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Goodbye, Russell.

2009-06-02T02:18:54Z

May 14th saw the passing of a major figure in the Raleigh alternative arts scene of the 80’s, Russell Boone, publisher of Scream magazine. Russell had a stroke in 2003 and then an accident involving traumatic brain injury in 2004, and had been cared for since by his wife and publishing partner, Katie Boone. She held a memorial gathering at the PR, and the attendees represented a fine tribute to Russ as well as a fascinating cross section of a certain segment of Raleigh’s intellectual culture. Russell was a Vietnam War veteran who made a pretty complete break with his earlier life. In finding and wooing Katie at a tender age, he married into a strong and distinct group of Raleighites who have always particularly charmed and impressed me – that is, the wave of NCSU professors’ kids who came of age in the 70’s, mostly in Cameron Park. The PR’s side room was filled with them, many of whom made it back into town for the event. The late Mike Reynolds, an NCSU Hemingway scholar, was one of the aforementioned parents, but also a personal friend of Russell, who spent some time at NCSU. Mike provided original Hemingway material for publication in Scream, and helped it land on the map of small press publications of the era.

Scream was touted as a new combination of “literature, art comix and journalism.” Drawing on the local zine tradition that included Blind Boy’s Gazette and Biohazard Informe, Russell upped the ante and went for a full scale magazine with designer graphics. The marvelous community of artists, writers, and designers he attracted to his project created a body of work well worth remembering. In September 1985 Guy Munger, NandO’s book editor (and father of another family of Cameron Park intelligentsia) described the first issue thusly:

“…a mad melange of prophecy, poetry and ‘Rollywood Funny Papers’ (what us Mad mag grads call comix). Among the attractions: ‘Gemstone File,’ a collection of predictions starring JFK, Jackie, Richard Nixon, Onassis, Howard Hughes and other notables that would make Nostradamus nervous; an eerie little piece by Mike Reynolds, ‘A Green in June’ about a hedge trimmer who just might play ‘paranoid parchesi’ with a chainsaw, and several poems worthy of note.” (News and Observer, 9-8-85)

Billed as a quarterly, Scream’s run comprised seven issues, ending in 1989. Each was more lush and polished than the previous, and Scream became an important venue for the emerging fusions of genre that would lead to graphic novels. Local expressionist extraordinaire David Larson did many of the covers, but others such as William Waters, Errol Engelbrecht, and Denis Draughon got their turn. Writers such as David Weaver, Richard Butner and Peter Eichenberger published early work. The Rollywood Funny Papers took on a life of their own as the flip side of what was essentially a double magazine, with powerful and beautifully presented dark comix by Lillian Jones, Rick Koobs, and Matt Feazell. Danny Gallant also contributed comix, but became a leading force in Scream’s truly sumptuous graphic designs, executed in multi-color offset by Richard Kilby’s Barefoot Press. The final two issues gained some extra excitement when Charles Bukowski ackowledged his admiration for Scream by sending two pieces for Russell to publish.

After Russell decided to stop publishing Scream, Danny Gallant went on to publish several issues of Alternating Crimes in 1996-97, using an imprint Russell had founded in 1985. Russell was a consulting editor, and Danny continued to work with Russ on his own new publishing project - the catalogs for Boone’s Native Seed Company, his heirloom seed mail-order business. Just as Scream laid new ground for a local literary magazine, these catalogs educated about heirloom plants long before they were hot topics, offered the fruits of Russ and Katie’s wildcrafting, and managed to offer more art and literary value than anything of it’s kind. David Larson’s sultry charcoals and pastels were on the covers, and toward the back- “The Anguished Adventures of Cowboy Ant” ! This comic insertion in a seed catalog featured an ant hero whose work and words rocked the sleazy world of industrial agriculture. Russell wrote the strips and Danny Gallant illustrated and lettered them.

Though he was a successful editor and also worked many years on a novel, Russell’s seed enterprise brought him closer to his true love - outdoors and botanical adventures. He was just about the only person from whom I’d accept a wild mushroom to eat, and I was rather glad he never got to see the destruction of the wooded hills surrounding Lake Raleigh, which he loved to roam. He and Katie went all over the state wildcrafting, and Russell always had so much to teach and share about plants, whether in the wilderness or the garden. His last years were inactive, and for the most part speechless, but Katie faithfully rolled his chair along the greenway and occasionally got him down to Sadlack’s. She will get some well deserved respite now, but she was fiercely loyal to him, and communicated with him in a way that most of us couldn’t. Russell said his piece, a big piece, with Scream, and for that and more he will be well remembered.

Lord of The Slums. Part Two.

2009-05-19T20:48:02Z

We thought this was a far-fetched idea, even when the common consensus was that the economy was still booming. But now the plans have changed quite a bit. The developers are much more concerned about getting along with the neighbors and the focus has shifted from a lifestyle of partying on Glenwood South, to historic restoration, and modest pricing. Remember February 2008?:

“When you’re done trolling for girls at the bars but don’t want to move to the suburbs, this is the place,” said Richard Johnson, a City Space partner.”

Well, even the best laid plans, about getting laid, can go awry. Let us make a suggestion to Mr. Dick Johnson, the developer of this project:

Although the increased security and presence of police on horseback might be somewhat effective, you should avoid adding German, or Belgian Shepherd police dogs to the security mix. The combination of mounted police and German Shepherds looks a little too much like Historic Birmingham, Alabama and not enough like new Raleigh.
Why not encourage a more organic form of gentrification? Renovate a few of those houses to be inhabitable and rent them to artists. Give them an incentive to inhabit the neighborhood for 5-years, until things start to stabilize, and then renovate the houses to sell for profit. It might motivate the kids to write a hit musical about the experience.

Maybe people have noticed that the number of break-ins in Boylan Heights, Cameron Park and 5-Points have increased in recent months. There’s no reason to believe that even these stable neighborhoods will see less crime until the economy improves. We like the plans for Rosengarten Park much better than the initial plan but it’s still going to require a brave settler to inhabit that frontier.

The Cradle of civilization.

2009-05-19T21:14:02Z

The Carrboro Board of Alderman will meet tonight to review the plans for 300 E Main Street, a large development project that happens to share the same address as the Cat’s Cradle and the Artcenter. If a similar situation was occurring in Raleigh, we’d be wringing our hands and planning a funeral for two beloved cultural institutions that made the mistake of creating a more desirable place to live and work. Ahhh, but Carrboro has long appreciated the halo effect of the Cat’s Cradle as it spreads its coolness all over that small mill town and places it on the international map of music lovers worldwide. Kirk Ross, of the Carrboro Citizen reports:

The ArtsCenter and Cat’s Cradle, longtime venues and a major draw for visitors and residents to downtown, are in a unique situation, with both the developer and the town keenly interested in seeing them prosper in the new surroundings.

Mayor Mark Chilton said Wednesday that, all along, the developer has tried to find a way to develop the site without losing the current tenants. When it comes to the two cultural institutions at the location, he said, there’s also an understanding that they’re not just economically important, but a key to the town’s “vibe.”

I’m a big fan of Raleigh’s Mayor Meeker but I don’t think he appreciates Raleigh’s “vibe” enough. I’m so happy to see the Cradle getting the appreciation it deserves, while simultaneously feeling embarrassment that Raleigh’s musical scene is currently represented by the Lincoln Theater and Deep South Entertainment. I realize that you can’t legislate good taste but it sure is nice to see city officials that apply some pressure to accommodate it.

23 Hours + 5 Years

2009-05-19T21:14:35Z

A Furry Geezer’s Lurid Recounting of Downtown Raleigh’s Open Mikes

This was the first piece written under the persona of The Furry Geezer, produced for 23Hours, the magazine associated with the documentary/retrospective show of the same name held at Bickett Gallery in 2003. It is astoundingly in date, since Stammer is going strong at Artspace, so the Administrator was kind enough to allow me to run it in celebration of one year with this fine blog. For the most current literary trends, check out Storyspark, the literary festival being produced by Raleigh Quarterly as part of the upcoming Sparkcon.

Summer 1983. Doonesbury’s “armpit of a decade” is in full swing. Raleigh’s civic leaders contemplate strategies and boondoggles toward rejuvenating the central district. The Art museum has closed and moved away. Sylvia’s Helping Hand Mission is going strong on Hargett Street in a large space deemed “under-utilized” by City Planners. Somewhere in the country, a group of people are working on the premier publication of a new national newspaper. It will be called USA Today. In the basement of a tiny luncheonette on Salisbury Street, a group of people gather on a Thursday evening. Drawn together by the funky used bookstore across the street, they are a truly diverse group. Initiated by a teenage drop-out and a former San Francisco open-mic emcee, the reading has attracted a few university types, but includes; the local H.P. Lovecraft junkies, Libertarian advocates for a nudist club, and a huge smelly man recognizable from his long naps at Olivia Raney Library (unless you happened to catch him heading into the blood bank, or see him rolling out of the signal shack by the Boylan Avenue Bridge). The reading starts, with nervous reminders from the bookstore owner about a strict ten minute limit. The huge man proceeds to unfold wads of paper from his many pockets and to borrow props (such as a full soda can) from his neighbors. When his turn arrives, he carries his small table and chair right up to the mike and delivers a 25-minute rant to the city that has the emcee sweating (8 more readers to go – my god) and has the audience in awe. Most of them hadn’t met a street bum with high culture before. But Ralph, and the Thursday Night reading, turned out to be special.

Continue reading A Furry Geezer’s Lurid Recounting of Downtown Raleigh’s Open Mikes

Raleigh’s Thursday Night Open Reading had several venues, but the basement of Glory’s diner was pretty special itself. The owners were never present, they simply provided the key and trusted the participants to put one dollar bills in a jar when they get a beer out of the cooler. It was a kind of practice for when they got a beer license and their own events. After they closed, the reading moved two floors up to the vintage clothing store. This phase resembled a round table discussion group (though Liz and Donna through a memorable party in this space), an atmosphere redeemed by a midsummer stint of readings on Fayetteville Street Mall. Here, for the first time, Kurt F. brought his guitar along and transformed our ideas about what an open reading could be. Kurt’s music became a central part of Thursday Night at the Berkeley Café, and John B. will admit that the poetry readings began the process of that space’s evening music venue. Ralph, who had transformed himself from library bum to Taxi-cab Poet (though he still smelled and continued to devote many hours working out digits of pi in an ink-stained spiral notebook), got us into the Berkeley. He was living upstairs, haring a tiny rickety hall with the hollow-eyed prostitutes whoa t that time headquartered above the Berkeley. Thursday Nights there were loud and well-attended. Every week there were first time readers. Every week here were surprises. Schizophrenics would wander in, listen a little, then break in with their rant about whatever. But after about ten minutes, they would wind down and relinquish the stage, usually to friendly applause. But after about ten minutes, they would wind down and relinquish the state, usually to friendly applause. One night, a wizened couple right out of a Woody Guthrie song (and literally right about the bus) got up when it was their turn and simply unfurled for display a huge quilted mural of newspaper headlines and music posters they had pieced together over their years of travel. It was laminated with masses of clear packing tape and must have weighed a few pounds. They said nothing – just held it up for a few minutes and then carefully folded it back into their bag.

It was at the Berkeley that comedy, confessional rants and performance pieces began to emerge from the poetry. MP would get up and simply spew out ten minutes of the history of her screwed up childhood and the various sexual misadventures it generated. Later this led to a sensationalist write-up in The Independent. Billy O. began the short story series that had women hissing and booing from the audience – pornography from the Twilight Zone, interspersed with wildly hilarious Teas electrocutions and deep-fried monkeys. People began showing up from Durham and Chapel Hill on Thursday Night, though several established writers who enjoyed listening found the atmosphere too raucous and “unmanaged” to read themselves.

After a year the Berkeley was getting so busy with music bookings they didn’t have room for a poetry reading. The Thursday night series moved down the block to The Paper Plant, whose new location had plenty of room for the readings I had sponsored all along. The cavernous industrial space had artist studios, papermaking and letterpress operations in the back, and lots of couches and corners crammed in around the books. There the readings took full flight as a part of a general art scene that included monthly art shows, workshops, installations and small press publishing. The leading Thursday night readers had their works published in chapbooks with handmade paper covers. Special events in this phase included visits from Steven G. from The Farm and Jack H. from San Francisco. But it was the local performance art that really took off, led by the Joan Crawford Fan Club. Sheri Lifesaver and Jason M. wowed the audiences each night they performed, handing out commemorative wire clothes hangers wrapped in color Xeroxes of Joan Crawford, reminder lists for their strategies to drive The Cookie Store out of business with a firestorm of inane questions, and then putting everyone literally in the aisles laughing with their wicked satire, accompanied by Jason’s synthesizer. Animal rights, ecology and the homeless were addressed by various other performers. Clyde S. methodically stripped layer after layer of clothes as images of downtown “nesting sites” projected on a screen. John J. stabbed names in a phonebook with a pin. Cindy F. mesmerized the audiences with no-script recitations of her onerous love poetry. The feminist contingent was strong enough to generate a special “Hag’s Delight” feature. When anarchists from Madison, Wisconsin hit town we expected a pretty wild rant, but even the Thursday night crowd was a bit taken aback watching a naked man run around the room shouting and smoking a joint rolled with wild lettuce in a page of the Holy Bible. Now that’s lurid!

The Paper Plant closed in December of 1990. A beloved regular, Jeff E., started a new series at the Five-O on Hillsborough Street. It was fun but became dominated by amateur music and/or the sounds from the pool table. Sheri Lifesaver ran a fairly long lasting series at Cup-of-Joe’s that provided an important venue for the old crowd and some new-comers. As the new century approached a new group of performers shared their energies at Poetry Slams at the Vertigo Diner and Forum+Function. Currently the Stammer at Artspace offers an excellent open mike. Raleigh continues to try and find itself as a city and a good open mike is essential for that. Prove it to yourself by starting a series and being amazed at who shows up!

Lump Gallery Benefit

2008-08-15T15:37:10Z

Tonight, August 15th, Lump Gallery will be hosting a benefit to benefit Lump Gallery. Stop by to see some local bands and donate to a very worthy cause. Donations will be used to support Lump Gallery’s ongoing display of cutting edge art. Many of their shows are installations that can’t be sold and can’t be profitable but Lump is an irreplaceable element in the cultural landscape of the Triangle. Two local bands, Phon and Schooner, will be perform. The show starts at 8PM there is a suggested $5 donation for admittance.

Big NC Love Update

2008-08-15T15:16:08Z

The N&O had this update today. This is my favorite, ongoing story of the year!

She is accused of instructing a 15-year-old boy to break into a house, and Crockett said she needed the money to buy a false leg for a beloved horse.

Big NC Love

2008-08-12T20:24:15Z

The N&O carried this story about a woman who had her dead dog cloned in Korea but they seemed to miss the interesting follow up story involving a NC Beauty Queen who converted to Mormon rapist and fugitive from the law. Are they the same person? Did the dog cloning blow her cover? Maybe I missed the follow-up in the N&O but this story is worth reading here.

A juicy excerpt:

The story of Joyce McKinney is the stuff of pulp fiction: a North Carolina-born beauty queen who moved west, won the title Miss Wyoming USA, converted to Mormonism and went on to college at Brigham Young University, where she became obsessed with a Mormon fellow student.

When that young Mormon took a missionary trip to England, authorities say McKinney hired a private detective so she could locate and follow him.

She and a male accomplice were accused of abducting the 21-year-old missionary as he went door to door, taking him to a rented 17th-century “honeymoon cottage” in Devon and chaining him spread-eagled to a bed with several pairs of mink-lined handcuffs.

Art is Hard!

2008-08-12T15:14:52Z

You cannot paint the Mona Lisa by assigning one dab each to a thousand painters. William F. Buckley, Jr.

I am an old fan-as-opponent of William Buckley and I miss his raised eyebrow. He’s often right on target, of course, and I thought this quote fit my mood, pondering all the ugly crap we see going up all around Raleigh, sometimes right beside much more noble projects. Raleigh architecture has it’s bell curve, I suppose, but the view out your car window sure can be depressing these days. I have tried to live with beauty and make beauty all my life - I’ve watched many friends do the same - and IT IS HARD.

Try harder! Raleigh is supposed to be so hot, why can’t we see consistent efforts to achieve a new urbanism that has a fairly high baseline of aesthetic sensibility. When it comes to moderately priced and/or high volume real estate ventures, I say: Make ‘em eat cake!! We can demand quality in planning and materials, without imposing a specific aesthetic sensibility on anyone.

Try harder!! Everything we do is art. Even if it feeds, clothes or shelters us, everything we do is done with artifice, with art, in a creative way involving value choices - so we might as well make it good. The search for quality leads to intellectual aristocracy, some say - well, so be it. The will to excel, to lead the examined life leads to arrogance. But I can will democratic exchange instead of arrogance. Yet I must ask: why does it have to be so dad-lemmed ugly? What democratic process allows such crap? And when there are wonderful architects, thoughtful projects galore, why does any of it have to be so dad-lemmed ugly?

I close with a quote from another end of some spectrum, I’m sure you’ll agree.

We either make ourselves miserable, or we make ourselves strong. The amount of work is the same. Carlos Castenada

Improving Our Gay Ghetto

2008-07-28T17:39:43Z

The N&O reports that Raleigh has landed at the #1 spot on MSNBC’s Best Places To Live list and #4 on the Gay Real Estate USA’s Best Gay Ghettoes (tied with Tampa). Also, the #1 Best Place for Young Adults according to Bizjournals and the #1 ranking for Healthiest Cities for Men, from Men’s Health magazine. The article speculates City leaders may look back at this as the zenith of Raleigh’s ratings career. Those are nice little honors but those lists aren’t exactly from the Wall Street Journal, or The New York Times, or maybe I just don’t check out GayData.com as much as the next guy. This article seems to be begging a question and undeserving of front page status, especially after a 300 person rumble at the mall! It feels as though the entire angle of the article was shaped around gallery owner Lee Hansley’s (photo above) quote:

“I have just come to the conclusion that Raleigh has peaked in terms of these lists,” he said, noting that every good run must come to an end.

Well, start the presses: Lee Hansley just came to a conclusion about lists! Maybe Mr. Hansley should work harder to make Raleigh even healthier for Men’s Health and make our Gayborhood rating higher than Charlotte’s, rather than just resigning to failure. It’s great that our region continues to earn high ratings in lists that might attract the Creative Class but we have a LONNNGGG way to go before we run out of needed improvements: Regional mass transit, bicycle lanes, free feeder buses circulating downtown, converting government-owned, downtown, warehouses to space for art galleries and non-profits; a focus on green technologies for transit, public spaces and utilities; more hot dog stands outside Legends, and fewer riots at the shopping mall.

We at RDUwtf aren’t perfect. We need to regain our ability to center images to the column, and we will. We aren’t resigned to failure!

Gang Fights Are Cool (Again).

2008-07-28T00:33:28Z

Especially when they happen at the upscale suburban mall. Note that the reported number of participants jumps from 100 to 300 in the updates! Kudos to Triangle Town Center for taking the focus off “Gang problems” in Durham and Chapel Hill. Almost 300 kids fighting in a mall and no guns were pulled? Awesmomeness! This was a proper, old-fashioned, gang fight! Well, they should just board-up the place before the white flight drives all the upscale retail and leaves a “dead mall“, like South Hills, or Northgate; the kind of mall that just prays for 300 kids to come to the mall, even if they wind up stabbing each other in the buttocks. Go-Go Raleigh!

Earlier reports that the riot was started by disenchanted Connells fans protesting the absence of George Huntley at Saturday’s downtown performance were quickly discredited.