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CLINTON ST. QUARTERLY Vol. 4, NO. 2 SATISFYING BUT NOT FILLING Slimmer 1982 Cover, Mary Robben How That Building Got To Look That Way Michael Graves.......... 4 Bruno Loewenberg, Artist and Survivor Iphano Blair................... 6 The Great Bus Caper Paul Missal, Shannon Mayfield, Bill Will, Joel Deese, Lucinda Parker, Christopher Rauschenberg, Isaac Shamsud-Din, The Girl Artists, Don Merkt, Henk Pander, Jan Ross....................... TO Post-Conservative America Kevin Phillips............... 76 Fourth of July Fireworks Walt Curtis............... 78 Post-Industrial Portland Dana H o yle ............... 23 Warming To The Freeze Martha Gies .............. 26 Garbage: The Burning Issue Steve Dodge, Jim Johnson, Stan K ahn..................... 30 Louis X Ike Horn................. 34 Eddie Harris Can Play Anything Lynn Darroch ............... 37 Red Beans, Rice ‘n’ Red Hot Music Lenny Dee................. 47 E.T. And Beyond Penny A llen............... 42 New Light On Women Filmmakers Peggy Lindquist........... 43 Northwest Artists Workshop Finds A New Home Leslie Tose............... 44 True Comics Lynda J. Barry............ 46 The Clinton St. Quarterly is published by the Clinton St. Theatre, 2522 SE Clinton, Portland, OR 97202. Unless otherwise noted, all contents copyright © 1982 Clinton St. Quarterly. HELP WANTED The Clinton St. Quarterly needs an experienced ad person comfortable in both agency and small business contexts to supplement our dynamic sales staff. Periodic full time. Generous commission. The Quarterly also needs a fundraiser experienced in all aspects of non-profit and/or media solicitation on a national basis. Strict commission. Part-time long-term prospects. For both positions, apply by mail only to: L. Dee/CSQ 2522 SE Clinton Portland, OR 97202 The Great Bus Caper _ EDITORIAL ©ummer is the time when we, citi- zens of a great nation, pause to celebrate our political heritage and consider what, 206 years after the fact, it all means. The greatest aspiration shared by our diverse body politic is freedom . .. freedom as opposed to slavery, as opposed to tyranny, as opposed to unreasonable constraint. What inevitably results, however, as we cast our projectiles and eyes skyward, in honor of the brave men and women who have struggled to create and defend that freedom, is that those in power take it upon themselves to reduce it all to jingoism. Freedom becomes prosperity, freedom becomes unsurpassed might, freedom becomes a military solution to every challenge, threat, slight or rebuff we as a nation experience. This year, as our economy sinks ever further into a morass of indebtedness, fueled now largely by defense spending, we are being challenged to enter into the space wars, where once again we're assured we are far behind. Our near-sacred notion of freedom becomes the rationale for even further plundering of the public’s purse. Part of the problem is our nation’s obsession with and genius for creating new technology. It requires its own language, and ultimately its own way of thinking. Such language consists of precise, scientific descriptions for a world that is totally mutable, whose essence is change. Or when such language proves unpalatable, euphemisms are substituted to cloud the bitter reality. Thus a garbage burner becomes a “resource recovery’’ plant. One of the strengths of our culture has been its ability to adapt, to adjust constantly to the future in our present. But in many ways this has left us uncertain, confused, unsure of what things mean, what is right. Ronald Reagan and his cohorts have taken it upon themselves to set us straight, to reduce all this confusion by a return to the “tried and true,” however mythological, while they plunge further into the world of high-tech solutions to their concerns. We can never return, nor would we want to, to the simple world of our forebears, for behind the facades of peaceful streets and happy families lies another reality of sexual and racial oppression and colonialism we have been struggling to overcome these past 30 years. If things seem confusing now, it is because the old models no longer apply, and the new world is not yet a reality. Confused or not, few of us are incapable of listing a long litany of problems that face us. But what we need now is a larger vision of freedom not limited to our shores, not limited to our time. The challenge of surviving into the next century is upon us. To make it, together, we must commit ourselves to long-term efforts which avoid the easy fix or the idea that our freedom is possible at the expense of others on the planet. Let us celebrate our freedoms, our hopes and opportunities. May we make them universal. DM Co-Editors David Milholland Peggy Lindquist Lenny Dee Jim Blashfield Design and Production Jim Blashfield Production Assistant David Milholland Proofreader Walt Curtis Theresa Marquez Ad Production Peggy Lindquist Stacey Fletcher Ad Sales JoLynn Amstutz Denny Chericone Lenny Dee Sandy Wallsmith Typesetting Jill Wilson Richard Francis Publisher’s Friend Thanks — Archetype Camerawork Paul Diener Publisher’s Friend Contributing Artists Joel Deese The Girl Artists Susan Gustavson Michael Graves Dana Hoyle David Kline Stephen Leflar Shannon Mayfield Don Metkt Paul Missal Henk Pander Lucinda Parker Christopher Rauschenberg Mary Robben Jan Ross Isaac Shamsud-Din Bill Will Steve Winkenwerder Matt Wuerker Contributing Photographers Betsy Beres Iphano Blair Jim Blashfield Robert Bogue Paul Diener Laurie Meeker David Milholland Thanks Derek Abrams Elizabeth Bunker Tom Clark Laura Di Trapani Jeff Jacobs Ed Reckford Charlotte Uris John Wanberg Advertisers call 222-6039 THE AWARD WINNING PAPERC A N Y d a i E t d y m P r _ . e e _ s _ s. State _ Zip CLINTON ST. QUARTERLY est you mistakenly take us for the footloose, eccentric publication we are, __Jwe wish to bring your attention to the fact that we’ve been quietly accumulating quite a pile of awards. In the past two years, if the truth be known, we’ve won 13 professional awards for the quality of our writing and visuals. So if people ask you why you read the CSQ and, try as you might, the reason escapes you, tell them that in competition with all of Oregon’s non-daily papers, we’ve won First Prizes for education writing, illustration, and personality profiles and Second and Third Prizes in the sports writing, illustration, business writing and humorous features categories. In fact, this year we swept the field in illustration, and on top of that, received a national design award. We’d like to think that all of this is because we’re doing something different and worthwhile. If you think so too, we’d appreciate your support. Subscribe to the CSQ — four quarterly issues, $5. When you subscribe we’ll toss in five passes to the Clinton St. Theatre. Sound good? I will receive 4 issues & 5 passes. SUBSCRIBE I WANT TO SEND A SUBSCRIPTION TO A FRIEND Name__; Address. City___ State_ — Zip--------— Send the theatre passes to: me them Send to CSQ, 2522 SE Clinton, Portland, OR 97202. Clinton St. Quarterly 3
HOW THAT BUILDING GOT TO LOOK THAT WAY Drawings from Michael Graves' Sketchbook The scientific tradition is everywhere," says architect Michael Graves, “and while some things should look machinelike, others should not. Houses and offices are two of them. " Whatever else people say about Graves’ remarkable building designs, he is never accused of creating structures that look like machines. Ancient temples perhaps, or buildings out of Flash Gordon serials — his work has been both praised and condemned. What Graves, who is also an interior designer, painter, and Princeton University professor, has done to create so much controversy among the professional establishment and people on the street alike, is to make buildings that challenge conventional ideas about what architecture should be. With his recent work, such as the Portland Building, now nearing completion, Graves flies in the face of 80 years of architectural tradition. He rejects, in his work and his writing, the stagnation of the Modernist movement, the once-vital architectural rebellion that resulted in the glass and steel boxes that have become fixtures of the contemporary skyline. Graves feels that by turning the ideal of industrial efficiency into an architectural aesthetic, the Modernists lost track of human beings, the value of poetry, and the role that myth and archetype play in our lives. In the following drawings from Michael Graves’ sketchbook, we’re given an opportunity to see this adventurous artist and architect’s ideas develop, as he works his way toward a design that will soon become a landmark of the Portland skyline. JB 4 Clinton St. Quarterly
Clinton St. Quarterly
In the end art is freedom. Bruno Loewenberg 0 Artist and Survivor By Iphano Blair golden star and the company insignia ... I observed him always. No one can say for sure what is the very source of his artistry. Courage of super-human dimension is necessary to present your own concept, free of all conventions. In the end art is freedom. It makes you free to think, to feel, to do your own thing. I did one of my best paintings in half an hour. Sometimes I did a beautiful painting and destroyed it. Art is the preservation of our childhood: the world of fantasy, of fairy tales, of myths and ceremonies. Art is the growth to manhood, to grow up into the computerized world of adults. The symbiosis of both parts harmoniously is art. Everybody manages that more or less ... the executive playing with miniature railroads. The fantastic world of dreams is the nucleus of our artistic creations. To walk into nature, to feel nature, to be nature provides you with the ne afternoon in October, an elderly gentleman came into Ancient Currents Gallery (in San Francisco) and plopped a stack of color photos down on my desk. Why this venerable man would select this gallery, known for our primitive, international and modern artists influenced by the tropics, baffled me. Soon I made an appointment to see the work in person. There, sitting in a living room whose walls were crowded with work by Mr. Loewenberg as well as lithographs by Chagall, Dali, Miro and Picasso, we sat comfortably downing rounds of schnapps while the artist, aided by quips from his wife, Lisbeth, conversed his way around nearly a century of creative living. Suddenly, I realized the connection. I had been so busy looking into and gathering works that inter-relate modern and “primitive” art, I hadn’t realized that here was a patriarch in the very same field, a fellow quite modern but also of a tribe ... a tribe I share through my mother, who like Mr. Loewenberg, is one of the few members to carry our heritage, as it should be, from ancient to current. The Jews were the first tribe to decide to enter Western Civilization and still maintain their codes. It wasn’t until the 1900s that the “middle ages” were lifted from the shoulders of European Jewry. There were still pogroms as late as 1920, but in Germany, the “Rights of Man” had finally filtered across the border and for a generation life seemed to open up. Jews could vote, hold office, and create their own world and art, which they did wholeheartedly, both in ethnic forms such as the Yiddish Theater, and as major components of the Expressionists, Dadaists, Surrealists and Fantastic Realists. It is my conviction that this change in the arts, and its obvious symbolic effect on society, was instrumental in fueling the paranoid classicist backlash arch-typified by Adolph Hitler. More schizophrenic than the average politician, who generally condones all backroom debauchery, Hitler sported some of the most small-minded aesthetics in all of Europe. The cure he instituted for his ailing fatherland was severe cultural amputation, but imagine how enraged he must have been when his “Decadent Art Show,” designed to indicate the degeneration of post-1900 art, was popular among his fellow Aryans. What undoubtedly disturbed him the most in modern art was the tendency of the artists to express the two sides of things, equally and simultaneously (like Picasso’s noses), a concept abhorrent to a schizophrenic for whom division is the basic nature of life. As the noose of cultural control tightened around Middle Europe, the creative minds had to work faster and better. Some saw the “endgame” of such rigid cultural competition and fled; others, not so fortunate, survived through the strength of their inner vision. My personal need to understand how this could be done by sensitive souls and how they could maintain their awareness, led me to encourage Mr. Loewenberg to speak on such topics. It is a delicate subject that I wouldn’t broach with the toughest “survivor,” because to probe the subconscious of a man, where such things are absorbed, would be like opening a “Pandora’s box” ... unless that man is one who employs his subconscious daily and is accustomed to unearthing its contents for use in his art. Such a man, who has cultivated his awareness and dealt with the difficulties in his own mind might be able to give us a clue how such artistic energy became the power for many to weather the dark night of Western Civilization and perhaps prove the psychic nature of creativity. As a man who expresses himself with paint, he was sometimes uncomfortable with the precise nature of the written word. I assured him, though, as an artist, not an historian, he would be better able to paint a realistic picture of an epoch, though only forty years behind us, that had become an irreparable cipher to mankind due to the monstrous nature of history. A Conversation Bruno Loewenberg: I don’t even know when I began painting. I was always drawing, even as a boy .. . they were humorous drawings. I don’t know how great the influence of my father was. He was a ship chandler. I remember him having a big book into which he painted with water colors. He painted all the incoming and outgoing ships, but only their funnels . . . white funnel with a blue field, a ■ Photographs by Iphano Blair essential means to create. Go and do it! The universe creates the music but the human heart performs it. There must be a sense, a meaning in a painting, or it is all craziness. Sure the artist is crazy ... he must be crazy because he cannot accept everything he sees. He has to bend it into another creation. This is why Cezanne is so great, because he changed the picture of the world and of nature. There is an intriguing similarity between a painting and human life. In life you move from place to place, according to your adventurous impulse. At each station you grow larger, on the way to each you destroy so many 6 Clinton St. Quarterly
things of which you are not aware. But you add new qualities which are essential for the continuation of your life. I was born in Stettin, which is now a Polish city, on the Oder River, which is like San Francisco on the sea. Iphano Blair: So you grew up on ships? BL: I grew up almost on ships, yes. My father paid for my education himself. IB: Was that a Jewish school? BL: No, I attended the so-called Gymnasium, which is a preparation school for the University. IB: But you never went to the University. What did you do? BL: I became a bookman after I left school. IB: How did you sell the books? BL: ... I first started in books as an apprentice ... my father brought me to a bookshop and they took me and I had to learn for three years. Without these three years, you could not be a bookman in Germany, no. Here you can be a bookman from one day to the next. IB: Were most of the people Jewish? BL: No, everything Jewish was hidden. IB: Did they know you were Jewish? BL: Of course, they must have known; they only had to look at my name — Loewenberg. Do you know where the name Loewenberg comes from? In the Middle Ages the Jews were not permitted to live in a city, so to live somewhere they had to have someone who took them over, who protected them. And one of the famous dignitaries, a count who took care of my ancestors, was a fellow by the name of Graf ... Count Von Loewen- berg. All the Jews living under his protection took the name. This is how we have all the Silversteins, the Applebaums, flowering names, they are all Jewish. IB: Was there much antisemitism when you were working in the bookstore amongst the people in the shop? BL: Don’t ask too much, you see it opens a book for me. My life with antisemitism is a special chapter; I don’t know where to begin. IB: Well, just tell us a few things to give an idea. BL: Sure, the Germans without being anti-semitic is not a thing that you can say. This is what made it so easy for Hitler to overrun the Jews. IB: So you have never met a German who is not antisemitic? BL: Oh, many! My first wife, she wanted to be Jewish. She kept telling me, but I had to tell her ... it’s not a question of a little water or something. You just have to be ... born. My friend Tepper ... he is not only my friend but a bookman like myself. He was a bookman at one time in the shop where I worked. Then he opened his own shop and became very successful. When everything was over [the war] he became a supervisor of the city. We visited him and he led us to the various places of which he took care. There were some memorials erected to the memory of the people who attempted to kill Hitler. It was the house where they were executed, the [would-be] murderers of Hitler. He took care of making a temple out of this place. He was instrumental in bringing these buildings to be a monument in German history ... my colleague Tepper.... IB: When were you married? BL: From 1922-1929. My wife worked as a singer in the cabaret, a nice girl, but we were young ... she still lives in Berlin ... she’s 82. We still communicate. IB: How about the fact that she was a gentile? BL: All my friends were Aryans. Nobody asked, like America ... a free country. Not until Hitler came; Hitler made an issue out of it and what an issue. He had his men working for that. Since I told you I was a person who is not politically minded ... a non-political person is a non-fighter ... I let it go. Hitler was there, he had his say, he took his life. He did the right thing. He delivered mankind from one of the most horrible criminals there was. Fortunately mankind did not have to come up with a trial against him. He made the trial himself, by killing himself. That is enough for me. IB: Did any of the artists know what was happening? BL: No ... not until it was too late. They were very naive. This one woman wanted to introduce me to Goebbels, whom she knew, as if talking with me, a beloved friend of hers, a human being, would make a difference. IB: Did you go? BL: No. IB: They thought they could change politics with art? BL: Yes ... I want to tell you a story. One time we were having a party, everybody was drinking, on a side street in Berlin. And across the street, a small street, was another house where arrived a truck of S.S. men and they rounded up all the people from the house. We continued to have our fun. Some of us made jokes even ... “What are those people doing? They must have done something.” Politics were always very unsafe; I always heard stories we didn’t know; we thought it was politics. IB: But the art scene was still safe, even with the Dadaists or whoever? BL: Sure, of course ... until Hitler. Then he had his Enartete Kunst (“ the decadent art” show). All the moderns had to participate, his showing of decadence of the arts. The artists had only one advantage: they were not Jews. I knew them all, from when I had the bookstore. They all came into the bookstore. I sold many of their works, engravings and lithographs by a very good Berlin publishing house. Everyone was buying them. They were reasonably priced, etchings by whoever was having a big show, the newest thing. I put up small exhibitions in my shop. IB: Like who? BL: Schmitt-Rotloff ... Pechstein, Hofer, Otto Muller, Bechman. IB: Who bought these works? BL: Oh, business people with a high life style, but they had a certain instinct, a nose for where they could find art. I once had a Teniers ... I think, the Elder — a Dutch painter. So I took it to this guy, the owner of Lysol — you know it is a German company? He looked at it for a long time ... I waited. Then he gave it back to me. He said he couldn’t buy it. And he told me from then on I should know that he never buys anything for less than 50,000 marks. So next time I come I should ... remember. IB: How about the artists, how did they live? BL: Well, we were in coffeehouses mostly. It was a big enclave, all these cabaret people were coming up from Vienna and opening theaters. Everyone was in the coffeehouses ... Brecht was there. Always talking ... some of them were very poor. There was this one painter, a friend of mine ... Hoextner. A drug addict. His clothes were ruined. He used to go around in the cafes from table to table asking each person for ten cents ... ten cents until he had a dollar fifty, then he would run off to the pharmacy to buy drugs. Cocaine. They used to offer it to me ... all the time. I never Jried any but it was everywhere, in the cafes, at all the tables. The artists would either have to accept it or ignore it. Hoextner always had his equipment with him. He would inject himself in the leg, through the pants, in the cafe, and continue talking all the while. He lived in a bathtub; he took me there once. He walked in a stoop with a wild look on his face. Sometimes we would go to the museums or galleries ... we would listen in on what people were saying and then say things to them. We had many arguments with the bourgeoisie. They would think we were crazy; we wore funny clothes. Everyone had that one thing that they always wore, one guy had these funny spats, a hat, or a scarf on which one would depend. IB: Sort of like hippies? BL: Sure, just like them. And we hippies used to go out all the time. I think they were sort of scared of us all in a group. We used to go to the theater or to hear music. It was a very beautiful time. People were coming in from all over Europe . .. many artists. Some were very successful because Berlin had the quickest impulse. IB: How about the thirties .. . during the inflation? BL: Ha ha ha ... you don’t know what inflation is. I was afraid to sell a book. Today five hundred, then the next day it is worth a thousand and next week a million. IB: Did people help each other out during the inflation ... was there sharing of food or something? BL: No, I really don’t know how we survived. People left their houses in the city with a bag with whatever valClinton St. Quarterly 7
uables they had and went out to the country, where they would buy ham, eggs, spinach. IB: Your wife was working in the cabaret then, so they must have continued .. . BL: The arts were booming. The impulse to create is greater in people in times of danger. If you are threatened, you are extremely excited; your normal life is threatened and this impulse is the mother of art. If it is a normal time and you can buy anything you want at a grocery store, then there is nothing to excite you. You don’t have any impulse to create; you are sitting there eating what you bought. But if you have to fight for it, you are careful, and if you are careful you have to be excited. IB: Now you said before that in 1937-38 there was a lot of artistic activity going on around Berlin. BL: You know where I was living, near the Kurfursten Damm where all the activities were, it was a sort of enclave. They even permitted one coffee house. Here the Jews could come in and have their coffee. The only place where there was no sign “No Jews Permitted.” It was a very nice coffee house. I went there every day to have my coffee. In the enclave if they wanted to change, they would have to change every shop, every theater, every cabaret. IB: They would lose their business. Lisbeth Loewenberg: But they did it anyway. BL: Till a certain point, then came the time when you could not see a Jew on the streets. They just took them off the streets to the concentration camps. Then was the “Crystal Night,” because a simple-minded Jew in Paris went to the embassy and shot the German consul. Now can you imagine what that meant for the living Jews, that one Jew kills a German Nazi consul. This was the reason for the famous “Crystal Night” when they took everybody Jewish. Every shop was smashed to pieces. IB: In Berlin? BL: In Berlin and all over, in every city. Still, as you know, the Jews were not brought in silence. They are not silent. They made their jokes. They had nothing more to live by. They had their forced labor, digging or whatever, trying to live on these government stamps. At the end of the week, you received maybe 75 cents a day to live, but as the Jews say .. . LL: You get used to your worries and learn to live with them. IB: This is a general question: The Jewish people, do you see them as more speculative people or are they more realistic? BL: They are both. IB: How about in terms of being dreamers, dreaming of something? BL: I think they have every trait. IB: They are not particularly pessimistic or optimistic? So even during the Berlin time or the time in the camp you found the same thing, some were pessimistic and some were optimistic. There wasn’t a sort of general flow? BL: Well, I would say fortunately, in every moment in our life something takes over and helps you to continue your life and you have the greatest pleasure out of life. If you come into a concentration camp or prison your mind changes right away; you are no longer the old person. Where do I sleep? Where do I get my food? These questions become so majestic and go over you so that all the other metaphysical questions disappear. You don’t ask would I live this life over again; there is no such question. The question is, where am I sleeping? What do I have to cover me? What soup will I eat? And then you go to work and there is no other question. There were a few philosophers in the camp, known philosophers, who managed to raise such a question. We dared and we had the strength to think about metaphysics. One of my friends was named Heinemann. He was a very famous politician. He was in the German Landstag [Senate], They caught him and he was there in the concentration camp. And we always managed to come together for work, to get the same handle on the same box of sand to carry up and down. And we talked sometimes, somehow metaphysical talks. But most of the time you have no other idea than to stay alive. IB: When you raised those metaphysical questions, what did you come up with? Blame for the German people? Did you question why this was happening? What things did you deal with? BL: Very difficult to answer such a question. If you are 13 months in a concentration camp, you have how If you come into a concentration camp or prison your mind changes right away; you are no longer the old person. Where do I sleep? Where do I get my food? These questions become so majestic ... all the other metaphysical questions disappear. It is still my habit here in San Francisco. When we go to the restaurant I order a bowl of soup, wonderful clam chowder. Who thought clam chowder in the camps? Nobody. Now all this makes you strong. many days? Almost 400 days to come up with metaphysical questions. Questions which have nothing to do with your naked life, these I call metaphysical. IB: This fellow the politician, as someone in the German political structure, did he offer any reasoning or philosophy behind what was happening? BL: No, we talked about living writers, poets and so forth. He knew under no circumstances would he come out of the camps alive. Because they swore he would die in the camp. There was a whole company of Viennese artists, actors, in the same part I was living. All the famous actors from Vienna were sitting there darning socks. One day I got horrible pain like sciatica, so they sent me to a place where I could sit. This was not great. They only sent me there because if I could not do anything worthwhile for the camp, at least I could darn socks. There we were all sitting, all the Viennese artists. Mr. Grunbaum and Farkas Beda Loehner and Leopolli ... cabaret people, all very sad, nobody was laughing. There was a sign there which you found near the door: “Only birds are singing.” IB: Who put that there? BL: The Authorities — Hitler. IB: Because they knew there were artists there? BL: So that nobody had the idea to sing. Could be that someone starts to sing, ah, ah, no such thing — only birds are singing. Ha ha, I must laugh if I think about it. But I am sitting here telling you about the camp. I should smash the [tape] machine. I didn’t have the idea to tell you about the camp. It was forbidden to me. They swore if I ever told anything about the camp that they would send an undersea boat to catch me on the high seas. They would get me anywhere; I was not supposed to speak about it.... This they told me as I was leaving. IB: So there was absolutely no artistic expression amongst these cabaret people? Did they ever sing, was there any small theater? Any form? BL: No songs, we had no songs. The birds never sang. We had an orchestra, a band. There were professional musicians among the thousands of prisoners, and they formed the band. And every afternoon they played when you came back from work; we came through the big gate to our various barracks where we lived, but before we went to our barracks, the whole camp had to be standing on the parade place to make roll call, every afternoon about 5 o’clock. There was music. On this side there were whipping posts. If you were marked for punishment, you were strapped in on a wooden horse on one side and there would stand an S.S. man with a big whip, and on the other an S.S. man would count one . .. two ... till 25. It happened every day, and during the punishment of the poor fellow, who was very badly hurt, we saw their bottoms all cut, and during their punishment the damn orchestra played the famous band song, popa ... pie ... da ... die. There we had song, we were not only suffering, ha ha. IB: I was thinking, was there nothing amongst the people privately? BL: No, there was no private connection, not even in discussion, not a talk. Silently we were sitting there, not talking. IB: There were no services? BL: No! How could you? You think this is a company, over which is spread a dark cover, a dark thin blanket of dark material, over your head, over your body, and there you will live all day and all night! Only sadness. IB: So that dark blanket extinguished all expression of art? BL: All expression. Terrible. IB: I was wondering if there was any artistic reflection of that experience? BL: My face here [referring to the painting “Ecce Homo”] is from the life in the camp. It makes you bloated. You see every body was blistered off, everybody had sick faces. And the clothes you had ... you could not recognize a person who comes out of the camp. I never met a person who was in the camp. I don’t know who was ever in the camp, because we were all naked. Maybe it’s illusion. Maybe I dreamt it — nobody saw me there. Did you see me there? No. My wife didn’t see me. It’s all an illusion. Hitler is an illusion. IB: Some people are trying to say that now. There are historical groups trying to establish that fact. But in a U.S. court of law it was ruled that it is not an illusion. There really were camps. An historically established fact. BL: And you should think that a story like Hitler’s would be an atom bomb and change the whole of mankind, somehow opposite the Jews. No, not at all; it didn’t take away from anti-semitism .. . not a bit. You think we left anti-semitism? I have nothing to represent of my family, no one. All my aunts, all my uncles, all my nephews, all my nieces, all my cousins there were all killed, all of them. My sister and her little boy, they were all killed in concentration camps. I have nothing to represent my family. IB: But your sister was the one who got the ticket for you to get out? BL: She got a ticket for me, and then she was taken to the concentration camp. IB: Why didn't she get out too? BL: I don’t know; that is another question. Why didn’t I get out before? I was warned, I was repeatedly warned, by well-meaning persons, and I didn’t get out. One day I was sitting in the coffee shop, having coffee, and this fellow sitting next to me turns and says, “Listen, you should not even go home to get your things; you should just leave as fast as possible.” I looked at him as if he were crazy. “Why?” I asked him. “Because we are planning to do terrible things.” “How can you do these things?” I asked, and he replied only, “We are developing ways.” But you can’t go out, if you live in a city that is your home. Better not to mention these things. IB: You don’t think it is important for the young people of today to know these things? BL: What good is it? IB: Maybe the whole world can learn from the mistakes. We as human beings ... BL: Try ... try, you are young enough. IB: So you didn’t follow politics much in those days? BL: Unfortunately, I am completely un-political, apolitical entirely. IB: Is this from your own nature or a philosophy? BL: No, my nature. To live in peace, it is an illusion. I have the illusion I live in peace. I don’t want any arguments. I don’t want to know another man is a Christian. I am invited tomorrow afternoon at six o’clock by a very nice fellow; he is from Lebanon. He was at his window today and he calls over, we always greet, and asks if I can come over tomorrow for a glass of wine. Ho ho ho, with the greatest of pleasure, for a glass of wine I will come over at six o’clock. I don’t want to know if he is Lebanese, if he is anti-Jew or what. Leave me alone. We are human beings; let me have my glass of wine .. . that is all I want. I think a person who loses the basic naivete and spontaneity can hardly be called young. To be creative he needs these two basic qualities, 8 Clinton St. Quarterly
and if you are able to maintain these traits you stay young to create your own work ... independent of old age. IB: One time during our conversation, you said you went into the concentration camp as if you were a “puppy.” Somehow the same naivete and spontaneity you seem to feel carried you through them. Am I correct? BL: Oh yeah, it has a lot to do with survival because the reality of things doesn’t touch you. At leasf not as much as your own fantasies. Your own image of your own self, they are stronger. You eat once a day in the concentration camp; you get a bowl of soup — no meat, but you eat this soup with great hunger, eager to have it, on long tables. If somebody died, the same moment he died everyone was grabbing his bowl. In the camp after this operation when they cut open my hand, you can still see here, and they took out the pus and then they threw me ... out of a back door into a field, with twenty or thirty people all with bandaged arms and legs. There was no anesthesia, nobody had any. They operated as you were, in full consciousness ... they cut you up everywhere. As I came out into this field where everyone was sitting, I had to start work. Because in the concentration camp it is forbidden to have time to rest. This is the principle. They make you work even if you are drowsy. They gave me a basket of twigs and some sharp glass splinters which you took between your knees, and with your one free hand you had to shave the skin off the limb; this is what you had to do. There was another basket where you put the shavings. All this you had to do but all this kept you very healthy. I never was hungry. I never was ... I never desired more than a bowl of soup. It is still my habit here in San Francisco. When we go to the restaurant, I order a bowl of soup. It’s good enough for me, wonderful, clam chowder. Who thought clam chowder in the camps? Nobody. Now this all makes you strong ... if you want to become 91 years old, take a hard life on you. A life of a Spartan warrior. You have to take such a life, then when you become old you will never be sick ... for there is no reason to be sick because there is nothing unhealthy that you are doing .. . working. If you are 91 years old, you have many thoughts of dying; everybody older thinks of dying. I am not willing to die ... to extinguish my consciousness. I’m not willing to give this up. But the question is, what ability do I have to influence this? Everyone wants to die in their sleep, a wonderful death. Okay, this is a book written by Michel Georges Michel; he wrote about all the artists of the twenties in Montmartre and about Vertes, a great German painter. Vertes was close to the circus. He made some studies of aerial acrobats. There was a young girl, he invited her up to his studio. They had the following talk, now I will tell you what life is, right away! ‘“When you are up there suspended between life and death, I suppose it must be an exhilarating and terrifying moment in spite of your being used to it.” “No,” she said, “we are just used to it as you say.” “But you talk to each other, don’t you? I saw you talking last night when you stopped for a second.” “Oh, that was nothing.” “I’m sure you said something.” “It wasn’t anything. My partner said there is a coat that a woman was wearing in one of the boxes. He said it was fur, and I thought it was monkey. When we were on the ground again we found out which one of us was right.” That is what life is! In a moment you are hanging between life and death. Which you always do. Any moment you are between life and death . . . and you are having such conversations. I love this book. CHEF - OW NER KARL. J. SCHAEFER IE CUISINIER Fine Dining & Quality Catering 1308 W. B U R N S ID E PORTLAND, OR 97205 2 2 4 - 4 2 6 0 PARKINSON FONTANA SCHUMANN JONES AND ELLIS LAWYERS PRACTICE INCLUDING: Injury Accidents Drug Cases Workers’ Compensation Shoplifting Probate Drunk Driving Foreclosure Defense Suspended Licenses Subpoena Problems SEMI-ANNUAL MEN’S SHOE CLEARANCE Selected Shoes Reduced 20 to 50% Dress Sport Casual INITIAL CONSULTATION — NO FEE SUITE 3, 722 MAIN STREET RM 910, 812 SW WASHINGTON OREGON CITY, OREGON 97045 PORTLAND, OREGON 97205 (503) 655-2202 (503) 221-1792 ALAN COSTLEY 816SW10, 222-2577 Fine Leather Goods, Luggage, and Men’s &Women’s Shoes and Boots Clinton St. Quarterly 9
hHP ('DPAT M f fQ CAPER B uses are boring to look at. They’re big, they block your view. So when Tri-Met commissioned artist Scott McIntire to design the Zoo Bus, it was a promising beginning for turning those lumbering boxes into something interesting. But what if a number of artists had their own buses to design, we wondered, somewhat perversely. So we contacted ten artists and entities, shall we say, each doing exciting individual work — some, painters with established galler- one art collective who call themselves The Girl Artists. Eleven art ies, others working in more experimental veins — some young, some older — to see what they would come up with. The results, as you can see, are all over the map. We thank and tip our hats to all the artists who participated, for joining- us in this scheme and for the contribution their everyday work makes to the artistic life of the city. As for the rest of you, we suggest you gather up your shopping bags and attache cases and put yourself in the place of those passersby as around the corner rumbles the 26.. . . 10 Clinton St. Quarterly
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THE CLASSICS ARE ON US! 91 AM RADIO Clinton St. Quarterly 15
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tuencies of the declining central cities and the “redundant industry belt” of the Midwest may find their paths converging with elements of the corporatist right. (But they will try to distinguish their views from the right by emphasizing the need both to help minorities through urban reconstruction and to gain the cooperation of the unions.) Meanwhile, Ronald Reagan’s present commitment to supply-side economics also could be described as more “radical” than “conservative.” In ordinary political discourse, a conservative means someone who wants to maintain existing institutional relationships that might be under threat. But in 1980 and 1981, such zealots of the supply-side cause as Jude Wan- niski liked to call themselves "The Wild Men,” well aware that they were advocating something explosive. My guess is that the failure of the radical supply-side doctrine is clearing the way for a different sort of radicalism: a move toward a species of European corporate statism in the United States. The prospects of the further radicalization of the Middle-American electorate are also considerable. In the spring of 1980, when the extent of the swing to the right was still only faintly discernible, three primary elections took place that hardly anyone bothered to consider together: Harold Covington, leader of the U.S. Nazi Party, got over 40 percent of the vote in the North Carolina Republican primary for nomination for state attorney general. Thomas Metzger, head of the state Ku Klux Klan, won the Democratic nomination for Congress in the Forty-third Congressional District of California. Gerald Carlson, a former Nazi Party member who left to organize the National Christian Democratic Union, won the Republican congressional primary in the Fifteenth District of Michigan. By calling attention to these men, I mean to be provocative. Well aware of the dangers of comparing American political developments to those in Europe, I would still suggest four rough parallels between the United States of the late 1970s and early 1980s and Weimar Germany in the late Twenties. The first is the impact of inflation and the resulting frustration of the middle classes; the second is the trauma of a nation’s first defeat in war — World War I for Germany, Vietnam for the United States; the third is the antipathy of the German Volk and much of Middle America to the ensuing postwar “liberation” of moral, cultural, and sexual standards; and fourth is the pervasive erosion of popular faith in the fairness, responsiveness, and effectiveness of government and other political institutions. Within a nation, such frustrations accumulate only slowly — and rarely. Obviously, the traditionally Germanic forms of reaction would have no place here; yet it seems quite reasonable to suggest that a kindred sense of debility could, and indeed already has, expressed itself in indigenous forms of radicalism. During the late 1960s, one of the biggest mistakes made by most political scientists, journalists, and sociologists was to assume that the dominant alienation, radicalism, and populism in American politics were encompassed and defined by the left. So misled, these commentators dwelt on antiwar demonstrators, on the activists inspired by Ralph Nader, on marijuana lobbyists, and other predominantly middle-class left-liberal groups. Accordingly, they played down the much more important demographic implications of people who applauded Spiro Agnew, liked Merle Haggard’s “Okie From Muskogee,” or spent time listening to fundamentalist preachers, often on television. The fact that many of those who analyzed and helped to form opinion came from backgrounds similar to those of the left-wing elites probably helped to obscure statistical reality. But the numbers were always there — in the Wallace vote of 1968 and 1972, in the dramatic growth of fundamentalist church membership, in the proliferation of radio stations featuring country-and-western music. And the converging issues affected not so much the elite but the majority: middle-class fear of inflation, racial and ethnic hostility, frustrated nationalism, and religious fundamentalism all bespoke a radical potential tilted toward the right. In 1972, analysts could deceive Middle-class fear of inflation, racial and ethnic hostility, frustrated nationalism, and religious fundamentalism all bespoke a radical potential tilted toward the right. themselves into thinking that South Dakota’s George McGovern, a presumed “Prairie Populist,” came from the tradition of Andrew Jackson and William Jennings Bryan, eventhough 40 percent of the delegates at the Democratic National Convention that nominated him had at least a master's degree. By 1976, though, any hopes for a left-leaning populism with radical goals collapsed with the failure of the voters to respond to the presidential campaign of former Oklahoma senator Fred Harris, who attracted no more than a few middle-class housewives and college students. The interest in Harris among blue-collar workers was negligible, largely because the historic constituencies of American populism were not looking left. As C. Vann Woodward admitted in 1981: “When the [liberal] neopopulists went to the people to offer leadership, they found the whites lined up behind George Wallace, and the blacks, in time, behind the hostile nationalists.” FOURTH-ORJULY FIREWORKS By Walt Curtis If you can make love against the black sky like Fourth-of-July fireworks — first there's a ssssssssstt wobbling upward, an (soothing) aaahhh gasp of pleasure as the orangish bluish white fingers curl and expand with a poof reach out touching and embracing. Then there's a BOOM if the making love is good which you feel in your belly forever, like a bomb blast. When you look at fireworks, remember this delicate tracery — which lasts only for seconds — etches itself in eternity. The orgasmic acts of you and your lover go sssst, aah, poof, BOOM if you're lucky. Body and soul thrill in dazzling freedom, thunderous wonder, as the night sky flowers in gorgeous, falling, fiery bursts which darken — shimmering and metallic — a spark at a time, just as our love fades neuron by neuron startlingly satisfied. We are recorded in the heavens by such humanly manufactured displays. Love competes with the stars. Reprinted from Mississippi Mud The confusion of the liberals was understandable. All during this time, “Middle Americans,” from restive farmers to anxious insurance clerks, were unhappy about the shape and direction of our society and politics. Little in our past suggested that such frustration would fine expression in traditional conservatism. Movements of alienated groups had usually been populist and radical, though sometimes the radicalism veered to the right (as with the nativ- ism of the 1850s, the Ku Klux Klan sentiment of the 1920s, or McCarthyism of the 1950s). The notion of popular frustration breeding conservatism seemed hardly credible. Only a small number of commentators saw that once again populism would turn to the right and this time might become the most important such wave in American history. It now seems beyond dispute that inflation, cultural and moral revolution, the first American wartime defeat and consequent frustrated nationalism — later compounded by humiliation over the hostages in Iran — produced a reaction toward the right in the late 1970s. And as that happened, many old radical constituencies were swept up in the same reaction. Skeptics have only to look at the old electoral statistics and to see how the Lower East Side and Brooklyn Orthodox Jewish neighborhoods, where Reagan did so well in 1980, were Socialist and American Labor Party strongholds of the 1920s or 1940s. The rural Southern fundamentalist counties on which Reagan improved 20 and 30 points on the vote for Gerald Ford were strongholds of William Jennings Bryan in 1896, and then of Huey Long, “Pitchfork” Ben Tillman, and George Wallace. The Wheat Belt, including many counties where Reagan scored 30 to 40 points better than Ford, is the core of Farm Belt radical tradition. And who remembers that the rural Oklahoma counties that followed the Moral Majority in 1980 had the highest percentage of votes for Socialist presidential candidates just before World War II? The arch-Catholic counties of the northern Farm Belt, also strongly for Reagan in 1980, heavily supported Congressman William “Liberty Bell” Lemke, Father Coughlin’s splinterparty candidate for President in 1936. Ronald Reagan may not have done well in the middle-class radical precincts of Manhattan, Cambridge, Aspen, and San Francisco, but he did extraordinarily well for a Republican in regions with genuinely radical populist traditions. If one wants to understand the radical nature of the Reagan coalition and the “conservative” politics of the early 1980s, several theories and analogies strike me as useful. The first is Seymour Martin Lipset’s notion of “Center extremism”: the idea that under certain circumstances, when traditional politics breaks down, voters from the center move toward radical beliefs that do not fit conventional ideas of “right” or “left.” Lipset argues that in practice, “center extremism” — the radicalization of the electoral middle — has been closely linked to various degrees of fascism, Caesarism, or authoritarianism. A second theory, closely related, is Donald Warren’s notion of “Middle American Radicals,” who make up, in Warren’s view, 25 to 30 percent of the American electorate — men and women whose anger is directed at rich and poor alike. Also worth mentioning is the European view that “revolutionary conservatism” is reappearing in the late twentieth century, a phenomenon akin to the emergence in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries in France, Germany and Italy of activists and intellectuals who attacked the institutions of secular liberalism and called for the reassertion of religion, ethnicity, and nationalism. Of course, European precedents will not apply neatly to Wichita, Levittown, or South Boston. The essential point made by Lipset and Warren is that a powerful movement can flow from a radicalized “middle” of the body politic. And as that kind of movement gathers force in an atmosphere of economic and cultural frustration, it usually rallies around programs and policies bearing little resemblance to those of either traditional elite conservatism or proletarian leftism. The politics of the radicalized “middle” tends to respond to cultural and moral traditionalism, nationalist pride and grandeur, and a promise of national and personal economic security. Its slogans tend to be along the lines of “Work, Family, Neighborhood,” and the like. Middleclass voters also like the trains to run on time and the streets to be safe. During the past fifteen years, the political revolt of the lower-middle and middle classes was paramount in two elections, 1972 and 1980, and confused in two others, 1968 and 1976. But if one looks at all four elections together, several patterns emerge rather clearly. Democratic Party loyalties held up relatively well among the left-wing quarter of the electorate: the intelligentsia, the minorities, and the working-class electorates of stagnating industrial areas. Generally speaking, Republican strength maintained itself in well- to-do suburbia, old conservative Northern rural areas, and among busi18 Clinton St. Quarterly
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