhouse Cafe. Friday, Saturday night.

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